By K. M. Shea
After posing with a rusty sword for a photograph in a British graveyard, Britt Arthurs is pulled via time the entire as far back as the age of King Arthur the place the shockingly younger and good-looking Merlin is awaiting her. The wizard has a few undesirable information: the true Arthur has run off with a shepherdess, and whoever pulls the sword from the stone is to turn into the King of britain. regrettably for Britt, the sword slides out like butter while she pulls it after scuffling with with Merlin. lengthy reside King Arthurs! **
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Additional resources for Enthroned (King Arthur and Her Knights, Book 1)
Example text
The cottage has a few modern conveniences, meaning that an appropriate area was built against the back of the cottage so one needn’t go out into the night or storm to answer the call of nature. In addition, there is also a hand pump in the kitchen to draw water so one needn’t go to the old well outside, whose windlass is in disrepair. Cooking is done on a small cast-iron stove, and bathing and laundry are done in a brass washtub—also in the kitchen, so that the water may be heated on the stove.
Chapter Three Houses will build themselves, And tombstones re-write names on a dead man’s grave. —Andrew Young, “Culbin Sands” Fear is paranoia’s chief handmaiden, and therefore sometimes an evil influence on even the most rational mind. I had calmed considerably by the time I made porridge and brushed out my hair. It takes patience and time to add the oats little by little to boiling salted water. I don’t care for lumpy porridge, and it is my experience that alarm can only be sustained for a short period of time in the absence of any new threats, especially when doing something so prosaic as whisking oatmeal on the stove with a cat looking on.
Apparently Fergus Culbin was the last of the local line of Culbins, and it was widely believed that it was one of his godless ancestors, living in a now-ruined keep, that brought the curse down upon the village. Twaddle, all of it. Nonetheless, Fergus was rumored able to dispense with his shadow when desired, a sure sign of diablerie—or a sign of a cloudy day, but that was less exciting to talk about late at night around the peat fires. And if the subject of Fergus’s wicked ways failed them, they could always talk about me.