THIRTY-EIGHT
Lancelot found Zurine in her father's chamber. The King's body was gone, taken to be prepared for tomorrow's funeral in the cathedral. For a moment, Lancelot wished he could stay for the funeral, to pay his final respects to the man who'd been the closest thing he'd known to a father, but he knew he could not. As if Artorius himself had stood there to remind him, he was a knight loyal to the crown, and he would carry out his king's commands. Especially his final one.
He'd thought the princess was too deep in thought to be aware of his entrance, but he was mistaken.
"I still can't believe he's dead, Lancelot. Can you?" she asked, her eyes fixed on the very pillow that had stolen his final breath.
"The dead are never truly gone, or so the priests say," Lancelot said. "But
