Read King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3 for Free Online Page A

sword?”
    The Archbishop inclined his head. “Indeed, all may try. I pray that the grace of God will shine upon you.”
    Britt knew she could pull the sword from the stone, but as Britt approached the anvil her heart pounded in her throat and her ears buzzed. She could feel the weight of the stares.
    What if she couldn’t pull it?
    “Of course I can pull it. This is my dream—even if it is an unfortunate setting,” Britt muttered before she placed a hand on the sword. She could feel a sudden ray of sunlight cast upon her back as she pulled the sword out of the anvil. The ring of its metal blade pulling free from the anvil echoed in the graveyard.
    Britt swung the sword once over her head—where it caught the sunlight and cast dazzling rays like small strikes of lightning—before resting the tip on the ground. Britt settled into a relaxed stance and finally gathered the courage to look at the assembly.
    Mostly people had slack, shocked faces. Jaws hung open, and more than a few men were rubbing their eyes to clear them.
    Britt glanced at Merlin, but he seemed unaffected by the silence and was grinning in triumph.
    Britt opened her mouth to whisper to the self professed wizard, but instead jumped and almost bolted when the crowd roared.
    Most of those present—the knights, barons, princes, and kings—raised their voices and shouted together in an alarming cry that shook Britt’s bones. It took Britt almost a minute before she realized it was not a war cry, but a statement of jubilation.
    It was a good ten minutes before the assembly had finally quieted down enough for anyone to be heard. Unfortunately the first audible words were not ones of encouragement.
    “Surely you jest that this beardless youth would be set before us as our King,” King Lot said. His voice was deep and fathomless, like the darkest and longest of caves. “This must be a plot crafted by Merlin and Sir Ulfius to further their power. I will have none of it, nor will I have this mere boy as my king!”
    “Here, here!” King Urien shouted.
    “He is no King. He is not even a warrior. What honor does he have?” King Pellinore demanded, sparkling in his black armor.
    “He has pulled the sword from the stone. It is a sign from the heavens, we cannot go against it,” another knight argued. (Britt was fairly certain he was one of Merlin’s.)
    “I believe Merlin!”
    Merlin leaned closer to Britt and muttered over the loud argument. “Sheathe the sword back in the anvil, and pull it out again. Do it at least two more times. We must show them you are capable of pulling it.”
    Britt did as she was told, and when she plucked it out of the anvil for a fourth time the Archbishop, who was watching, spoke. “Has Arthur not performed a great miracle? Each of you has tried your hand at pulling the sword from the stone—yes, even you King Lot. It is known that whoso pulls the sword forth shall be King of Britain. Do you doubt the words of the sword? How then can you naysay Arthur as your ruler?”
    “We are not satisfied. We would have a different sort of ruler than a beardless boy who knows nothing, and whose pedigree is attested to by one knight and a petty wizard,” King Lot snarled. “We will not be satisfied until another trial is held that more men of Britain might have a chance to pull the sword,” King Lot snarled before he left the graveyard, King Pellinore, King Urien, and King Ryence at his heels.

    Chapter 3
    Crowning the King
    Britt was stormed by knights and noblemen as Merlin slipped off to the Archbishop’s side. Although many of the knights rallied around Britt, it was decided that there would be another trial to see if anyone else could pull the sword from the stone at Candlemas.
    “Don’t scowl so, Arthur. Those who attempt to pull the sword from the stone and fail—and they will fail—then have no rightful claim to the throne. This will make your crowning that much easier,” Merlin insisted.
    Britt was unconvinced that