Tristan had killed Arfa eight times when Guinever brought Morgan’s reply.
“He ‘will enjoy watching his King triumph’,”Arfa read. “Snake probably sent the bronze bastard.”
Tristan hefted his sword. “We should keep practising.”
“Why? He beat Cai. His sword cuts metal like it was bread. We fight tomorrow. Can I win?”
Tristan said nothing.
Guinever put his hand on Arfa’s shoulder. “You don’t have to fight.”
“Yes, I do. If I don’t, Morgan calls me a coward. People start believing him. Then…” Arfa’s voice cracked. “I’m going to die, Guin.”
“No.” Guinever looked at Arfa’s sword. “I’ve got an idea.”
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