by Leilani Love
He pulled his horse to a stop. “Come here,” he said in a low voice.
She held tighter to her own reins and tried to maneuver away from him. “No.” She yawned, and tears of exhaustion pooled in her eyes. “I’m fine.”
Ignoring her protest, he reached over and pulled her into his arms. Laying her across his lap, he used his free hand to tie her horse’s reins onto his saddle. With a gentle nudge, his horse continued onward.
He glanced over. Bors was doing the same for Elizabeth, and Lancelot’s gaze was homed in on them. Arthur knew that despite his cousin’s rough attitude toward the girl, he genuinely cared for her.
It didn’t take long for Guinevere to fall asleep in his arms and he stared down at her when he heard her soft, even breathing. When the prince had surrounded them with his men, a surge of panic had coursed through him. He knew that if she was taken back to the castle, she would be forced to endure whatever punishment the prince could come up with. The thought alone undid him.
His lips quirked into a smile when he remembered how she had defended him. She seemed to care so much for his safety.
When they ended up at the pile of rocks, Arthur knew for sure he and Lancelot were going to be killed. In that moment he decided he was going to go down fighting. He had heard about the stones that housed the former King’s sword…everyone knew the famous legends. That only the rightful ruler of Camelot could turn loose the blade. He didn’t even know what he had been thinking when he reached for the sword. No one else had been able to get it to budge, why should he be any different?
And yet, when his fingers curled around the hilt, there was a surge of power that coursed through his body. It was a rush unlike anything he had ever felt. It shook the ground beneath him. Not sure who was more surprised, he or the guards, Arthur had used that to his advantage.
He knew the legend of the sword and of Merlin. The stories were that Merlin disappeared when the king died. Yet, Bors had called the gentleman that Arthur had seen several times around the village, who barely looked older than himself, Merlin. There was no way a man who didn’t even look thirty could be the famed wizard, could he?
Merlin led them through the woods, down a path that came to an old cabin. When they pulled up, Merlin nodded toward the house. “You two, put the women inside. There are rooms in the back. Get some sleep, we can talk in a few hours after everyone has rested.”
Lancelot opened his mouth to protest before Bors cut him off. “We should rest while we can. The king and his men are going to be looking for us, and if they find us, I would rather fight them after a nap.”
Arthur handed a sleeping Guinevere to Merlin while Lancelot helped Bors with Elizabeth. When Bors tried to take Elizabeth back, Lancelot shook his head. “I’ll carry her for you. If you could, get the door.”
Bors snapped his mouth shut and nodded. The bags under his eyes betrayed how tired he was. Once Merlin handed Guinevere back to him, Merlin took all the horses reins and led them toward the stable on the side of the cabin.
Wulf stayed at Arthur’s side as he followed Lancelot into the cabin. The cabin had a large open room with a fireplace, and a long table and wooden chairs. Bors walked straight down the hall and opened a door. “Put them in here,” he called. “They can lie in the same bed and get some more rest.”
Lancelot took Elizabeth in first and Arthur followed. The bed was big enough for both women, and situated in the middle of the room, allowing him to walk to the other side and carefully place Guinevere on it, next to Elizabeth.
The girls, both so tired, barely acknowledged being jostled around, and when Guinevere gave a small snore, he smiled, gently tracing her cheek with his finger, before turning to exit the room.
Bors narrowed his eyes at the two of them. “There are two more rooms down there. You two can take one, I’ll take the other. Get some rest and then the two of you are going to do some explaining. Like who you really are.” Bors tone was harsh, leaving no room for argument.
“Wulf, guard,” Arthur said, pointing to the girl’s door.
Bors gave him a look. “That wolf of yours seems to listen. What happens if he turns against you?”
Arthur snorted, following him to a second room. “I’ve raised him since he was a pup. My father saved his grandfather’s life. I grew up with wolves. They have never turned on us.”
Bors looked at Wulf one more time before he stalked away from them. Neither wanted to take the time to remove all their clothes, so they just toed off their boots and removed their belts. Not wanting to be far from their swords, they lay on opposite sides of the bed, their hands resting on the swords that were still in their sheaths.
The room filled with silence. Arthur tried to fall asleep, but his mind was whirling with the memory of the night’s events. There was no way he was the missing prince. Wouldn’t his parents have told him? Is that why his mother never wanted him to go Camelot?
“Arthur,” Lancelot said, breaking the silence. “If you think this means I am going to call you, Your Highness or bow to you, you are mistaken.”
He burst into laughter and turned his head toward his cousin. “Go to sleep. Hopefully we live long enough for me to come up with some grand name that you can call me.”
Leave it to his cousin to make him laugh at such a moment. He wanted to ponder what it all meant, but once he closed his eyes, exhaustion overtook him, and he fell into a deep sleep.
His dreams were haunted by men with eyes that were almost pure black. Their teeth were sharp, their bodies painted with markings that covered their chests and faces.
He woke up with a start, shooting up in the bed. Breathing hard, he darted his gaze around, but he was alone in the room. He placed a hand over his chest and willed his breathing to go back to normal. As he did, his stomach rumbled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten in a long time. With a yawn, he stood up, put on his boots and belt, and then walked out of the room.
Wulf was no longer in the hall in front of the girl’s door, which was now open, and the buzz of speech echoed down the hall. He could hear the worry in Guinevere’s voice as she spoke. “Maybe if I go back and agree to marry him and never mention the sword, they will let them go and everyone can just go home and live in peace.”
“Milady, I assure you the moment that someone rides by that sword and notices it is missing, the rumors about the rightful king will spread. The King’s only play now is to kill the one holding the sword, for he is the rightful heir.” Merlin replied
He stood in the doorway just as Bors patted her on the back. “There is no way I would let you go back to Camelot. The prince is ruthless, and he would try to take his humiliation out on you. Your father will have to fight.”
Guinevere shook her head. “My father knows that he cannot match the number of men or weapons that Camelot has. His two options are to try and outlast the army by locking himself away or sending me back. Even with our large reserves, they will try and wait us out and kill everyone who didn’t make it into the castle walls.”
Merlin turned toward him first. “I see the king has awakened.”
“I am no king,” he said, clutching the hilt of the sword.
Merlin laughed, shaking his head. “The day you were born your mother’s companion was forced to bring you here and I bound you to the sword with blood. Then I branded you with your father’s ring. Do you feel the cut pulsing in your hand?”
At his words, an old scar throbbed on his palm. It was true he did feel an odd burning sensation every time his hand got near the sword. “I was raised by my mother and father. Neither of them is royalty.”
“The two that raised you are not the ones that birthed you. They both risked everything to keep you safe and love you very much. Your mother was the queen’s oldest friend and we knew that she would take care of you.”
Arthur’s world began to spin. This could not be true. His mother would have told him. A soft hand took his, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at Guinevere who was looking up at him.
She touched his cheek. “Arthur, no one but the true King of Camelot could have picked up that sword.”
Merlin’s face softened as he gave Arthur a sympathetic look. “She is right. The current king will not give up his throne quite so easily. I am afraid once you pulled that sword out, Morgana knew it, and she, too, will be looking for you. She will leave a trail of blood and death everywhere hunting you down.”
Arthur looked around the table. Bors, Elizabeth, and Lancelot stared at him as if they wanted him to say something. To give them words of wisdom. He didn’t know what to say or do. “If I just handed myself to the king, what would happen?” he finally asked, understanding now why Guinevere was so willing to sacrifice herself for her people.
Merlin narrowed his eyes at him. “Then your parents would have both died in vain trying to keep you safe and the darkness that has affected this land will continue. If you choose to run from your destiny, the little hope for your people will die with you. I never imagined you would turn out to be such a coward.”
Bors nodded. “The king has returned. There are many people who will fight for you. But if you are not willing to fight for them and lead them in battle, then these people will not survive.”
“The king will kill them just for speaking of me,” he protested. “What would be the point of that?”
“It is not just the king who wants you dead. Morgana would have known the moment you pulled out that sword. As long as you live, you are a reminder of what she considers her greatest failure, and the king will kill anyone who even mentions the sword is missing. Your family, friends, and everyone who has ever met you will be tortured for any information to find you. That sword has been the symbol of hope for many that you would return. Hope right now spreads through the land and you want to run away and hide,” Merlin said, appearing taller with every word spoken.
Everyone fell silent, and he studied each of them in turn. Lancelot scowled, his hand on his blade, as if he were daring the entire army to attack. Elizabeth kept her gaze on Guinevere, who was watching him intently. Arthur knew whatever he said now would haunt him forever. Either people would die trying to hide him, or people would die fighting with him.
Finally, his gaze locked on Merlin’s. “Either way, you are telling me people are going to die. Either fighting for me or trying to protect me, people are going to die. There has to be another way.”
With that, Arthur turned and stormed out the front door. He needed to go outside to clear his head. There was no way he could ask anyone to die for him. There was a good chance he would die either way, maybe handing himself over to the king would save everyone.
Before he got too far in his thoughts, a small hand touched his arm, pulling him from his thoughts. As he turned, his gaze met Guinevere’s. There was something about the way she looked at him that made him want to be the hero.
“This has got to be a mistake. There is no way I could possibly be king,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Guinevere smiled and started down the trail, dragging him with her. “You know, when I was little, I used to day dream that one day someone would come along and pull that sword out of the stones. That he would save me from having to marry Prince Greggory. That he would save my people.”
An image of her as a little girl, wishing for someone to come and save her, formed in his mind. Most girls dreamed of marrying powerful princes, but Guinevere had imagined someone who not only saved her from that fate but her people too.
“You were willing to sacrifice yourself to save your people. If I turn myself in, it should stop a lot of the killings,” he pointed out.
“Your father was known to be a great and magnificent king. If you turn yourself in they will kill you. People will whisper about you, and they will suffer for it. Their suffering won’t be over because you died. People have hope now. They need you. I need you.”
Those last words were a whisper. Arthur grabbed her hand and stopped her from walking. He turned her toward him and put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. He cupped her face and his thumb brushed against her cheek. “I don’t know if I can be the hero you are looking for.”
“You already are,” her words were barely a whisper.
With a groan, he bent down and captured her lips in a kiss. Her lips parted under his, her tongue tentatively came out and touched his. Arthur stroked her tongue with his and was rewarded when she did the same. He swallowed her moan and tilted her head deepening the kiss.
Guinevere’s arms slipped around his neck and held tight as he released her head to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him. Arthur had never lost himself to a kiss the way he lost himself in hers. The world disappeared until the only thing that mattered was her. Guinevere’s body fit perfectly against his, like she was made just for him.
Arthur broke the kiss and dragged his lips along her jaw, working his way to her ear. When he gently sucked on her earlobe, she groaned and dug her fingers into his shoulders.
He couldn’t help but chuckle and continued to tease her ear with his tongue, before sliding his teeth down the flesh of her neck. He felt her pulse beating rapidly under his lips. A small nip and she gasped, tightening her hands in his hair.
A cough rang out behind them. Arthur pulled away and muttered, “Damnit.” He looked down at her. Her chest was rising and falling quickly with her breath, her lips swollen. Arthur gave her a small kiss before turning around to face the person who’d decided to interrupt this perfect moment.
Lancelot stared at him as Guinevere tucked safely behind him. He lifted one bushy eyebrow, and his lip twitched, obviously trying to stifle a grin. “Merlin and Bors are getting ready to go. Bors wants to go to Caerleon and warn his king before the king and his army land at their doorstep. I am going to ride with them, so I can warn my parents about what has happened.”
Arthur nodded and reached behind him. He took Guinevere’s hand and followed Lancelot back to the cabin. When they rounded the corner, Bors and Merlin were saddling their horses, while Elizabeth was packing several different bags for everyone.
“Bors, how long do you think we have until Camelot’s men arrive at the gates?” Guinevere asked, releasing his hand and rushing to help him saddle one of the horses.
“It will be close. But if we leave now, Elizabeth and I should be there in time.” Bors nodded in Arthur’s direction. “Keep Guinevere safe.”
Chapter 16
“I’m going with you,” Guinevere said as she helped Elizabeth wrap up some cheese for their travels.
Her friend stopped packing and grabbed her hands. “Milady, you can’t come with us. That will be the first place they look, and we need to keep you safe.”
“My father is there, my people…”
“Will need you to be safe, otherwise the king will have no problem using you to force them to join in the fight against the true and rightful king,” Merlin interrupted.
She glanced around, feeling outnumbered. Bors stopped what he was doing to give her a fatherly look. “Guinevere, my job has always been to protect you, and I have rarely left your side. Please trust me when I say I think the right place for you is with Arthur and Merlin.”
“While you and Arthur were talking, we decided it would be best if Lancelot rode with them to warn his family about what is coming, while you ride with me and Arthur, so we can warn his family. Afterwards, all of us will meet at my keep.”
Guinevere looked to Arthur. She knew he still hadn’t decided what to do, but knew they had to warn their family and friends. As long as Arthur was alive, those closest to him would be hunted down. He had three choices, run away and hide, turn himself in, or fight and pray to the gods for victory. Either way, she knew that innocent people would die. That road was well-traveled, and she was sure rumors about the sword being pulled from the stone were already spreading.
She gave them a short nod of agreement. “Fine, but promise me you will both be safe. I can’t
lose you.”
Elizabeth gave her a hug, followed by Bors, who wrapped her up in his big arms, holding her tight. Tears came to her eyes. Almost all her life, she had been with at least one of them. When Bors pulled back, his own eyes pooled with unshed tears.
He glanced over her shoulder before whispering, “Don’t cry, my little princess. We will be together. Stay close to Merlin and Arthur in our absence.”
“How do you know Merlin?” Guinevere asked, curious.
“He was at the signing of your marriage contract. He put the wheels in motion. Your mother was there. Merlin told your mother that he would make you very happy.” The entire time he spoke, he kept an eye on what was going on behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. Lancelot and Arthur were near their horses, huddled close and whispering to one another. Turning her attention back to Bors, she asked, “And what do you think?”
“I think marrying anyone would be better than Prince Greggory. Arthur could be a worthy husband for you once he finds courage.”
She nodded and the two walked over to the group. All the horses were saddled, and the packs put on the sides. Arthur whistled and the wolf she had seen outside her door came running straight to him.
He scratched the wolf on the head. “Guard Lancelot.”
Lancelot smiled, giving Arthur a quick hug and pat on the back. Then, he patted Wulf on the head before mounting his horse. After Elizabeth mounted her horse, she eyed the wolf skeptically.
“Keep her safe, Merlin,” Bors said, giving the man a hard look.
Merlin smiled. “I will protect them both with my life. I promise.”
Bors nodded. “You better. I am trusting you.” With that, he nodded at her and gave her a look that reminded her of her childhood.
Guinevere went to mount her horse and Arthur came to her side, helping her up. She smiled in thanks while he fixed her stirrups, making sure she was comfortable. “Lancelot will help keep them safe while they ride to your home,” he told her.