Her whole demeanor was a shock to his system. Lance inclined his chin in her direction. “What? The shot not good enough for you, My Lady?”
Elizabeth glided over to him and took the bow from his hands. She inspected the carved wood and plucked the string. “Aye, it was satisfactory, but I didn’t mean for you to make the shot.”
His brow shot up. “Who did you mean then?”
Standing up to her full height, Elizabeth met him eye to eye. “Me.”
“You?” Lance chuckled. “You honestly think you can hit that target?”
“Aye, I do.” She nodded.
Removing an arrow from his quiver, Lance inspected it as she handed her cloak to Galahad. Elizabeth moved to the line, holding the bow up to gauge the distance between she and the target. Lance held out the arrow to her snapping it back before she could grab it.
Leaning close he whispered in her ear. “Tell the truth, you’ve never shot a bow before, have you?”
She turned her face so that her lips were a hair away from his. “Christian, there are many things you do not know about me. Perhaps you should hand over the arrow and step back so I may show you.”
He handed her the arrow and stepped back. Lance’s hands went up in surrender. “By all means, My Lady, show me your skill.”
Elizabeth took a steadying breath. Her hands shook as she nocked the arrow on the string. Rolling her head and shoulders, she let any tension melt away. She raised the bow, pulling back the string. The feathers on the arrow tickled her cheek, her eyes remained on the target. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep and relaxed. When she finally opened her eyes there was dead quiet around them. On her exhale she released the string.
Time stood still as the arrow flew toward the target. The clang of swords from the practice field in the distance was the only sound heard. Not one person surrounding them made a peep.
A hawk screeched as it flew above, breaking the spell. Elizabeth’s arrow hit the target, but it was too close to tell which of them was closer to dead center. Galahad jogged to the target to pull the arrows and announce the result. When he remained staring at the target, the murmur behind them got louder.
“Come on, Gal! Who was closer?” Lance shouted to his brother.
“You are not going to believe this.” He reached up and removed the arrows, carrying them back to the shooting line. He held them above his head. Elizabeth’s arrow had hit the feathered end of Lance’s and split the shaft all the way down to the point.
“Holy shit! A Robin Hood!” Lance took them from his brother as the cheers exploded from the crowd.
“A what?” Elizabeth crept closer, admiring the result of her shot.
“A Robin Hood. It’s what we call this shot where I’m from. Do you have any idea how difficult this is?” He stared at her in wonder.
“Aye. ‘Tis why I’ve practiced it since I was a child.” She glowed.
Before Lance took her in his arms, Arthur’s knights lifted them above the melee onto their shoulders. Elizabeth threw her head back, laughing. The crowd surged to congratulate her. She leaned forward to accept congratulations from those lucky enough to get close. As she smiled and spoke with them, Lance caught the side glances in his direction and smiles meant for him.
Pride filled his chest. He wanted to step forward and show everyone this exceptional woman was his, only his. He knew it was too soon. They hadn’t even had the chance to tell the King. Lance wasn’t sure their impromptu marriage would please the King. For all he knew, Arthur would demand it be annulled and then where would they be? Right back at square one.
He tapped Sir Gawain’s shoulder. When the knight looked up at him, Lance motioned to be let down. Both Gawain and Bohrs obliged, setting him down. They then started the task of thinning out the crowd. On the other side of the field, Tristan and Ector set Elizabeth on her feet. The other knights kept the surge of people back, directing the spectators back to their places.
Lance found Brianna and Rowan. Brother and sister stood to the side, enjoying the show laughing. He could see they wished they were the ones being celebrated. There was no way he could dash their hopes and declare only one of them a winner. He let out a shrill whistle to get Galahad’s attention. His brother looked up from gathering the arrows and bows. One signal from Lance and he knew what he wanted. Galahad put down the bundles and set off for the castle. When he returned, he held a small pouch. He brought both the pouch and the small gold archer trophy over to Lance.
As soon as everyone was calmed down, Lance called Rowan and Brianna over to stand with him at the shooting line. The siblings hurried over and flanked him on either side. He gave them each a wide grin.
“Since the contest has been deemed a draw,” Lance announced. “It falls on me to pick the winner.”
The crowd grumbled. Lance held up a hand to quiet them. “Let me finish. In good faith I cannot choose one over the other. Both of these young archers have proven their skill is far from lacking. So therefore . . .” he took the pouch from Galahad as his brother held the trophy out to Rowan. “Rowan and Brianna, you are both our reigning champions.”
Rowan took the trophy and held it high over his head with a hearty whoop. The crowd started cheering again. Lance faced Brianna and withdrew a thin piece of leather from the pouch. He opened his hand and the necklace unwound. An iridescent stone hung down in the middle of the strip, glowing in the sunlight. Brianna gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.
“If I may, My Lady?” Lance stretched out the necklace, waiting for her to turn around.
Brianna did as he bade and lifted the heavy mass of golden curls high on her head. He placed the necklace around her neck and tied the ends together. He stepped back as she let her hair fall. The girl swung around to face him, tears in her eyes, her hand wrapped around the stone.
Her blue eyes lit up with happiness. “Thank you, Lord Christian. I have never owned anything so beautiful.”
“It’s not nearly as beautiful as its new owner. Now get outta here! I’m sure your parents would love to see your prizes.” He laughed.
Neither child wasted any time and took off at a run to show off what they had won Leaving Galahad and Lance alone with the thinning crowd.
A whisper of fabric alerted him someone had moved up behind them as they worked to clean up. The light scent of heather on a soft breeze made Lance smile. Turning, he came face to face with Elizabeth. His mother was at her side, a satisfied smile etched on her lips.
“I must say, My Lord, I did not see that ending coming. Choosing both as winners will most likely make some angry.” Elizabeth’s voice was light as she spoke, but the underlying concern was distinctly noticeable.
“Beth.”
Her finger came up to his lips to silence him. Elizabeth shook her head, eyes darting to the stragglers close enough to hear.
Lance counted to ten and began again. “Lady Elizabeth, I did what I felt was right. They were equals and I saw no reason not to let them both enjoy the win. I’m sure you would have done the same in my shoes.”
“Aye, I would.” She beamed.
Galahad chuckled as he stepped forward, offering an arm to his mother. “Maman, would you allow me to show you to the King’s seating for the start of the next event?”
Elaine took her son’s arm. “Absolutely.” She allowed him to guide her toward the jousting field with the rest of the people who had begun to leave. She glanced back at Lance and Elizabeth to make sure they knew to follow as soon as possible.
Lance watched as the last person left. Once alone, he wrapped his arms around Elizabeth’s waist, pulling her close. She gasped when he dipped his head to capture her lips with his. Her lips parted granting him the pleasure of sweet nectar only her mouth could provide. When he finally pulled back they were both breathless.
He cupped her cheek, gazing deep into the green depths of her eyes. “I have waited all day to do that. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me not to pick you up and carry you away when you walked onto the field?”
She wrapped her hands around the belt at his waist and tugged him closer. “Aye, and ‘tis the same feeling I had watching you train for the last few months.”
“Really? All that time and you never acted on it?” He kissed the tip of her nose and reluctantly let her go. Lance held out his arm to lead her to the stands.
Elizabeth’s arm looped into his, an easy smile on her lips. “Aye, if you remember you did warn me off. Who am I to go against a direct order?” She smirked.
“Oh no, you’d never do anything that foolish, would you?” His words were laced with playful sarcasm.
She slapped him on the chest. “I have learned my lesson, Christian. You do not have to worry that I will put myself or you in danger again.”
Lance winked. “Beth, the day you don’t is the day I have to start worrying.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two men stood in the shadows created by the afternoon sun on Camelot’s walls. One wore untarnished black gleaming armor, the other garbed as a page. The black knight had his sword in his hands, testing the blade as he watched the couple in the distance. They had no clue anyone watched them. They thought themselves alone. The embrace and kiss they shared proved it.
The knight’s dark eyes took on a red glow. His anger starting to rise.
This was another reason he would lay waste to Camelot. First, King Arthur thought to make a deal with him and then attempt to break the contract. Galahad had the nerve to slight him before every knight in Arthur’s realm and beyond. And now, the lost son of Camelot thought to swoop in and claim the woman Rim was betrothed to.
Rimmon was not about to let that happen.
He had plans. Plans that did not include losing his only shot at becoming the ruler of Hell to a wolf. No, Christian Du Lac had to be taken care of, and soon.
The couple paused once more and embraced. Du Lac’s mouth claimed hers. Rimmon’s hand gripped the blade of his sword, cutting his flesh clear to the bone. The page cowered back out of his master’s sight. The beast took control of Rim. With a snarl of pure rage, he snapped the sword in half and tossed it at the castle wall.
They will pay. They will all pay.
Twenty Six
Brothers danced in the makeshift ring. The hiss and clang of swords sang as one tried to best the other in combat. They were hardly equal. What the elder lacked in skill he made up for in speed. Both wanted to taste the sweet fruit of victory, but only one would come out the winner.
Galahad’s eyes narrowed on his brother. “You realize at some point one of us will have to fall?”
Lance’s smirk was hidden behind the plate covering his mouth. “Absolutely. But I won’t be the one taking the dirt nap, Bro.”
The crowd around them took to chanting one name versus the other until the noise became nothing more than one huge mass of static Lance was used to the static. Years of damaging his hearing at concerts and clubs made him numb to the background noise. Galahad wasn’t so lucky. He could see it rattled his little brother.
Lance twirled the sword in his hands as Galahad charged. Dropping to the ground, Lance planted his foot in his brother’s stomach, propelling him up and over his head. The younger Du Lac somersaulted in the air, landing heavily on his back. Jumping to his feet Lance towered over Galahad, the tip of his sword between the chainmail and the bottom of his helmet.
“Do you yield?”
Galahad tried to catch his breath. “Aye. I yield,” he rasped between gasps.
Most of the crowd erupted in cheers and some grumbled. Others sifted through coins in their purses to pay off bets they had made.
Lance removed his helmet and held out a hand to Galahad. His brother took it, accepting the help with a grunt.
Once on his feet, Galahad pulled off his helm and filled his lungs with fresh air. “Where did you learn that move?”
“WWE on Monday night TV. You have no idea the moves you can pick up watching it. Even though the fighting is fake, they put on a great show.” Lance took Galahad’s sword and headed for the gate. “You coming or are you going to sit there and wait for someone to drag your ass to our tent?”
Galahad shook his head and followed. “WWE? TV? Have you taken to spelling everything out for me now?”
They reached the tent given to them by the King. Lance pulled back the flap and let Galahad enter first. The space was sparsely furnished since they had their own chambers in the castle. They didn’t need more than what they had been given for the duration of the tournament. Two pallets made of blankets and furs lay on the floor lining two walls of the tent. A table with silver domed platters, a wine skin, a fresh bowl of water, and two stools stood in the center. There was also a rack to store their swords and armor placed near the entrance.
Lance removed his heavy armor dropping it on the floor next to a pallet and fell back into the furs. He closed his eyes, groaning. “I know this is hard as a rock ,but it feels like heaven right now.”
Galahad shed his armor as well, placing it on the stand along with his sword. He sat on a stool at the table, peeking at the food left for them. He finally took the lid off the plates and swiped a chicken leg. He was half way through it when he looked in Lance’s direction. “Are you not going to eat?”
“You’re kidding, right? I barely have energy to sit up.” Lance opened one eye. “Where did the food come from anyway?”
“Who cares?” His brother pointed the chicken leg at him. “You have another round to go. You need to eat so you can compete. Besides, ‘twas probably Maman who sent it to us. Would you offend her by not sampling it?”
“That’s it, play the mom card.” Lance growled as he got up and crossed the room. He poured the wine into cups left for them and handed one to his brother. He grabbed a piece of meat and shoved it in his mouth. The spices used on it sent his taste buds into ecstasy. He hadn’t eaten anything remotely close to Cajun food since he arrived in Camelot, but this was damn close. It wasn’t gumbo, but it was ambrosia.
Taking a swig of the wine, Lance sighed. For the first time since he got here he felt like his old self. He hadn’t been that different, but he definitely changed since the first day he arrived.
Lance ate a few more pieces of meat and emptied his cup. He lifted the skin to fill his cup for a second time. As he was about to pour he noticed Galahad slumped forward on the table. Reaching over, he shook his brother to wake him. Galahad didn’t stir.
Lance’s eyes drifted closed. He blinked to clear his vision. His gaze shifted between Galahad and the empty cups. Realization dawned on him. They’d been drugged. Lance tried to speak, to call Zephyr, but words wouldn’t form. Darkness crashed down on top of him. His legs gave out. He reached for the first thing in his sight, the platter of food. His fingers brushed the polished metal slipping off the table.
His knees hit the packed dirt floor. The rest of him followed in what felt like slow motion. Lance tried to keep his eyes open. Whoever had done this to them would be coming to check their handiwork.
Lance struggled to take a breath. He reached for his sword as the tent flap opened. Blinding sunlight fell across his face, making him squint. A knight in dark armor stepped on Lance’s wrist, crushing it under a boot. He winced, grinding his teeth.
His assailant grabbed his hair, pulling Lance’s face out of the dirt. His slackened jaw fell open, eyes drooping lazily as he fought the effects of the drug.
“This one. He is the one I want.” The knight’s heavily accented voice was muffled behind the hinged faceplate on his helmet.
“Aye, My Lord, and what of the other?” The man next to him dressed as a page answered.
“I will deal with Galahad another time. Right now, he is the problem I must dispose of. Du Lac is from another place in time. Make it look as if he vanished. Leave no trace he is still in Camelot at all.”
The knight opened his faceplate. Red eyes glowed from the shadow within the helmet. The demon leaned closer and jerked upward on his hand, snapping Lance’s head backwards.
&nb
sp; A groan sounded foreign to Lance escaped from his throat. He cracked open his eyes to see the man who treated him like a rag doll. Icy tendrils of fear wrapped themselves around his gut twisting it into a knot. The face staring back at him was familiar.
“Rimmon”
Rim threw his head back with a deep guttural laugh. “That’s right, Pup. You took something that belongs to me. I mean to have it back.”
The demon’s rancid sulfuric breath made Lance gag “Fuck you.”
Lord Rimmon’s eyes cooled into black orbs of pure malice. “I am going to break you Du Lac. When I am finally done, you will be the one begging to be fucked. That is, if you still live.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Are you sure we can be seen here, My Lady? I do not think you should have left without a chaperone.” Beatrix’s eyes darted to each tent they passed. From the shadows created by the torches lighting their way a few lower ranked knights made lewd comments in their direction. The maid blushed, scurrying forward and almost running into Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stumbled “Bea, we shall be fine. Look there . . .” She pointed to the end of the row. “Christian and Galahad are just ahead.”
“I agree with your maid, Lady Elizabeth. This is no place for you to be unattended.” Before she could tuck her hand back under her cloak, someone grabbed it. She was yanked forward into the hard chest of a hooded figure.
Elizabeth gasped. Her gaze drifted upward until she saw glowing yellow eyes staring back at her. With an unladylike snort, she pushed her captor away. “If I wanted the opinion of Merlin’s servant I would have asked for it. Leave us, Zephyr.”
She pushed past him. Zephyr held out his arm, blocking her way. “If you will not go back to the castle, at least allow me to be your escort.”
Her gaze met his in silent challenge. “If I say nay, what will you do?”
The vampire shrugged. “I will probably follow you.”
“Following me proves nothing, you know.”
“Perhaps not, but I can assure no one bothers you. Watch.” He jerked his head toward an unsavory looking urchin watching them from between two tents. Zephyr slipped the hood of his cloak from his head. He advanced, hissing, bearing sharp lethal looking fangs.
Beyond Time: A Dark Order of the Dragon Novel (The Dark Order of the Dragon Book 2) Page 20