Lancelot

I can’t stand being here, but I can’t get Gwen out of my head. She’s the only woman who has had the power to bring me to my knees. I pace the small living room, playing her words over in my head. I never loved her? I loved her more than life itself. More than my devotion to my king. I loved her with a fierce strength that blinded me from all else.

My traitorous heart pulls me from hurt and anger into memories and I see it clear as day. Our place, the hawthorn tree where I pledged my everlasting devotion to my lady under the cover of a starry sky on a warm summer night. My legs tingle with restless energy as I wait for her. Even after all the time we’d spent together, the thought of seeing her, of holding my love in my arms, made me ache with need.

The instant I catch sight of her royal blue cloak through the trees my heart races and my pulse pounds in my ears. Her face is hidden by the cloak, but I know it is my Guinevere.

“My love,” I say, rushing to her, unable to bear not touching her. I push back the hood and cup her face in my hands. Those perfectly shaped lips turn up in a smile as she stares at me. Then she kisses me, a little moan falling from her at the contact and all is right in my world.

A slight rustling in the brush has her pulling back from me, fear in her expression. “What was that?”

I hold her close, not willing to let anything stop us from being together. This is the only time we have where we can be who we were truly destined to be. Here we’re Lancelot and Guinevere, two soul mates not separated by circumstance. I survey our surroundings, keeping her held tight to me with one arm while reaching for my sword with my free hand.

The silence surrounding us eases my worry. “It’s nothing.”

She nods, her fingers clutching my tunic. “We cannot keep doing this.”

Her voice is small, but it slices straight through me as though I’ve been run through by a white-hot blade. The thought of losing her makes me desperate to do anything I can in order to keep her. “Don’t say that. I’ll die before I lose you.”

Sadness fills her eyes as she locks gazes with me. “We are risking discovery every time we meet. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you because of me. If Arthur were to find out…to know things went beyond his hopes for an heir…he’d never be able to forgive us.”

Flashes of the first time we’d been together, of Arthur watching me move into her body. His heated gaze had been on me, his arousal unmistakable. I’d thought that was the beginning of something intense and passionate between the three of us, especially when he gripped my arm as I filled his wife with my seed. But he’d shied away afterward, shame on his face.

I press my forehead against hers, threading my fingers in her hair. “Run away with me. Leave him and be mine. You heard him, we can’t all be together like that again. But I can’t live without you. We can return to Avalon, request safety with the Lady of the Lake. Or we’ll sail to a distant land and take new names. I don’t care. I only want to be with you.”

I see the indecision in her eyes. She’s never admitted her love, but I don’t need words. Her love doesn’t have to be expressed with words, it is given freely with tender touches and secret glances. Her duty to her king is what’s stopping us now.

“My love, set aside Arthur, free yourself from your guilt. If you give him opportunity to put you aside as well, he can find a new queen. He can have his heir, Camelot will be secure, and we can be together.” It hurts to speak of abandoning the man who has become more to me than a friend. But he’s denying us all happiness because of his misguided notions of what love and marriage should be.

She takes her lower lip between her teeth, tears swimming in her eyes, and for a moment, I fear she’s going to deny me. Then, she nods.

My heart feels as though it might burst. She will truly be mine. “Tomorrow night,” I say, holding her tight. “Meet me here at midnight. Bring nothing. I will secure supplies for our journey. I promise, you will not regret this, my love. We will have the life we were meant for.”

I kiss her then, deep and lingering. I’m not willing to let her leave me just yet. Tonight, I will spread my own cloak on the forest floor and love her until the sky fills with light. And tomorrow? Tomorrow we begin living our truth. Together.

The sound of a door shutting pulls me from my thoughts. I don’t know how long I’d been there, reliving our last clandestine meeting, the one before she ruined me, but now I’m back in our flat and everything is different between us.

Gwen doesn’t look at me as she brushes past and heads into the kitchen. She moves about as though she belongs here, making herself something to eat while I’m here, still reeling from the memory I’d been stupid enough to fall back into.

A chime sounds from somewhere in the room. Disembodied and strange. Is this some sort of trick? I stand on my guard, ready to defend us both. But she pulls a slim device from her pocket and taps it a few times before smiling. That smile of hers has always melted me, even when I wanted to be anywhere but with her. It’s had me fighting temptation to betray my friend and king from our first encounter. Now I understand why it was so bewitching.

“Izzy. Yes, I’m here. Yes, with him. No. I can’t talk about that now, okay? Later, I promise.” She turns away from me and I wonder if the woman has gone mad. She’s talking into this strange piece of…glass? But, then again, she is a witch. That was a little tidbit I’d not been privy to during our tumultuous affair.

She sighs and walks down the hall, stepping into the bedroom she claimed as hers, and shutting the door behind her. I don’t know how I’m to survive her again. This woman destroyed everything good in me. Until her, I’d been virtuous, loyal, trustworthy. And then I threw it all away for love. But Guinevere never really loved me. It had been nothing more than a case of an unsatisfied queen punishing her king for straying. Even still, I’m the fool left behind in all this.

While she’s gone, I finish preparing the meal she’d been making. My arm throbs, the slowly healing wound making itself known. After any kind of exertion, this is the result. My blood burns, my body aches, and my dreams are filled with darkness and death.

The door opens and closes with a series of soft clicks as Guinevere returns to the living room. “Well, that’s settled.”

“What’s settled?”

“My job. I start tomorrow.”

“And what’ll you be doing?” I imagine her doing something soft and gentle, perhaps selling flowers.

“Izzy pulled some strings and got me a job at The Witch’s Brew Pub just round the corner. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at being a barmaid.” My shock must be apparent because her smile turns to a frown. “What?”

This cannot be happening. There has to be another option. “And what am I supposed to do while you’re working all day?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’ll work the evenings. You’ll be sleeping by then.”

No. There’s no way on God’s green Earth I’ll let Guinevere, my Guinevere work nights at a pub while I sleep. She’s a queen for God’s sake. “No. This is—”

“Listen here, Sir Knight. You don’t own me. Not my body, nor my heart. I’ll be fine. I’ve taken care of myself for longer than you can fathom.”

The thought of her having to fend for herself makes me ill. She may not want me around, but I won’t let her go without my protection. My queen is my responsibility. I stride across the room until I have her against the wall, and there’s challenge in her eyes, so strong it burns my soul.

“I’ve never owned you because you aren’t a possession, but I’ll be damned if I let you out of my sight when God wills us to be together.” I can hear her sharp intake of breath and the delicious scent of lilacs nearly brings me to my knees. I spent many a night dreaming of the soft flowery scent of her hair. She tips her head and stares into my eyes, the shade of her irises so different from the copper I knew so long ago. Her mouth is close enough to kiss. I could give in to this raging desire between us, bridge the gap and remind her of what we had, but I can’t move beyond the color of her eyes.

“Your eyes…” I murmur, allowing my thumb to brush her cheek.

“I was cursed when we knew each other. Now I’m free.”

“Cursed?”

I want to taste her lips, just once to see if they’re still as sweet and soft as I remember. Her skin is warm and everything about her is calling to me. “Lance,” she breathes. “Lance, this is the opposite of what we should be doing.”

A sigh escapes me at her words, but I know she’s right. Instead of claiming her mouth and rekindling the fire between us, I step away and head into the kitchen. There’s a solitary bottle of white wine sitting unopened in the refrigerator—which, is a life-changing creation. When Tamiel showed me how the kitchen works, that had been my favorite aspect. I pull the cold bottle from the shelf and free the cork. Gwen stands at the entry of the kitchen with her fingers playing at the side of her neck. I know that gesture well. She’s aroused, intrigued, and it’s all for me.

I watch her as I pour us both a glass of wine, and when I move toward her, she takes one small step back, as though she’s afraid to be too close. Leveling my gaze on her, I say, “Now, tell me about this curse.”

Gwen

Tell him about the curse? Lancelot just expects me to fall at his feet and tell him everything that’s happened to me since the last time he saw me. I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s always how it was between us. Except there was far too much he didn’t know about me when we were diving head first into a tumultuous love affair.

“It’s…complicated.”

He takes a long drink of his wine and leans against the bar. “I happen to have an abundance of time, Guinevere.”

“Gwen,” I correct.

He nods. “Gwen.”

An involuntary shiver of longing rolls through me. His voice. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, that deep rumble, velvet soft and dark, lights a fire inside me. I stare at the golden liquid in my own wineglass and swallow hard. Liquid courage. That’s what I need. In a few short steps, I walk to the worn oak table and take a seat.

“You won’t like it,” I say.

He takes the seat across from me and stares me down. “I already don’t. I never thought I’d see you again. God in Heaven, I promised myself if I ever looked upon your face, I’d curse you to the ends of the earth.”

I laugh. The sound is bitter and painful, but I can’t help it. Then I down my glass of wine and let the alcohol warm my belly. “Too late.”

“Why did you leave me? Why did you choose Arthur?” His questions take the air from my lungs like a punch straight to my stomach.

“Are you insane? You think I chose Arthur? I chose you. I broke his heart because of you. It was you who left me to be discovered and captured. I committed treason for you. Treason. Do you remember the punishment for a crime like that?” My heart is racing at the threat of those vivid memories.

“Death. But obviously you escaped that fate. Here you are.”

I shake my head. “If only. That was part of my curse. To die at twenty-seven and be reborn. Every lifetime I was alone, save the few times I found one or both of my sisters. Except for the one where I found you. I thought you might be the one to keep me safe, instead, you abandoned me.”

His eyes widen and a soft intake of breath betrays his shock. “He…Arthur had you executed as a traitor?”

Even now I can feel the heat of the pyre my husband had tied me to. The first witch to be burned at the stake. Of course, the stories romanticized the end of our legend. In most cases the writers gave me a reprieve and made Lancelot the great hero, riding in and rescuing me. Maybe if he’d done that, we wouldn’t be here now. Perhaps we’d have truly had our happy ending.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I close my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath. “Yes. And you were off with Lady Elaine. When I found that you’d absconded with her, that you’d gotten her pregnant and abandoned me—”

“How did you hear that?”

“What does it matter? It’s true, isn’t it? Lancelot the virtuous. What a load of rubbish.”

My visions are never false. The night I made my journey to our secret meeting place and found no trace of him, no gallant knight ready to steal me away from a fate destined to end in my misery, my gift of foresight showed me the truth.

“Whatever you think of me, you must know I have never lain with another. Only you. Is that why you chose Arthur? Because someone fed you lies and deceived you?”

No. This can’t be true. I don’t know what he thinks he’ll gain by telling me this. “Lies?” I push back my chair so hard it topples, but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I stride to the kitchen and fill my glass to the brim. “My visions aren’t lies. I saw you with her. Married. Your child growing in her belly.”

“No!” he shouts, slamming his palm on the table. “I was faithful to you. I would’ve followed you anywhere. You mean to tell me a vision led you to crush my heart? A simple vision?”

“My visions don’t lie.”

“Are you so sure? Did you truly have so little faith in me? In us?”

I can’t do this. “Stop! Enough. There’s no point in drudging up something so painful. We aren’t together. End of story. I can’t look at you another minute if you’re going to continue trying to be the good guy in our tragedy. There is no good guy.”

“You need to understand one thing, Guinevere. I would never have left if you hadn’t pushed me away in the first place.” He stands and rakes a hand through his thick hair.

“How? How did I push you away? I wanted everything with you, even if only for a short while before my curse took me.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not what you said to me under the hawthorn tree.”

“I said many things to you under that tree.”

“But only one of them broke my heart.”

I don’t understand what he means. “I wanted you.”

“And you had me. Multiple times if my memory is correct.” He sighs and shakes his head. “You’re right. Now is not the time to reopen old wounds. It’s late and my muscles ache. I haven’t been so active since before I escaped purgatory.”

He looks weary, face drawn and pale. “How’s your arm?” I ask, stepping a little closer. I know what his answer will be. He’s in pain. I feel it too.

“Hurts, but that’s not new.”

“You know, I might not have my magic, but I can sense your pains just by reading the look in your eyes. You’re suffering more than you let on.” My hand goes to the place on my arm where the echoes of his demon scratches ache.

Swallowing, he clenches his teeth and looks away. “Don’t treat me like you’re my nursemaid. I need rest and I’ll be set to rights tomorrow.”

“You need a good soak in a hot bath to ease your limbs first.”

He cocks an eyebrow and smirks. A slight hint of teasing glinting behind tired and pained eyes. “Are you attempting to get me naked?”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “No. But I can’t get my magic back if you’re dead from exhaustion. Wait there.”

He doesn’t argue or follow as I make my way to the kitchen and search the cupboards, laughing to myself when I find the cheese and butter stored there rather than in the refrigerator. I move those to their proper place and grab the herbs I need along with the Epsom salts I’d had the foresight to buy.

“What is all that?” he asks, eyeing my armload of items.

“Herbs and salts. To help soothe your body.”

He frowns. “Witchcraft?”

“Don’t worry, it won’t shrivel your bollocks or turn your cock useless. That’s not the kind of magic I use.”

“But you said you don’t have magic.”

“It’s really just an herbal remedy. Trust me, I need you in working order. There’d be no sense in me doing something to hurt any part of you.”

My cheeks heat at the thought of his body. The nights we’d spent under the stars still replay in my dreams even though I don’t want them to.

“Fine, my lady. I’ll wait here until you have finished.”

He won’t look at me, but there’s a spot of pink on his cheeks and I know his thoughts must’ve drifted, same as mine. I don’t say another word, just walk past him and down the hall. There’s an en-suite attached to the master bedroom and I smile at the sight of the large soaking tub. I’d opted for a shower earlier, but that tub is calling my name. The flat may be small, but the bathroom makes up for what the rest of the space lacks.

As the hot water fills the tub, I crush the herbs and add them to a bowl of Epsom salts I poured. I mix everything into the water and soon it smells divine. Soothing and perfect.

The creak of a door catches my attention and I shake my head at the typical behavior of the man. He never could sit still for long.

“Lance?” I call.

He doesn’t answer, and a chill runs down my spine. Is someone else here? Standing, I turn off the water and walk into the bedroom to find him sitting on the bed, sleeves rolled up, the demon scratches an angry red and I shove up my own sleeve to see my arm mirrors his.

“Guinevere,” he says, his voice faint and pained. “I can’t…I can’t see.”