Page 15 of For the Love of the Quest

Worthing slunk back off into the night, and Thomasin dragged her hands down her face, growling into them. Worthing couldn’t wait to watch her fail. He probably assumed she didn’t have a plan, but she did. It just wasn’t a very complicated one. She would let Edith use her key and have a few precious hours where she could live out her fantasy and follow her quest. Then, when there was no treasure, and her world came crumbling down around her, Thomasin would hand her over to her father and demand an exorbitant amount of money, thus shattering whatever would be left of Edith’s dreams and ideals into a million little pieces.

Chapter Seven

Arthur’s Stone was beautiful. It lay on the ground, nestled against an outcropping of rock, perpendicular to the river. The rectangular slab was just over ten feet long, with edges curved and worn by time. The damp earth around the river was lush, coated in lichen and greenery. The stone was covered with patches of moss and slick with a green sludge. Edith stroked her fingers over the cold, damp surface of the stone. The moss was spongy and thick with morning dew.

The Latin and Ogham inscription was barely visible in the early morning light. So many scholars presumed to know what it meant, but only Edith’s ancestors carried the true translation, passed down from generation to generation, starting with those who had laid the stone in the first place. That secret knowledge made Edith proud to be of the Camborne line. She didn’t care about her family’s money, or the properties, or the business. Like her grandmother before her, Edith only cared that once, long ago, there had been something noble, somethingspecialin her bloodline.

The stone’s true purpose was twofold, which was hinted at by the dual languages of the inscription. First, it was a memorial ofKing Arthur’s fall. In this very spot, he had received a mortal wound from his nephew, Mordred. As Arthur lay dying, he gave his final instructions to the knight Sir Bedivere. He ordered him to throw Excalibur into the lake so that it would return to Avalon. After that, Arthur himself made his last journey to Avalon, where he remained to this day.

The second purpose of the stone was to mark the beginning of a trail that only the worthy could follow. If an honorable soul possessed the key, then they could find the first clue that would lead them on a quest to find Arthur’s resting place in Avalon. Edith could only hope she was honorable enough. The treasures that lay with him, Excalibur included, were far too important to be lost forever, so the knights who had hidden the entrance to Avalon knew they must also leave behind a way for the artifacts to be found.

Edith felt Thomasin come up behind her to study the stone over her shoulder. The wild mess of Thomasin’s hair brushed up against Edith’s cheek.

“Isn’t there supposed to be an X?” Thomasin asked.

“What?” Edith glanced up at her, spitting out a strand of Thomasin’s hair that had gotten stuck in her mouth while she spoke.

“ ‘X marks the spot,’ right? That’s how you know there’s treasure.”

Technically, there was no treasurehere, but Edith planned on putting off that revelation for as long as humanly possible. “That’s only in storybooks,” she scoffed.

Thomasin gave her a pointed look and said, “I’m sorry, we’re currently on a quest to unearth a mythical king’s magical sword and all his mighty treasure, but you draw the line at ‘X marks the spot’?”

Edith considered that for a moment. “Yes. An X makes no logical sense. If every treasure came with a giant X, then everybodywould be finding treasures right and left. Besides, if the goal of hiding treasure is to keep it from being found, then why would you announce its presence with a universally recognized symbol?”

“I didn’t realize that logic was an intrinsic value of the treasure-hunting process. I thought all you needed was a strong imagination.”

Edith reared back, turning to face Thomasin head on. “King Arthur is not imaginary. I can show you dozens of historical texts and scholarly accounts that prove Camelot, Merlin, and the knights of the Round Table were all very real. Just because the rest of the world has decided they’re mere legends, solely because nobody has any faith in magic or wonder or goodness, does not mean they’re made up.”

Thomasin raised her hands placatingly and rocked back on her heels as Edith finished with a dramatic huff. “Touchy subject,” Thomasin commented.

“Itismy life’s work.” Edith crossed her arms over her chest.

Thomasin raised a skeptical brow. “Aren’t you a little young to already be declaring a life’s work?”

Edith disagreed wholeheartedly. If anything, she felt as though she was already hopelessly behind. If she didn’t accomplish her life’s work soon, she would never catch up to her siblings, to where she should be, to where everyone else her age already seemed to be: settled, content, and with every item on their life’s to-do list well in hand.

“I’m not that young,” she simply said.

This made Thomasin laugh. “C’mon, you’re what? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty-seven,” Edith grumbled.

Thomasin shrugged lazily as if the five years’ difference didn’t mean anything at all, when in Edith’s mind it meant five years wasted, because she should’ve started this quest at least that much earlier.

“Wait.” Thomasin caught Edith by the arm as she turned back to the stone. “Shouldn’t you be married?”

Edith’s cheeks flushed so intensely she thought she might faint. Mortification was an anvil in her stomach. Yes, she should be married by now, but she wasn’t going to stand there and tell Thomasin all about how no one had ever shown the slightest interest in her. How Edith had never so much as held hands with someone with romantic intent, or how her father’s attempts to marry her off had gotten increasingly desperate before he had just given up entirely, resigned to the fact that Edith would have to live in his house and rely on his money and good graces forever. How she had wanted to be courted so badly, and yet no one ever wanted her.

“No,” she gritted out between her teeth, yanking her arm out of Thomasin’s grip. Beginning the quest was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life. She would not let Thomasin ruin it by reminding her of the complete social failure that was her normal life.

Edith kept her back turned, resolutely staring at the inscription but not really reading it. She heard Thomasin say softly, “Their loss, mate. That hoity-toity countryside crowd doesn’t know what they’re missing.”

Edith still didn’t turn around to face her. It was no longer out of shame, but to hide the tears that had begun to pool in her eyes. No one besides her grandmother had ever said such a kind thing to her before. She swallowed thickly and blinked away the tears as best she could. “Thank you,” she murmured. Thomasin clapped her gently on the back in response.

Worthing and Jay’s arrival gave Edith the distraction she needed to wipe her eyes without Thomasin seeing. She didn’t want the gruff highwaywoman to know she could be so easily affected by a kind word. Especially when it was likely only said out of pity.

“Horses are all taken care of,” Worthing said. The men had stayed at camp to tend to them while Edith and Thomasin scouted ahead to the site. Or at least that’s what Thomasin told them. Edith had woken up before the sun, jittery with excitement, and at the very first hint of dawn, she’d taken off toward the stone, unable to wait even a second longer for the rest of the group to rouse.