The Pendragon Legacy: Sons Of Camelot Book One

by Sarah Luddington

  That morning I’d held Torvec in my arms. A man who understood this dance and now I held Galahad, who knew nothing of the vagaries of life. I drew back and sat straight. His hands were on my thighs and his expression changed from one of peace to one of confused fear.

  “You can’t do this, can you?” he asked.

  I placed my hands on his and moved them from my body. “No, Galahad. I made love to Torvec this morning. I made him promises with words and with my body. I can’t do this to him or you. I won’t. My father’s life was plagued by there being too many people in his marriage and in Lancelot’s bed. I’m not doing that to us. The pain they endured for years marred my childhood.”

  “Is that why you are so scared to love?” he asked.

  I chuckled. “Very perceptive and I have no idea. I try hard not to think about such things.” With a great deal of regret I moved off his body. “Get dressed, Galahad. I need some time to think about this turn of events.”

  I turned my back on him, assuming he’d obey me. “Tell me you love me,” he said, wrapping his arms around my chest, his lips against my ear and his hips tight against my backside. I felt all of him pressed into my body as he held me.

  My head rolled back onto his shoulder in surrender. “Galahad, I held Torvec this morning and told him I loved him. We can’t do this,” I groaned. “Have mercy.”

  His hands became rough on my shoulders and turned me toward him. “Tell me. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me,” he goaded.

  That dark gaze was so young, innocent, untested in true battle but so intense. “I love you,” I admitted. I stroked his soft hair and he turned to kiss my arm where he could reach it. That kiss moved to my mouth and we devoured each other once more with hunger.

  A knock on the door dragged us back and a voice said, “Galahad, have you seen Holt? We need him.”

  “I’m trying to sleep,” Galahad said as I whispered it was Morgan. “Go away, he’s not here.”

  The door opened. “I need your help finding... Holt,” she finished, looking at me. Her eyes moved from Galahad’s half-naked and somewhat dishevelled state to my erection. Her eyes shot to mine in a heartbeat. “Um, Holt, Lance says he needs you. Torvec’s gone with Whisper and he seems to be heading toward The City.” She grinned at me and then laughed before backing out of the room.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “She’ll tell the others,” Galahad said. “This is terrible for you. For your honour.”

  I kissed him. “I am respected for my skills as a hunter, tracker and warrior, not my skills as a faithful lover. I have no honour in that regards and Morgan won’t tell anyone. I have far too much evidence of her own indiscretions. She will however, tease us about it unmercifully.” I reached for his shirt. “Get dressed, I need your help finding Torvec.”

  “Why has he run? He can’t know about us,” Galahad said.

  “He’s full fey at the very least, who knows what he’s felt happening between us.”

  “Unless it’s something else,” Galahad said slowly. “Perhaps he seduced you into bringing him with us, into you loving him. What if he was a plant?”

  I stared at him in astonishment. “What?”

  “Holt, I know it’s not something –”

  “No, Galahad.”

  “Holt, you have to –”

  “No!” I barked. “If he felt what we’ve just done, then this is our fault. Torvec is not a traitor.” I yanked open the door and ran down the hall toward the stable.

  I felt sick. How could I have done this? What the fuck had I done? I had the best chance of happiness in Torvec and I threw it away because of Galahad.

  I made it to the stables and found Sparrow already saddled. Lance rode a small mare, she’d have come from Yvain’s stable and would be fast. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked me as I threw myself into Sparrow’s saddle.

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “Holt,” Galahad, dressed only in hose and boots, with his shirt in his hand, ran into the yard. “You’ll never catch up with him. This isn’t your fault.”

  I felt the rage building inside me lash out. “No, it’s not my fault. It’s yours.”

  I turned Sparrow and we were galloping out of the stable. Lance rode low over the mare’s back and she soon outstripped us. We rode north toward The City. The wind rushed past me and stole the moisture from my eyes. I tried to think about the consequences of Torvec leaving and I heard Galahad’s words all too clearly. Could he be a plant? How could The Lady know me well enough and how would she know where we stayed to ensure Torvec found me?

  Lance galloped up a hill bordering his land and pulled his mare up. I slowed Sparrow. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “He has too much of a lead and I can’t risk you close to The City,” Lance said pointing toward a small white blob moving quickly across the plain.

  “I have to try,” I said.

  “Wait, Holt, just wait,” Lance said, forcing the mare in front of Sparrow. “Think about this.”

  “He’s my lover,” I shouted. “I’ve let him down.”

  “He’s a stranger,” Lance said with some brutality. “We can’t catch him.”

  “I’ve broken his heart,” I said with frustration.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “We don’t have time,” I yelled.

  “Holt, talk to me. What have you done?” He sounded so calm he stole my rage.

  “Galahad... He... We,” I began. “Torvec is full fey, maybe more, I don’t know and he’d have felt something. He must have done. Galahad and I were...” I rubbed my eyes. My heart ached and I felt sick.

  “Let’s go home,” Lance said quietly. “I don’t think this is your fault.” I stared out after the moving shape. “Holt, we will never catch Whisper. He’s too fast. Torvec has gone whatever the reason. You’ve lost him.”

  I turned Sparrow and wanted to cut out my heart it hurt so much. It took a long time to reach the villa and I felt sick in mind and body. We rode in silence, Lance leaving me to my own unpleasant thoughts. When we reached the stable Galahad paced the yard, now dressed, and his eyes were filled with misery and relief. Morgan and Nim sat on a fence nearby, jumping down when they saw us.

  Nim held a sheaf of parchment in her hand. She walked to Sparrow and held it up to me. “I found this in your room,” she said.

  I took the letter and saw the blob of wax on the back, still whole. My name marked the front, in a flowing script I didn’t recognise. I broke the seal and saw Torvec’s name at the bottom.

  I don’t know how to write this letter. I know it will end everything between us and I have been truly happy in your arms. Know that I am sorry, sorry for it all but I had no choice. I am her slave. She owns me, just as you own a knife.

  I have to tell her your plans so you need to run. She is more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Be happy with Galahad, he knows nothing about this or the plans The Lady has for him. I know you love him, I can feel it, that love is more honest than the love you felt for me. I stole his share of your heart. You are right, I’m not fey, I’m something far worse.

  Never doubt I loved you and always will.

  Torvec

  Someone took the letter from my hand. “Holt, you need to get down,” Nim said. “Come on, get down.”

  I closed my eyes and I tried to swallow the bitter taste of betrayal. I’d been...

  A tumble of words and feelings. I’d loved him. I’d given him the key to my sanctuary. He’d had access to me, to my body, to my family. He’d held me when I’d wept over the loss of my mentor and friend. He’d taken me from Galahad.

  My eyes snapped to Galahad’s. He stared at me with wounded dark eyes. I’d told him I loved him and then raced off after Torvec who’d betray us all.

  “Holt, get down. We need to eat,” Nim said quietly.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off her brother and he didn’t move. We were stuck. I didn’t know how to articulate what I felt. I wasn’t even certain I
understood how I felt.

  “Holt,” Morgan snapped. “Get over it. He betrayed us to The Lady, we have to move and we move now. You can eat on the road. Both of you. Lance, get the horses. We have enough food packed. Where are we going, Holt?” She shook my leg where it pressed against Sparrow’s sweaty flank. “Pendragon, where are we going? You are the King here, you give the orders.”

  I finally tore myself from Galahad’s tragic expression. “Desert,” I said. My mind shifted, suddenly rushing in focus. “We continue with the plan but we don’t use the portals. They are too dangerous and she’ll have them watched. It’s too easy for her to trap us using them, she’s the one with the real power, not us. We go to the river on the edge of Lance’s land. We hire boats down there and sail to the great deserts.”

  “The horses?” Morgan asked.

  “We’ll have to leave them in Haven, we have no idea how long we’ll be at sea. I don’t like trusting you and your sister to horses we don’t know but I don’t think we have any choice.” I stroked Sparrow’s neck. “We should have destriers for combat though.”

  She nodded. “You’ll manage without warhorses; you are all good enough to train them while we move. Give us a little time and we’ll be ready, Sire.”

  I watched her slim figure race off and thanked the gods for her spine of steel. I dismounted from Sparrow and handed him to a groom, giving instructions for his care until we left. I walked to Galahad.

  We were the same height and I stood looking at him from little more than a hand-span away. “You were right. He was a traitor. You knew.”

  “I suspected. It was all so convenient,” Galahad said.

  “What, that I’d find someone to love me?” I asked bitterly.

  His face crumbled and he stared at the ground, his hands twisting his shirt tails. “No, no, Holt. That’s not it. You are easy to love, but I don’t think you love quickly. I think you charm men into your bed but you walk away all too easily and I don’t think you understand how many hearts you’ve broken in the process.” He spoke quietly so the stable-hands couldn’t hear us. “For you to love him there had to be more involved than simple desire.”

  “I’ve hurt you,” I said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Torvec has hurt you more,” he said. He looked up at me through his lashes and a small drift of stray black hair.

  I pulled him into me, our embrace sudden and rough. “The biggest betrayal was thinking he could replace you with his false magic and for that I blame myself,” I said.

  Galahad shuddered and relaxed into my body. “I thought I’d lost you when you left with him that night.”

  “You were with Valla,” I said.

  He pulled back and looked up. “I dreamt of you. I heard you with him. It hurt, it confused me, made me angry. I was so angry with you for making me feel something I shouldn’t. How could I want you? It was so wrong.”

  The words rushed from him as if we’d never be able to talk again and he had to make it clear how much I meant to him before I vanished forever. I stroked his cheek with my knuckles. “Oh, love. I...” I ran out of words. He’d done what any man should – bed his woman because he didn’t think he had another option and I’d slept with Torvec as payback.

  Galahad held me and I felt his lips against my neck. I whispered regretfully, “Not here, love. Too many eyes. You are too important to risk.”

  “But somewhere?” he asked.

  I smiled. “I promise.”

  “Good.” He left my arms and walked toward the house to finish packing and dressing. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun, needing the slowly rising wind and warmth to steal the hurt in me and replace it with the joy of finding Galahad. That was something worth celebrating. And yet, I knew I needed to think about Torvec and exactly what he’d done to me, who he was and why he was enslaved to The Lady.

  “But not now,” I told the ghosts I missed so badly.

  I returned to the room I’d shared with Torvec the night before and stood looking at the mess. He’d split our hurriedly packed bags and left my things strewn all over the place. I started to pick things up, trying hard to rein back my rising temper, until I found my house key, the one I’d given him. It lay on the sideboard, propped up against the washing jug.

  I picked it up and slipped it into the purse hanging from my belt. Then I picked up the jug and hurled it against the wall. The basin went next. By the time I’d finished the room was decimated and I stood in the middle panting with the effort.

  “Holt?” came the soft question from the doorway.

  “I’ll be out shortly, Nim,” I said.

  “Galahad’s worried.”

  I nodded and the door clicked shut. Why was I so angry? Grief perhaps. The grief of my lost family, the grief of losing what little freedom I had by becoming King of Camelot, the grief of being lied to when I thought I was loved and the grief of losing that illusion. I also realised my pride hurt, I’d been taken advantage of and I’d fallen for a pretty smile and kind word.

  “Time to start again, Holt,” I told myself. “Start again and make a better job of it this time.” I picked up my bags and coat, threw them over my shoulder and left the mess behind. By the time I reached the stable yard I felt... like me and I was alright with that.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sparrow stood ready, not looking terribly pleased but saddled. The others were all mounted. Galahad glanced at me but looked down once more, avoiding my eyes. I walked toward him and placed my hand on his solid thigh. “It’ll be alright,” I said.

  He nodded. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  I smiled. “I will be. It’s been a difficult few days.”

  I left him and returned to my horse. I swung up into the saddle, watched Lance give the last orders his people needed and when he gave me the nod I gave the order to move out. There were five of us, five of us to change Albion.

  We rode quickly out of the villa and through the grounds. My family and Lance’s had made many changes to this place over the years and a good paved road bordered the river. The trees had been cleared and a trading post built. When we reached the river, we rode downward toward the coast and I could see the piers sticking out into the slow moving river with ships tied up at the docks.

  I’d spent many of my childhood lessons staring at the maps of Albion and trying to understand the changes being made by The City and Camelot. Our small city state needed protection and needed to be made more important. By giving these lands to the Fitzwilliams everything tied back to the royal houses of Albion and Camelot. The only way Camelot would have influence lay with land and the clever use of that land. If we had power, we could protect ourselves and Albion’s royal family. We’d taken the opportunity and helped ourselves and many other communities.

  The previous incumbent of this estate wanted a playground. We saw a way of moving goods and services far more quickly to the capital from the outlying districts. The City sat in a bowl, in the centre of vast valley, with its river running past Camelot. That river then followed its path and flowed into a range of mountains bordering the western end of valley. These mountains were impossible to build on in any constructive manner for trade so the River Sant had true potential.

  The vast river running through the centre of the huge valley split fifty leagues upstream from The City and this branch became a lifeline. Geraint and my father had it dredged and used the skill of Camelot’s artisans and builders to create seaworthy ships and docks able to take them. Suddenly we were influential. We could move anything from the centre of Albion into the rest of the known world and back again. The people of Albion didn’t really make the most of the water surrounding their vast continent; the people of Camelot saw an opportunity. We knew about ships, trade and building, so we exploited our knowledge and the use of so much land.

  We rode along a bustling highway and into the busy trading post. Wooden buildings were slowly being replaced by stone, shops were expanding; people were selling, others were buying and a vast ten
ted marketplace filled the centre, overflowing into the side streets. Men were trying to pave the dirt roads, build water fountains and sewage channels. Taverns were doing quick trade in the warm climate and the smell of animals and people filled the air to match the level of noise.

  The smash of chisel and stone from the buildings being built reverberated throughout. The shouts of traders selling their wares worked in competition. The conversations of women and children as they went about their household business acted as a background hum. The smells from the river, freshwater fish, sea fish brought in from the coast by Camelot’s sailors, and spices traded from the desert lands. Everywhere were the colours of Camelot, flags flew from shop fronts and armed men moved with purpose as town guards; a mix of the Lance’s share of the Wolf Pack, Camelot’s city guard and Fitzwilliam’s own guard. The list of trades I noticed or smelt grew too large to keep track of clearly.

  “It’s grown,” I said amazed.

  “It’s been a busy year for us both, me here and you trying to hold The City and Camelot together,” Lance said, riding beside me.

  “I’m guessing my sister is making certain everyone is taxed correctly?” I asked.

  Lance laughed. “Yes, Camelot’s coffers should be full by now.”

  I clapped my friend’s shoulder. “The people of Camelot make me proud. You are a good man, Lance Fitzwilliam, and I am in your debt.”

  “You soon will be if this economy keeps growing,” he said happily.

  We wove our way to the dock, various people recognising Lance and I, which felt reassuring. I hadn’t realised how much I loved the security involved with being on familiar territory that belonged to me.

  “Holt! You old rogue,” came a welcoming cry.

  I twisted in my saddle, searching for the owner of the voice. A man, shorter and stockier than me with cropped black hair and a cocky smile which had once made my stomach do strange flips, fought his way toward us.

  “Captain Raven,” I called out and slipped from Sparrow’s saddle. We came together in a crash of steel against metal – me in basic chain mail and plate, him in more jewellery than I would ever be able to lift. “As I live and breathe, you old pirate, what are you doing here in Haven Port?”