Page 65 of The White Knight

I shake my head. “No traveling, I told—”

“I’m not talking about time traveling. I can move my body from one place to the other. I just need to know where I’m going.”

I squint my eyes at Galahad with suspicion. “And what else can you do that I don’t know of?”

“During the three years I was…away, Merlin and I tested my abilities.”

“So you can teleport.” My voice shakes, but not in fear. I wonder if I would have been able to do all these things had Excalibur remained inside me. I wouldn’t know what to do with such power.

Galahad nods. “I can also see things. I’ve been able to move things with my mind. Conjuring Excalibur is as easy as snappingmy fingers now. I don’t need to feel threatened. And I believe I could travel to the future. I haven’t tried it yet, but I have mastered traveling in both time and space. I’m just not sure I can travel with others, but I have to try.”

“You are incredible. Do you know that?” Galahad turns his face away from me as if he is ashamed by my compliment. Gently, I place my hands on his cheeks and force him to look up at me. “There was nothing you could have done at Camelot. That is how the story has been…or rather will be told.”

“But Gaheris—”

“I know. All we can do now is save your dad and hope that your father will not go to battle against Mordred.”

Galahad pushes his shoulders back, regaining his strength and confidence. “Then let’s go!”

We sprint toward Vivienne’s quarters in the dormitory building as the sun peeks from behind the trees. It’s a strangely warm morning. The short run to the compound has me breaking into a sweat. The priestesses clumsily scatter to make a path for us as we weave through their morning procession.

The door to Vivienne’s room opens as we approach. Of course she knew we were coming. Morgana is inside waiting for us as well. “You have had the vision too?” Vivienne asks. “We need to search for him. I do not know how much longer he has. He did not look well.”

Vivienne’s usual sun-kissed skin fades to a pale gray at the thought of her son dying. She has lived through the grief of his death already; we both have. I do not plan to let that happen again. As if reading my thoughts, Galahad gives my hand a squeeze. “I will not let my dad die. We will find him and I will bring him home.”

Vivienne and Morgana don’t wait for an explanation. They sit down on the floor, crossing their legs and holding their hands out to me and Galahad. We join hands, making a circle on thefloor in front of the fireplace. I don’t question myself as to what I can bring to this little seance. I just close my eyes, block out everything around me, and search for the other half of my soul.

Memories of Lance invade my mind. Our meet-cute at the lake, our awkward mealtimes together, the silent ride to Camelot, the slow fall of my love for him, growing deeper and deeper inside my heart. I let all my memories swim around me as I reach out, searching for him. Cold tears stream down my cheeks as I hear his voice. “Guin, my love. I am sorry.”

“There,” Galahad breaks the silence. Before I can open my eyes, he is gone in a flash of white light.

“Wh-what just happened?” Another flash of light appears. Galahad collapses to his knees with Lance in his arms. “Lance!” I rush to my guys, both of them covered in blood. Bruises decorate Lance’s face, but he is still the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. A smile opens a gash on his cheek as his eyes fall on mine. He pulls me to him, crushing our lips together. Something sticky slips through my fingers as I grip his shoulder.

A wince makes me pull away from him, but he won’t let me go. “Lance, you are very badly injured. Please let us take care of you. Once you heal, I promise you can kiss me as much as you need to.”

Lance answers with something between a sigh and a growl as he falls backward. Galahad and I gently lay him down on the floor as Vivienne and Morgana tend to his many wounds. His skin is so pale and cold to the touch. I know he will be all right though. He’s home, and his mother will not let him die. But fear has a way of weaving itself inside hope, tearing it to shreds, making you doubt everything just from a tiny stupid thought. What if…fuck you brain! Stop thinking.

I need to stop thinking. Breathe. Hold Lance’s hand, comfort him. Breathe. I take a wet cloth from the basin Morgana placed on the floor and use it to wipe away the blood, sweat, and mudfrom Lance’s face as I keep his hand in my other. Galahad takes the dagger from his belt and cuts Lance’s shirt, carefully pulling the fabric around the arrows sticking out of his stomach and shoulder. Then he slices into Lance’s pants, around the broken arrow dangling from his thigh.

Morgana grabs a basket of tools from the table, pulling out something that looks like pliers. She snips the arrows, removing the ends with fletching. We work as one, removing each arrow point and soaking up blood from Lance’s wounds. Vivienne applies herbs and medicines as Morgana stitches his skin together. I can’t tell if Lance has passed out or is just sleeping, but he looks calm, at peace. His rising chest is all I can concentrate on. As long as he keeps breathing, so will I.

Chapter 40

Arthur

A day after thefuneral, I am still shaken. So much death and pain has spread through my kingdom in so little time. Just a few weeks ago, we were all happy. Drinking, singing, dancing. It was the most wonderful time I have had in my life. The people banded together under my kingdom for a moment. A beautiful moment when everything was perfect. When I had an intelligent queen, a son full of impossible wonders, and the most loyal chancellor a king could ever hope for.

My kingdom was thriving. The people were captivated. Now they believe me defeated. I am uncertain I have a kingdom any longer. Nearly half of the tournament guests departed, leaving their disappointment and pity behind. Many people showed up for the funeral, most of them to honor Gaheris.

If I am to leave a legacy behind, I would be proud that my legacy would live on through my knights. I might be the mind and body of Camelot, but my knights, they are the heart. They keep us all in line. They protect. They uphold justice. They are the bravest warriors. My knights of the round table, as Guinevere liked to call them.

I laugh to myself at the thought. A laugh that reverberates off the walls in the empty room, reminding me just how alone I am. Tears threaten to break through the barriers I put up inside me. For the past few days, I have mustered every bit of strength to keep my eyes dry and my head up. I did not want to show such defeat in public. They already believe me to be a king who was easily deceived by those closest to him. I will not let them see me cry.

A knock on my door makes my chest clench. Tears have already started streaming down my face, and I have no strength left to pull them back in. I remain silent, hoping whoever it is will leave me and my grief alone. My hope is crushed when another more insistent knock pounds on the door to my apartment. This time, a voice accompanies the knocking. “Arthur. I know you are in there. Please let me in.”

I sigh with relief at hearing Gawain’s voice from the other side. I have wanted to talk to him for days, but nothing I could think of to say would be enough. His eyes told me he knew the truth. But he has kept that truth to himself. I wonder if the rest of the knights know, but I dare not ask. Breathing deeply, I wipe the stray tears from my eyes and rise to open the door.

“Gawain, please come in.” My eyes are stinging from the unshed tears that beg to be released. As if sensing my internal conflict, Gawain simply closes the door behind him and then pulls me into an embrace. A king should never show his weaknesses, not even to his allies. A king should never be coddled, not even at his worst. But I am not a king in this moment. I am a man who has lost his wife, queen, son, brother, and cousin, standing before a man who has lost his brother.

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