Page 10 of The White Knight

I smile back at him. I love him back. I do. Not in the same way he loves me though. When he offered me a life as his queen, I could see then that he cared for me, even though we had talked little when I first arrived at Camelot all those years ago. I know now this was because he realized Lancelot was in love with me and didn’t wish to interfere.

The love Arthur had—still has—for Lancelot was the reason I had said yes to him. Though it took me years to move on. I knew Arthur would place that love on Lancelot’s child, and I wanted that love for my son. I didn’t grow up with a father, but I felt the love of a dad. And my child would have that love too.

Chapter 7

Guinevere

Mordred keeps his distanceafter being dismissed by Arthur during Galahad’s sword training. His absence is celebrated by a small group of us who have grown to detest the bastard. With him away, it’s much easier for me to relax. I sing with delight and ease in the great hall, entertaining our guests and Galahad.

Even Arthur seems to enjoy himself more without Mordred’s constant hovering, questioning, and moodiness. As I sing “Till There Was You” to my little guy, I sneak a glance at Arthur. He smiles from ear to ear, his happiness radiating, spreading around the great hall like a contagion.

Galahad sits at Arthur’s side. The pair of them truly look like father and son. Galahad, with his caramel brown hair, a color that turns blonde in the blazing sunlight. Those bright green eyes always catch me off guard.

Lancelot’s eyes looking back at me with adoration. I have to keep myself together until I finish the song. A song that was meant for Galahad now turns into a love song for the man who stole my heart, captured my soul, and claimed my body. I hadmoved on, but I still feel the pain of Lancelot’s loss deep in my heart, brought to the surface during vulnerable moments like this.

Applause fills the great hall as I end my song. I stand up and bow to the crowd before walking with purpose to Galahad. With no concern for his embarrassment, I scoop him up in my arms. “Happy birthday, my love.” I kiss his head, placing him back down next to Arthur.

“Mama, I’m not a baby anymore.”

“I know, sweet love. You are growing up too fast.”

“When do I get to go on my first quest, father?” Galahad uses that moment, thinking he is now old enough for anything.

Arthur turns to me, a question in his eyes. The fright must have shown on my face, because Arthur turns back to Galahad, explaining that he first must prove himself worthy.

“How do I do that?”

“You will know when it is time. Do not fret if it takes a few more years, my son.”

“How old were you?”

“Oh, well…my childhood years differed greatly from yours. I hope you never have to endure war at such a young age as I had to.”

“What if there is another war? There are still kingdoms that oppose you. They could attack at any moment. I want to be able to fight now. To protect Camelot.”

“Who told you this?” Arthur asks in a hushed tone.

“Cousin Mordred.”

“That fucking bastard!” I say perhaps a smidge too loud.

“Guinevere, hush.” Arthur turns to me with fear in his eyes, as well as disappointment. I quickly shake the anger from my face and take my son’s hand into mine.

“Sorry. Galahad, your cousin is right. There is unrest in the realm. But Mordred likes to dramatize the truth,” I calmly explain.

“What does that mean?” Galahad looks up at both Arthur and me, his little brow furrowed.

“It means we are safe but must be prepared for anything,” Arthur responds, giving me a sideways glance. He dislikes it when I speak harshly, something I have worked on for years. A queen should keep a calm and regal demeanor. Not raise panic and anger. I pledged myself to Arthur and promised to be the queen he needed. It was difficult to become that queen. I guess I was always meant for these shoes though.

Back in the twenty-first century, I was the heir apparent of an earldom, being groomed to become a proper English lady even though I had grown up in New Jersey. I had been unsure of my future, if I had wanted that path, but destiny had thrown me into much bigger shoes. Queen Guinevere. That is who I have become. Fucking Queen Guinevere.

“I’m feeling quite exhausted. I think I’ll head to bed,” I say with a yawn.

“I, too, feel sleep crawling behind my eyes. Let me thank our guests first, then the three of us shall retire together.” Arthur stands up, raising his hands as if conducting an orchestra. The crowd decrescendos immediately. A few seconds later, silence. “My friends, let me give thanks to you all for your kindness toward my son as he enters his seventh year of life. Our little prince will be a grown man soon enough. Your loyalty and faith in our kingdom give us hope for a peaceful future. Please continue to celebrate, drink more ale, and relish the peace we have built together. To Galahad!”

Arthur raises his tankard of ale as the hall repeats his words in drunken unison. Drinking deeply, Arthur finishes a full tankardin just a few gulps. He looks to his people once more, then picks up Galahad and grabs my hand, leading us to the keep.

Galahad continues yelling that he isn’t tired, that he could stay up all night. But he can’t fight his own tiredness for long. Before we reach our apartments, Galahad is asleep over Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur and I tuck him into bed together, taking turns kissing his forehead.

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