“If The Lady wants Camelot gone and me dead – what are you going to do to stop her?” I asked into the quiet surrounding us.
“I don’t know. Argue your cause after I have the throne?” he suggested. He faced the sun with his eyes closed. He’d never have his father’s constant battle with stubble, his skin was softer and more like his mother’s. My heart ached for him but I laid the feeling aside with a firm thought.
“That’ll take a year, Galahad, and there is no guarantee you’ll win,” I pointed out helpfully.
“Then once my mother has... gone... we’ll go to my foster mother and beg her to understand.” His hand patted my thigh. “I’ll explain you aren’t like your father and it’ll all work out. She’s not a monster, Holt.”
That’s not what I’d heard about her. His words also saddened me. “I am not like my father, I’m worse,” I said quietly. “Your father did not really see the difference between men and women when he fell in love. My father preferred to be with Lancelot over all others. I simply prefer men. I have never been with a woman and never shall. They hold no interest for me sexually.”
Galahad gradually withdrew from me as I spoke. Not physically, but I could feel his detachment and it hurt; however, I wasn’t about to start hiding who I was just to protect his sentiments. He’d thrown his disgust at Uncle Tancred and I felt like retaliating despite the fact he’d saved my life.
“What you feel is one thing, what you practice is something else,” he managed to say with a civil tongue.
My mouth twitched in a grim smile. “So, we remain friends on the proviso I remain celibate?”
He stared at me in shock. “You aren’t a virgin?” he asked.
I lost it at that point and the wheezing painful laugh drew stares from the passersby. Galahad rose stiffly and left me, retreating to the confines of the infirmary. I was still smiling, with my face to the sun, when Tancred returned.
“All alone?” he asked.
“Seem to be,” I said.
“Antagonising him won’t help, you know.”
I grinned. “No, but it does amuse me. And you shouldn’t be reading either of us that closely.”
“You two are two of the most important men in Albion. If you fall out, there will be war and I, for one, don’t want to be stuck in the middle,” Tancred said seriously. “Listen, I know it hurts when you are attracted to someone you can’t have –”
“Stop,” I said. He stepped back from whatever he saw in my expression. I felt a cold anger brewing. I didn’t need a lecture from him about my life. “I am well aware of the consequences of having your heart broken. I think I’m wise enough not be that foolish.” I still remembered my father’s tears over Lancelot’s love for my Uncle Tancred.
Tancred nodded. “Fair enough, Holt. I have chosen those you are to travel with, you can leave in the morning. Your horses are well rested and your supplies replenished.” The worry in his expression didn’t leave though; if there was one thing he understood but I didn’t want to acknowledge right now, was how love could tear you apart despite the best of intentions.
“Thank you, Uncle. Once more you have shown your love and commitment to the thrones of Albion and Camelot. I am grateful, it will not be forgotten.” My words were a formula, cold and dismissive. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want Tancred to peel back the layers of sadness and loneliness which made me vulnerable.
He sighed and left me, going to Galahad. I heard them talking but I couldn’t bring myself to listen. I closed my eyes once more and dozed in the soft afternoon warmth. Tomorrow would be soon enough to grow anxious with the responsibilities of my life.
That night I slept well and dreamlessly. When Fox woke me in the morning I dressed in gambeson and hauberk. The weight almost floored me it pressed down on the healing wound so much, but once we’d adjusted everything it wasn’t so bad, if you liked feeling as if your insides wanted to escape. I strapped on my sword and tried to move smoothly.
“Take it easy, Holt,” Fox remonstrated. “It took a lot of work to bring you back from the edge of death, you’ve done some serious damage.”
“I know, I just don’t like the thought of being helpless around Galahad, he’s so fucking perfect,” I said. I moved to the door and Fox came with me. “I mean look at him.” We both gazed at the tall, strong young man with the long dark hair and shining armour. “If that’s what my father saw when Lancelot was a young man no wonder he struggled to remain faithful to my mother, and her to him.”
Fox chuckled. “You are a strange man, Holt. And he’s not so perfect. He’s too prideful for you and he knows how perfect he is; the humility is not quite as it seems, I’m sure of that much at least.”
“Regardless, I get to watch him be beautiful, that’s a start,” I said. We both stood in silence as Galahad chatted to a very lovely woman called Valla. She was dressed for travel so I guessed she was one of our guards. Her russet hair shone dark red in the morning light and her green eyes crinkled endearingly when she smiled or laughed. Galahad blushed the entire time he spoke to her and she gazed at him adoringly. If they weren’t fucking by nightfall I’d be very surprised.
The others gathering around the horses consisted of a woman who must be Valla’s sister but didn’t seem to like smiling, just scowling at our other companion – a huge man, dark skinned but with ice blue eyes and long thick locks down his back. He didn’t seem to have any other expression but stoic acceptance.
“Who are they?” I asked Fox.
“That’s Nest, she’s Valla’s older sister. She’s a hard woman to like but she’s one of the finest warriors we have. The man is known as Kerwin. He’s fast – I mean blurrily fast – as man or wolf. They are both good at what they do but unfortunately they are also bitter rivals since their betrothal fell apart. I have to confess that Tancred is hoping they might come to an understanding on the journey. Their union would make the pack stronger.”
“You want me to play match maker?” I asked.
“It would be nice, you can be very diplomatic when you want to be,” Fox said, trying to charm me.
I grunted and pushed off the doorway. Sparrow nodded his head in familiar welcome when he saw me. I rubbed his ears and told him thanks for his efforts. Someone had thoughtfully cleaned my blood off my kit and his coat, so we were all nice and wholesome as I heaved myself into the saddle. Tancred approached as the others mounted up and lay a hand on my knee.
“Morgana,” he stopped and I saw the pain in his face. “I can feel her passing. Albion is mourning the loss of them and the White Hart. If I could, I would be there –”
I lay a hand on his and said, “It’s alright, Uncle. I know why and so did Lancelot. He understood why you can’t leave the Wild Wood, as does Morgana. Know they loved you and in their passing they will wait for you.”
His warm, soft brown eyes filled with tears. “Can you tell her... Can you tell her I miss her and we will see each other soon enough. Tell her I will keep Albion safe while Galahad learns his place. Tell her I love her.” He whispered the last bit and I knew it was meant for Lancelot.
I nodded, unable to speak past my own grief. Something inside me feared I would never see my Uncle Tancred again and I moved into a new world without any of them. Before I could disgrace myself completely I ordered the others forward and we walked slowly out of the wolves’ village and into the deep heart of the Wild Wood of Albion.
I rode slowly, trailing some distance behind the others, and just watched their backs. Valla and Galahad chatted happily and I could practically see his virginity dissolving around him. She tossed her loose red hair and flashed her white smile, while her athletic body rode her horse effortlessly. I wanted to hurt her – badly.
Nest, her red hair darker and ruthlessly tied back in a single plain braid, rode in silence. Her back was straight, her hands strong on her moody mare’s reins and her hard face constantly scanning the surrounding area. I realised her build was slightly smaller than her sister, finer, but her attitude made her a
ppear bigger. She clearly didn’t want to be with us and she clearly didn’t like Valla flirting with their charge.
Kerwin rode just behind her, his stallion constantly fighting to ride beside the mare with which he was obviously familiar. Kerwin didn’t ride with the same fluid grace as the women and I thought he’d be more comfortable on foot. The long braids down his back swayed with each step. He glanced at Nest constantly and it was clear who’d ended their relationship.
I ambled behind them and considered my own situation. Time moved differently here in Albion and the mark of days didn’t show itself in the same way; if we were still in England I’d be considered thirty winters old. Long past marriageable age in some respects. My advisors pushed constantly for me to find a suitable match and were forever presenting me with lists from Albion’s royalty and our own. Isabel, my wonderful sister, did all she could to deflect them and ruled in my stead constantly. I spent as much time as possible out of Camelot and ran errands or fought skirmishes all over Albion for The City. I longed to share my life with someone special and have the same love my father had with Lancelot but I’d just about given up hope. The short affairs I’d enjoyed never came close to moving me emotionally and I knew I’d have to marry at some point to continue the family line. The thought made me miserable because everyone in Camelot knew what I was – it remained an open secret – so a new bride would know she was doomed to a cold and empty marriage before we’d even started.
Then there was Galahad. He’d already threatened me and Camelot. My small but successful city would not stand a chance against The City. The roads between us were littered with villages which thrived on the busy trade but we were, in so many ways, dependant on our permanent hosts. He didn’t approve of me, he didn’t like my people and he would either revert to the boy I remembered or continue to be The Lady’s puppet with her hand up his arse making his mouth flap.
The uncharitable thought made me snort with bitter humour. Kerwin turned and looked at me. “Something wrong, my Lord?” he asked. The deep baritone rumbled out of him.
“No,” I said. “And it’s Holt, Kerwin, not ‘my lord’.”
He nodded and reined back his horse to allow Sparrow to catch up. “How is your injury?” he asked.
I looked down at my side, as if I could see through the layers of metal and clothing. “Hurts, but I’m alright.”
He nodded. “I’m glad, I thought you were going to die when I found you. Galahad almost took my head off considering me an enemy. It seems The Lady has no love lost for shifters.”
I frowned. “You found us? I didn’t know. Thank you, Kerwin. As for The Lady – she doesn’t like anyone that doesn’t conform to her way of life. Galahad is fighting his prejudices for many things, but at least he seems to have forgiven the shifters for existing.” I nodded toward Valla.
Kerwin actually smiled. It made his face soften and turned him from a man too harsh to love – to someone who you’d want to induce into smiling at every opportunity. “Valla certainly has a way with her. She is easy to like and quick to forgive but also quick to temper so our prince is in for an interesting education.”
I chuckled. “He needs it. He’s far too uptight. Nest seems very different to her sister,” I said, testing the ground for Uncle Tancred’s plan.
“Nest is the most wonderful woman I am ever going to meet,” Kerwin said sadly.
“Does she know you think that?” I asked, badly faking surprise. He didn’t seem to notice as he stared longingly at her back.
“She does. We were to marry. Then I allowed myself to be distracted by someone else while out on patrol and away from home. Nest discovered my foolishness and left me. I am without honour and deserve her disgust,” he said. Misery dripped from every word and thought, the poor man was genuine.
“Oh. That’s a tricky one. Nest has good reason to be angry with you,” I said.
He nodded. “I know.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Once we were out of the heart of the Wild Wood we picked up the pace and spent the day riding hard. Toward late afternoon we broke free of the forest and I began to feel sick with the constant pain in my side. I needed to stop. Eventually Galahad called a halt to the day. Sparrow heaved with relief as I moved stiffly out of the saddle.
“You don’t look well,” Galahad announced from behind me. These, the first words he’d said to me all day.
“You say the kindest things,” I said.
“I’m concerned,” he said. I looked at him and realised I’d just kicked a puppy. How any son belonging to Lancelot could look so mournfully hurt I’d never understand.
I sighed and forced myself to be pleasant. He wanted Valla and even I could see why. “Sorry, Galahad. I’m in considerable pain and I am not looking forward to spending the night sleeping on rough ground. It’s making me bad tempered.”
“You should have said you were unwell. We could have stopped sooner. Or gone on to find the next town,” he said.
I raised a tired smile. “It’s fine. The most important thing is for me to get you home. I can rest afterwards. Forgive me for my sour temper, I’ve been travelling alone for so long I’d forgotten what it’s like to be in civilised company.”
“Let me see to Sparrow, it’s the least I can do to help,” he said, taking the dun’s reins from my slack grasp.
“I’d be grateful,” I said. He smiled, an open and honest smile, it made my heart race. He was so lovely when he wasn’t being hateful.
I opted for the easy job of cooking as everyone else made camp. I threw in the barley, dried beans and peas, then cut up a ham Tancred had given us. With lumps of cheese and the fresh bread we still carried it would be a fine meal. The good weather of the southlands in Albion meant we’d not need tents to sleep and I looked forward to watching the stars overhead. Nest came to help me with firewood in her arms and we finally spoke to each other. We talked of the journey and the best path to take to The City and I discovered I liked her. She felt very self-contained and spoke in short sentences to match her short movements, as though to do anything else was overly flamboyant and therefore wasteful. Completely the opposite of her sister, who briefly danced around the horses, laughing with Galahad about something, her red hair floating around her and Galahad gazing at her adoringly.
Nest chuckled as she tracked my soulful gaze. “My sister always gets what she wants.”
“Hmm,” I said, concentrating on the fire. “It’ll probably be the making of him.”
Nest placed a hand on my arm when I reached forward to stir our meal in the cooking pot. “You are like our Prince, aren’t you?” she asked quietly.
I stared into her eyes looking for judgement. The wolves weren’t known for being tolerant. I opted for the truth. “Yes.”
She nodded. “I’d heard rumours. You are a handsome man, it’s a shame but you must find your own happiness.”
“Sometimes happiness comes with forgiveness,” I said quietly. I half expected her to stand up, slap me hard and storm off into the night.
Instead her green eyes swam with tears. “But that only works if you can find it in your heart to forgive.”
“If you want to forgive, you are halfway there. My family knows a great deal about forgiveness,” I said.
“Tancred has told me of this,” she said. “Perhaps we will talk again, Loholt Pendragon.”
The wolves used full names to end conversations in a formal way so you’d know when not to push them. I decided to accept her silence and we finished cooking without sharing more words.
Kerwin appeared from the growing darkness with a brace of birds in his huge black hand and silently handed them over to Nest. She accepted them without comment or meeting his eyes. It would be a long journey.
Valla protested she was cold after dinner and decided the only thing which could warm her was Galahad’s arms. I retired to my bedroll saying I’d take my turn at watch whenever they wanted me.
The reactions Galahad kept producing in me confused and surp
rised me. I didn’t behave like this – I was never attracted to men I couldn’t have, there wasn’t any point for start and I couldn’t be bothered with the aggravation. I’d never been short of willing partners, just short of the kind I’d want to commit to for any length of time. Was this some sort of fantasy because of our fathers? If so, I really needed to gain control over my imagination, I did not enjoy the way this made me feel. Or perhaps I wanted to tie myself to someone I couldn’t have because it suited my perverted sense of emotional torment?
When my mother had discovered it would be unlikely I’d be willingly producing grandchildren she’d screamed at my father for so long he’d left Camelot in the middle of night and we’d not seen him for six months. He’d blamed himself no matter how much I tried to explain it wasn’t his fault. He’d also been unwilling to accept I couldn’t bring myself to love a woman. He’d been able to love both my mother and Morgana, so why couldn’t I make a similar gesture? At that point I’d tried using Uncle Tancred as my example but that didn’t really help. Lancelot intervened eventually and told them both to leave me alone. He’d then sent me to the borderlands to fight the Salamanders with whom we were still officially at war, and told me to learn about myself so I could come home stronger. I loved him for that, sending me away so I could become a man without my parents and extended family owning my every move and thought.
I rummaged around inside my head for answers about Galahad until I fell asleep and later during my turn at watch. Nothing made itself apparent – I was just going to have to live with my growing infatuation and hope it didn’t ruin me for life.
In the morning we rose and ate quickly. Nest insisted on looking at the wound and I saw it properly for the first time. A long jagged red line, still open in some places, circled half my flank, just under my ribs.
“I’m amazed my insides didn’t fall out,” I muttered.
“They tried,” Galahad said softly. He’d gone pale looking at the scar. “It was awful. I thought you were going to die. You were so ill.”
The Pendragon Legacy: Sons Of Camelot Book One Page 3