Gwen

I wake up alone in my bed, the sun hidden behind thick, black storm clouds. Lancelot is everywhere even if he’s not with me now. I can smell the leather and spice scent of him on my clothes. My sight is still a little blurry, another aftereffect of a vision, and when I stand, I sway slightly. Taking a few deep breaths, I force myself to focus, to bring myself back from the edges of my gift.

“Lancelot won’t die. Not if he leaves.” I say the words out loud, a smile on my lips. In my vision, we were together. We’d definitely been in bed. There’s something visceral between two people who’ve given their bodies to each other. It’s not something easily hidden. But what’s so different about this is that he’s not lying in my arms, bleeding to death. He’s leaving, but he’s unharmed.

A soft knock on my door has me turning my focus from my revelation. Lance stands there, leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile turning up his lips, concern in his gaze. He’s even got a mug in one hand.

“I didn’t want to wake you. You’ve been sleeping for hours.”

I nod. “Side effect. They’re not always so bad, but I think this one hit me so hard because it’s been building.”

“Rachel left you some tea. She instructed me to make sure you drink it all down. She said it’s to help you tap into your Earth-based magic. Does that make any sense to you?”

I take the tea and inhale the scent of elderberry. “Yes. This is wonderful, thank you.”

He watches me as I drink down the offered tea, but he doesn’t press me for conversation. There’s a certain unease in his tense body.

“I’m fine, Lance.”

“You looked like you were in such pain. It wasn’t an easy thing to witness.”

Resting my palm on his forearm, I smile. “Pain is never easy. But, I promise, I’m fine. With any luck, before long we’ll be able to find the moonstone and end this.”

My last words hang heavy between us. The unasked question obvious to both of us. When we end this, what will become of us?

Lance shifts and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Would you like something to eat? I put together a meal.”

“You cooked?”

He shrugs. “I…put it together, as I said.”

I can’t hide my smile. “Shall we go see what bounty you’ve put up for us?”

I take his offered hand and try to ignore the rush of pleasure at his touch. We walk down the stairs, silent, comfortable, connected. Is this what it could be like? A normal life with him. Shared meals, tender moments, trust and…love. But he’s going to leave. In the end, he’ll break my heart.

A basket sits atop the kitchen table, laden with sliced pears, strawberries, cheese, and chunks of bread. There’s an open bottle of wine and two glasses as well.

“This looks vaguely familiar,” I say, my mind drifting back to the few occasions when my knight and I were able to sneak away for a picnic in a grassy meadow.

“Only now we don’t have to hide.” His gaze is intense, and I know all I have to do is cross the gap between us and I can have him. I can soak up every ounce of happiness possible until I lose him. “I had hoped to enjoy this out of doors, but the clouds have had other plans it seems.”

Glancing at the sky, I wish for sun and calm winds. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

He pours us each a glass of wine, the red liquid catching the light and glowing like a ruby. “Maybe,” he says, gesturing outside. The sun has begun to break through the clouds, bathing everything in a golden glow where the beams fall. “The weather looks to be clearing.”

That’s odd. It had been on the verge of storming only moments ago. I take a sip of my wine and watch him do the same. His eyes close as he enjoys the rich flavor.

“Come on, then. Let’s take our chances with the rain,” he says, handing me the wine before grabbing the basket.

I laugh and grab a tartan blanket off the back of the sofa on our way through the house. There’s something so playful about all this. It’s what we’ve been missing. Our entire relationship had been based on lies and deceit. It’s different this time.

Lance and I walk around to the back of the house, the sprawling countryside filled with rolling hills, trees, and wildflowers. It’s almost like we’re back at Camelot. Quiet, peaceful, still.

He takes the blanket from me and spreads it across the grass at the base of a tree. “After you, my lady.” His voice is confident and strong, everything he’s always been for me.

I settle on a corner, taking in the setting and letting the afternoon heat warm my skin.

“Your hair is always the most beautiful when the sun hits it just right,” Lance says, so low I almost don’t hear him.

I cut a glance at him and see he’s staring at me. “It’s brown. Ashy brown at best.”

He reaches out and captures a lock between his fingers. “No. It’s gold and chestnut all mixed with strands of pitch black.”

I laugh and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Only you would see that. Everyone else sees boring brown.”

“I see you, Gwen. Every dazzling part of you.”

Oh, swoon. How am I supposed to resist him when he starts being sweet and romantic? Clearing my throat, I tear my gaze away and reach for the basket. “Let’s eat. I’m famished.”

He sits back and waits while I place the food in the center of our blanket. The two of us eat in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s easy and feels as though we were never apart. “It’s odd, isn’t it?” he asks after finishing off the last of the berries.

“What?”

“Having no fear of discovery. You and I have never been…us without Arthur. We are doing nothing wrong. There’s no urgency, no race to make every second count. In the past, we wouldn’t have lazed about together, taking our time with our meal.” His eyes darken and desire creeps into his tone. “We would’ve torn at each other’s clothing, devoured every kiss, every moment, like the selfish creatures we were.”

My belly tightens, a throbbing need taking hold in my core. “Do you wish—” I start, but he interrupts me.

“No. I wouldn’t wish away this second chance with you for anything in the world.”

My Lancelot, my knight, leans forward and presses his lips to mine. I’ve kissed him countless times, and each one felt like the last time. But this one feels different. It’s a beginning. Before I know it, his hands are in my hair and he’s pushing me down until his body rests against mine.

“Tell me you don’t want him,” he groans between kisses.

My blood runs cold. “What?”

“I shared you once, and it nearly drove me mad. Please tell me I don’t have to worry about Brooks stealing your heart.”

I shove him off me, anger rolling through me. “Fuck you, Lance.”

“I…perhaps I don’t understand your meaning. Isn’t that what we were about to do?”

I stand and let my rage run free. “Do you think I wanted to be shared? I didn’t have a choice when it came to marrying Arthur. I tried to be the best wife I could, I gave him my heart until you happened.”

“Oh, so this is all my fault? You wicked temptress. I hadn’t even considered falling in love with a married woman until the day I saw you. I couldn’t stop myself. You were meant to be mine and it was a cruel twist of fate that you’d been bound to another.”

I can’t listen to this any longer. The sky rattles with a roll of thunder directly over our heads. As though in tune with my emotions, everything changes. Wind whips my hair around my face and the clouds, which had been non-existent by the time we settled under our tree, hung fat and purple all across the expanse of sky.

“Lance…” I begin, but trail off when the clouds open and torrential rain falls. Lightning strikes in the distance, but it’s too close for comfort. “We have to get inside.”

He moves to collect our picnic, but I shout for him to leave it. The last thing I want is to be the reason Lance ends up dead. I’ve seen that once, I don’t want it to be proven true.

Lancelot

We run for the house, our feet slipping in slick grass and mud. Once, when Gwen catches her toe on a rock, I barely catch her before she lands. After I have her hand in mine, I don’t let go. This is unnatural, dangerous, and violent. It’s eerily similar to the night we first gave in to our desire without Arthur present.

“Gwen,” I say as we reach the door. The wind is whipping so fiercely the bloody thing is nearly ripped from its hinges before we get inside. “Gwen!” I finally shout.

“What?” She turns angry eyes on me.

“I think you’re doing this.”

“You can’t be serious. I have no magic, Lance. This is not me.”

My gaze drifts over her shoulder and to the horizon where a cone-shaped cloud begins to descend from the wall of purple and green. “Gwen…”

“It can’t be,” she whispers.

Instead of letting her figure it out on her own, I pull her to me and crush our mouths together, pouring every last ounce of love and comfort I have into the kiss. “Calm yourself, my love.”

Her breaths slow and she rests her forehead on the center of my chest. “No. You’ll leave.”

“I swear to you, I will never leave. Not by choice. I am yours, heart, body, and soul.”

I run my fingers through her hair and her tension turns to sobs. “You will. You will and I can’t stop it.”

The world around us settles and what was once a terrible storm eases into a soft breeze whispering through sunny skies.

“Gwen, look.” I turn her in my arms and she gasps, stepping away from me.

“It was me. Oh, my God. I almost killed us.”

“Thank God you didn’t.”

“But I don’t understand. The moonstone holds all my power.”

My chest tightens, but she didn’t see herself. She didn’t see the rain not touching her until we started to run, her eyes glowing so bright they looked like burning sapphires. I saw it all.

“It was you.”

She holds up her hands and stares, fear etched on her face. “I could have…we…we’re linked. We could have died and the world would’ve been lost.”

“Gwen, stop it.” I reach for her, but the moment we touch, I’m thrown across the room. Pain blossoms against my shoulders as I connect with the wall.

Her eyes go wide when she realizes what she’s done. “Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. I will not be the instrument of your death.”

I don’t go after her. My queen dashes up the stairs and I hear her door slam, but damn me and my own fear, I don’t go after her. Is she dangerous? Is this one of the trials Gabriel mentioned?

The rain starts again, hard but not wild, not violent, and I make my way to the kitchen where there sits a full bottle of scotch. The cork squeaks as I free it from the top and the smoky aroma warms my chest almost instantly. I grab a glass and pour a liberal amount of amber liquid, then a little more. I’d almost convinced her to be mine. But almost doesn’t count.