Page 52 of The White Knight

Guinevere

I can’t find Galahadanywhere. He could have gotten distracted with the castle so full of people and tournament events happening every hour. But it is not like him to miss our jam sessions. We’ve been playing music together more and more since the tournament began. The audience loved our concert and requested many encores. I am constantly amazed at how brilliant my son is and how quickly he picks up everything he tries. He even taught me a few things on the lute.

Granted, I taught myself how to play this thing. I stare down at the lute in my hands. A new one Arthur gifted to me after Mordred smashed my other one. The body is a light-colored wood, delicately inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Expensive but beautiful. It might look like a guitar, but the extra strings took some getting used to.

A wave of nausea hits me as I swing my lute behind my back, the soft leather strap gliding over my shoulder. I’m perhaps two months into my pregnancy. Thankfully, I am not getting as nauseous as I did with Galahad. Like clockwork, I’d vomit first thing each morning and then again before dinner, and abouttwenty times in between. This time, I only get a little queasy with occasional barf sessions.

Lance is having a tough time containing his affection and devotion for me. He didn’t get to play his part as the terrified and eager dad when I was pregnant with Galahad. Now Lance has to hide his joy. Since he participates in nearly all the games, we rarely see each other. Which is a good thing. One of us is bound to slip. I know all he wants to do is hold me in his arms and place a hand over my belly. In the evenings, he will not take his hands off me. Not that I’m complaining.

Having his love back in my life is something I only thought possible in my dreams. It’s a love I have wanted all my life. A love I was terrified to feel in my youth. A love that makes you feel alive. To have someone who will always be there, to hold you, to need you, to love you unconditionally. I’ve lived without Lance for most of my life. I’ve grieved losing him. I’ve spent too long yearning for him. He is mine. I am never giving him up.

After weaving through the crowds of people coursing through Camelot, I lean against a tree at the entrance to my garden. Well, it’s not really my garden, but it might as well be with how often I come here. Galahad was meant to meet me here two hours ago.Where is he?Another wave of nausea hits me, causing me to close my eyes and bow my head.

“Are you praying, your Highness? I did not think you were the godly type.”Ugh.I don’t need to open my eyes to know whose voice that is, but I open them anyway, landing a vicious stare at Mordred. He’s accompanied by his best bud, Maleagent.Great.

I promised Arthur I would behave. I will be the queen he needs me to be. “I am just catching my breath, waiting for my son to arrive.”

“Your son, the chosen one?”

I turn my attention to Maleagent to answer his question. “Yes.”

“Arthur had Galahad sent to his rooms. I think he is realizing just how much Galahad looks like his father.” Mordred’s smile needs to be removed. I am a queen full of grace. And there are witnesses.

“He’s always looked like Arthur. Why would that be a reason to send him to his rooms during the tournament? Did something happen?”

Maleagent takes a step toward me. “Theprincelooked a bit...different. Something has happened, but we are unsure what. Would you like us to escort you to the keep? I would hate to see you rush and exhaust yourself when you are carrying a child within.”

I gasp. “How did you know I’m—“

“I did not know. But now I do.”

Fuck. I should have known he was playing me. That smirk of his needs to be removed. With all my strength, I press my nails into my palms and calm down. “Thank you for the offer of escorting me, but that will not be necessary. Good day to you both.”

“Good day indeed,” Mordred hums.

FUCK!

I am out of breath when I make it to the royal apartments. Loud voices within make my skin crawl with fear. I cannot hear the words they are saying though. Taking a deep breath, I reach for the door and open it. Lance is pacing back and forth in front of the barren fireplace, and Arthur is shouting at…

“Galahad?” I whisper. No, that can’t be my little nine-year-old boy. This boy is much taller than my son.

“Mom,” the boy says as he turns around. His eyes light up as if he hasn’t seen me in ages. My knees buckle. Lance has me in his arms before I hit the ground. He carries me over to a bench, placing me gently beside him. Galahad approaches my stunned glare timidly. As he stands next to Lance, it’s unmistakable. Galahad is Lance’s son. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“What did you do?” My jaw trembles as I look into the face of my son. He looks older. Not just a day older. Years older.

“I know you didn’t want me to travel again. But I had to. I need to learn how to control it in case I ever need to use it.”

“What did you do!” I shout.

“This morning, during my lessons with Merlin, I…” Galahad looks at Arthur, who nods back at him with a stern yet fearful look. “I traveled.”

“How far back did you go this time?” I hold on to Lance’s hand, terrified of what my son will tell me.

“Well…I had been traveling for a while now. Merlin told me not to travel too often or I could wear myself out. So once a month we would practice this magic. When successful, I would travel back a day. Then a week. A month. This last time, three years.”

I close my eyes to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. What Galahad said is fucking terrifying. “Where did you go? All that time, where have you been staying?”

“With Merlin for a bit. Then I went to his caves when he traveled to Joyous Gard with dad and me. I couldn’t come back here and risk running into myself or anyone else who would recognize me when I wasn’t supposed to be at Camelot.”

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