Lancelot

My vision is dark. All I can make out are vague shapes and shadows. This has happened before, during the early days of my recovery as the poison worked its way through my system, but I could usually feel it coming on. Not this time. It hit me like a kick from a horse—hard, fast, and unexpected.

“I’m here,” Guinevere says, her soft words a comfort as I try to force the veil of shadow from my eyes. “Come. Take my hands and I’ll guide you. We need to get you in the water so you can calm your body.”

“Your hands do nothing to calm my body,” I say, my thoughts drifting of their own accord to the feel of her skin on mine.

“Charming. Come on, Sir Knight. Your wound looks worse rather than better. Izzy said it’d take time for you to heal. That means you should be resting, not posturing to impress me.”

A chuckle rumbles in my chest at the idea I’d try to impress her. I have not had to try. Guinevere may have never once said she loved me, but the look in her eyes when they’d catch mine told me the truth. I was special. Until she left. “Can’t have you thinking I’m weak. A knight is only as good as his ability to defend his queen.”

“Well, you’re basically blind right now, so how good does that make you?”

She tugs on my hands and I rise, following her with nothing but shadows to guide me. But I know she won’t steer me wrong. As she said, she needs me. The scent of herbs and flowers overtakes me, soothing and invigorating all at the same time. “What’s that smell?”

“Your bath. It’ll ease you. I promise.” She hesitates, tension radiating off her even though I can’t see her. But she’s still holding my hands, her fingers shaking ever so slightly.

“What is it?”

“I…I’ll need to help you into the bath.”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I suppose you will. Though, truth be told, my vision should return soon. These episodes never last long. They aren’t real. Just a hallucination.”

She releases my hands and part of me wants to reach out and pull her back. But then her fingers trail across my brow.

“This has happened before?”

“It used to happen daily. But like I said, they’re short-lived bouts of blindness. Minor inconvenience.”

She laughs, the sound making my heart ache. “Minor?”

“Well, perhaps minor isn’t the right word.” I feel her close the distance between us and I swear I can make out her shape, still shadowed, but somehow lighter. “What are you doing?”

Her fingers play at the hem of my shirt, gripping the fabric and tugging upward. “These herbs work best when they’re in hot water. I’ll help you into the bath and then leave you be. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked.”

Oh, but she hasn’t seen me in far too long. As angry as I am with her for leaving me, my body responds with a primal need to make her mine again. I don’t want her to see how she affects me. “No. I’m not a child. I can undress myself.” I’m sure my words are too harsh, but I am barely holding on to my control as it is. If she puts her hands on my bare chest, I might give in and do something we both aren’t ready for.

“If you kill yourself trying to get into that bath, I’ll never forgive you.”

I almost laugh. “I don’t want your forgiveness.”

“Good. Then I won’t ask for yours for what I’m about to do. Now, off with the shirt and trousers.”

“Oh, I understand now. Is this all a ploy to see if I still look as fit as I did when we were together? I can assure you, I’m not much changed.”

The light in my vision is growing, a pinprick in the center, spreading and vanquishing the dark. I can make out her face, blurry but close. She’s grinning.

“I was hopeful you hadn’t let yourself go. After all, you’re pushing what…a thousand years old?”

Her beautiful lips are the first thing I see clearly. It takes everything in me not to taste them with my own, feel if she’s really as perfect as I remember. “And you…you’re quite youthful for a dead woman.”

“Not dead. You can’t be dead if you’ve been reborn.”

I pull my shirt over my head and let it fall to the floor. Her eyes widen and she allows herself a moment to appreciate my toned body. Oh, no, I’m not going to let her know I can see every expression on her face right now. I’m going to take it all in and relish the hunger in her eyes.

I almost flinch when she reaches out toward me. I crave her touch. But she pulls back and shakes her head, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. Then, clearing her throat, she says, “Trousers, Lancelot. You can’t experience the full healing power of these herbs if your skin doesn’t touch them.”

“Lance,” I tell her.

“What?”

“I’m Lance, remember?”

Her cheeks go pink and she touches her fingertips to her lips. Turning away, she gathers a towel and places it on the bench near the bath. Then she sits on the edge of the oval-shaped tub and tests the water. Her hair falls forward, covering her face, but reminding me so much of the girl she’d been when we met.

I step free of my trousers and underclothes, my cock threatening to rebel and show her exactly what she does to me. I can’t make her help me now that I don’t need her aid. It wouldn’t be fair for her.

“Throw me the towel, my lady. Then I’ll be fine on my own.”

Her shoulders stiffen, but she keeps her gaze away. “But your eyes.”

“Have recovered. I assure you, I can settle myself in the bath.”

She grabs the white towel and holds it out toward me. “Take care not to fall asleep in the water. I need you here.”

She needs me. Oh, God but I’ve wanted to hear those words. Unfortunately, they’ve come too late. Hearts aren’t easily mended, and mine is beyond saving.

Gwen

I stare at the tea leaves in the bottom of my cup, frowning down at a whole lot of nothing. Even my ability to see fortunes seems gone.

“Ugh, bloody hell,” I mutter, shoving the mug and saucer away. It’s no use. I can’t force a damn thing.

“I’m not sure what the tea has done, but you appear mightily cross with that mug.” Lance’s voice rolls over me, a wash of warm honey with the promise of perfection and safety. I haven’t spoken to him since last night, successfully avoiding him all morning and into the afternoon. We’re both performing delicate balancing acts to try and keep ourselves from falling into old habits. It’s hard to be near him and not want him. Lancelot is engraved on my heart as surely as a tattoo. And sure enough, with his teasing tone, he’s softened me once again.

I slump in my chair and rest my head in my hand. “I can’t even read tea leaves. What use am I?”

“We’ll get your magic. The angels seem to think I’m the man for this quest.”

I laugh. “Sure, that’s what Gabriel said, but how? I have no magic. You have no magic. We can’t even pay for our food at the moment.”

He covers my hand with his and stares into my eyes, the look in his making my chest tight. “I was your champion once, no magic required.”

Angry or not, he is still the same devoted knight. “I…I have to get ready.”

A frown furrows his brow. “For what?”

“Work. It’s my first day, remember?”

“Work.” He says it like a dirty word—something unfit for a lady.

“Yes, Lance. Work. You know that food you like so much? Since Tamiel isn’t here to provide it, and I have no magic, I have to work to get it for us. I explained this already.”

“And you’re certain this is a safe place for a lady such as yourself?”

No, not really, but I’m not going to tell him that. “It’ll be fine. My sister Izzy worked there before she met her husband. She managed with no trouble.” I think back on her past experiences and wonder how I’ll fare. Izzy is fiery and strong. She doesn’t put up with anyone giving her shit. Am I cut out for this?

“If you would have me, I’d accompany you and see you safe, my lady.”

There’s nothing but propriety in his tone. He really only wants to do his duty as my sworn protector, but Lancelot in a pub would be a disaster. “No. Stay here. Your arm is still healing and I can’t babysit you while I work.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Babysit?”

“Mind you. You know, like a child.”

“A child? Need I remind you how much of a man I am?” His voice holds that deep growl. The one that tells me I’m about to be breathless from his kiss alone.

I push back my chair and tear my gaze from his. “No. I am well aware. Come along if you must, but stay out of my way and don’t try to interfere.”

He grins. “As you wish, my lady.”

I can’t stop thinking about him. As I scrub my body in the shower, I’m assaulted by memories of the two of us bathing together under a waterfall in the moonlight. I ache for his touch, but I know that way lies trouble. Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around myself and grab another to wring the water from my long hair. As I select a pair of tight jeans and a blue V-neck sweater, I’m hit with a wave of longing for the look in Lance’s eyes every time I’d wear this color.

When I’m finally ready, hair dried and styled into glossy chocolate waves, lips painted red, I make my way into the living room. Lance is seated on the sofa, his back ramrod straight and tense.

I open my mouth to speak but pause when I see the glowing sword Excalibur laid across the coffee table. He reaches out, hand shaking, as though he’s afraid to touch the engraved steel.

“What is it?” I ask, making him flinch. He drops his hand to his knee and the sword stops glowing.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie. The sword responds to you. But I thought only Pendragon blood could wake it.”

“I’m not sure. It calls to me, but I’m afraid to touch it again. The last time had me on the ground as though lightning struck me.” I bend down and take the hilt in my hand. “My lady—” Lance protests, grabbing the sword away.

“There now, you seem right as rain.” I smile and gesture to the blade. “You’re holding it.”

He stares from me to the sword in shock. “You tricked me.”

“Guilty.”

“I can’t believe—” His words end abruptly as his eyes glow a golden color and the blade emits a light to match. Wind whips around us both and I swear I hear a voice whisper his name. Then his eyes return to normal and the blade dims but retains some of the ethereal glow.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Morgan.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Morgan? As in Morgan le Fay?”

“Yes. I’d know her voice anywhere. She can’t possibly still be alive.”

My chest tightens. “You’d be surprised what witches can do.” Morgan, the woman who’d been instrumental in bringing my affair with Lancelot to light. I’d always known she was a witch, but her unhealthy obsession with both Lancelot and Arthur had kept me from forming a bond with her over magic.

“I’ve learned the hard way that people are capable of many things I never thought possible.” His gaze burns into mine and there’s a darkness in him I hadn’t noticed before. It’s both terrifying and thrilling.

But as I look at him, coldness creeps into my chest. I reach out and home in on his energy, willing my powers to return if only so I can see his aura. But, of course, it doesn’t work. Something isn’t quite right with him. And Morgan is nothing but trouble. If she’s alive, we’ve got bigger problems than our past.