“Are you ever going to get around to knighting him?”

“Who?” Arthur asked.

I resisted the urge to smack him. Smacking one’s liege lord, especially when he’s the high king, is not good form. “Your son, you dolt.”

Arthur glared at me, his dragon eyes glowing. “Amhar? Oh,” he said, answering his own question. “You mean Mordred.”

I crossed my arms and leaned back. “Yes.”

Arthur collapsed back into his chair and rubbed his face. “God, Kai, I don’t know how to handle him.”

“I know.”

“He certainly deserves it. He’s more than competent enough. But… Kai, why couldn’t he have taken after his mother in looks?”

“He does,” I pointed out.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Not what I meant,” he muttered.

“… I know.”

The hair. It always came down to Mordred’s bloody hair. If he had inherited his mother’s hair, or his aunt’s, or even had just a less unnatural shade of red, the rumors of his parentage could have been quelled. But that particularly vivid crimson only turned up in one bloodline – Uther Pendragon’s.

Everyone knew who Mordred’s father was, though neither father, mother, or son had ever publicly admitted it. Everyone knew, and everyone watched.

“If I knight him, it could be read as favoritism, or as me being blackmailed into accepting him. You know there are plenty of folk who still think his birth makes him incompetent, or a demon.” Arthur glared at me again, as if this were my fault.

I bristled. “On the other hand, Arthur, it could be read as you giving him his proper honor. It could even be seen as you being particularly unkind to the lad, since he has been here for quite a while.”

“I could knight him,” Guenevere said from the far doorway. We turned.

“It’s been done before,” she pointed out, “and frequently. About a third of our knights have been knighted by their queen, you know.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “It could work,” I muttered. “Of course, there will always be naysayers.”

“There always are,” Guenevere said.

We three exchanged glances.

“So who wants to tell Mordred?” Guinevere asked.

“We could always surprise him,” Arthur said. I watched with growing amusement as the high king wilted under his wife’s stern glance. “Okay, maybe not.”

“I’m going by his office tomorrow,” I said, not bothering to restrain a grin. “I’ll let him know then, eh?”