Page 3 of The White Knight

The surrounding area is unguarded. No one to stop me from running. I can see the village in the distance. The huts are being swept away by the currents of rain and wind. The people are struggling to save their homes and little ones. This rain, it is unforgiving. I should want to walk away and leave them to their destruction. But something inside me cannot turn away.

These folk are so small. Small in stature and mind. I would not wish this kind of death on my greatest enemy. Instead of fleeing, instead of continuing my journey home, I stay.

Chapter 2

Guinevere

Joyous Gard is notthe same without Lancelot’s warm embrace. I can recall the first time I laid eyes on my castle by the sea, as if reliving the memory all over. Lance and I were riding on horseback from Avalon, accompanied by chaperones because Gawain didn’t trust us to be alone together. We had to appear as a properly engaged couple. And in the sixth century, properly engaged couples of honor didn’t touch until they were married under the eyes of God. I didn’t want to be honorable. I wanted to put my hands all over Lance.

How I wished I could just take him to my time, away from the prying eyes and threat of legend. But I behaved. And I let Gaheris and Mairenn shadow my every move while in the presence of Sir Lancelot.

Returning to Joyous Gard after Lance’s death should have destroyed me. But I’ve made it a home for me and my son, Galahad. He is a crazy little three-year-old with hair that doesn’t quite know if it’s ginger, brown, or blond. His bright green eyes are a constant reminder of who this little boy is. Every time Galahad looks at me, I’m filled with love and sorrow all at once.His gaze always surprises me. It’s overwhelming how much I love this little boy. I don’t know where all this love came from.

Every time my heart shatters, it’s rebuilt to carry more love than it did before. This sweet little boy of mine is a treasure. Not only to me, but to Arthur and his kingdom. Arthur comes to visit us here when we are not at Camelot. I know he still wants to marry me, but I cannot. I’m not ready yet. I’m still hoping that somehow Lance survived. That he is out there somewhere, fighting his way back home. To us.

My heart refuses to believe he is gone. Perhaps this is only my grief keeping me from healing. Latching on to the memory of him, the reminder of his touch, the feel of his soul melding to mine. Or perhaps it’s fear. Fear that if Lance is still alive, and I am married to Arthur, destiny wins.

Even though I rejected Arthur’s proposal, I still couldn’t abandon him again. So I agreed I would marry him if Lancelot doesn’t return in five years. I don’t know where my heart will be then. I don’t know if I will ever be ready to say goodbye to Lance. And I don’t know if the story of Arthur, Guinevere, and Lancelot is over yet.

Elnaril said that I’m still writing my story. I will try to keep true to my word. I know Arthur will give me all the time I need. Still, Arthur needs a queen. And not just a queen, an heir. A son who will inherit his throne and keep his legacy alive, which is why I have given him Galahad.

For years, we have allowed a rumor to spread. A rumor that Galahad is Arthur’s son. It breaks my heart that the realm believes Lancelot’s son to be Arthur’s. But this lie, this rumor, has helped Arthur regain the loyalty of those who were upset by my sudden “departure” and marriage to Sir Lancelot.

Arthur’s visits to Joyous Gard keep that rumor alive. I’m sure the court at Camelot turns into a hive of gossip while he is here, all of them wondering when he will return with me as his wifeand queen. At the same time, Arthur enjoys the reprieve from court life. He loves being here with us. He loves Galahad. That much is not a rumor. Though this rumor has been accepted by most in the realm, Arthur’s nephew, Mordred, doesn’t believe the lie.

I had warned Arthur about Mordred years ago. Told him that Mordred would be the one to turn his sword against Arthur and deal the fatal blow. That future has likely changed with Lancelot’s death. Still, I can’t help but believe that Mordred will find another excuse to murder his uncle. I have spent little time in Camelot in the past four years, mainly because I despise Mordred.

After our brief visit to Avalon, I returned to Camelot with Arthur. At the time, I was halfway through my first trimester; at least that is what I had guessed. Though I wasn’t showing yet, my nausea made it obvious I was with child.

Elaine, of all people, had befriended me during this time. She was always kind to me. I had no reason to hate Elaine except for the fact that she was in love with Lance. It was jealousy and nothing more. But at my lowest, Elaine of Astolat showed me kindness while everyone else kept their distance, believing I had run off and abandoned Arthur to be with Lancelot. She knew the actual story. She was there at our wedding. As much as she hated it.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Lady Guinevere,” Elaine said as she approached me slowly from the entrance of Arthur’s private apartments. I had been hiding away in there for weeks, unable to face anyone at Camelot without bursting into tears. She hesitated at the arm of the bench I was curled up in, uncertain of my state of mind.

Elaine was the first face I had seen in weeks, besides Arthur and the servants who kept his apartments clean and brought me food. She was the first person to approach me and offersympathy. I was still so weak from my grief, still raw from the loss of my husband. When I locked eyes with Elaine, I cried. She rushed to my side, scooping me up in a surprisingly comforting embrace.

I sobbed into her shoulder until I could breathe again. She was patient. Kind. Motherly, even. “Thank you, Elaine. I really needed a hug like that.”

She pushed out of our embrace to wipe the tears from my face. “You are most welcome, my lady. I needed a hug myself.”

I smiled, my lips shaking with the foreign movement. “I know we have not gotten along in the past. So it means a lot that you have come here and given me some comfort. I know you love him too.”

“Yes. I was not very good at hiding my obvious feelings for Sir Lancelot. He was an exceptional man. Easy to fall for.”

“Tell me about it,” I sighed, closing my eyes to see his face, an image I imprinted on my eyelids. When I opened them, I caressed my belly. A motion that did not go unnoticed by Elaine.

“There is a rumor going around the castle that you are with child,” Elaine whispered, as if she was afraid someone would overhear. “Is it Sir Lancelot’s or King Arthur’s?”

“What? How could it be Arthur’s?”

“Some say that you came back to Camelot because King Arthur and you, um,” Elaine’s skin turned a deep blush. “They say that you and the king…” She looked helplessly into my eyes, unable to finish the thought on her tongue.

“Oh,” I said plainly, relieving Elaine of the need to say what she couldn’t.

“Sir Lancelot would want you to marry King Arthur, to birth him children. He lived for King Arthur and would do anything for him. If Lancelot knew what would have happened after marrying you, he wouldn’t have done it.”

I scowled at her last comment. “You know nothing about it. Lance and I married to save Arthur.”

“Save him?”

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