Page 9 of The White Knight

“You still have not answered my question. Are you incapable of giving Arthur more children? The kingdom deserves to know.”

“That is no way to talk to your queen, Mordred.” Gawain had snuck up from behind, placing a hand on Mordred’s shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze.

“Hmph. I think it is a fair question, Sir Gawain,” Mordred retorts, throwing Gawain’s hand off him.

“You know it is not a fair question. If King Arthur had heard you speak in this way to the queen, he would have you thrown out of the castle.”

“My uncle would do no such thing.” Mordred is so sure of himself. I want to whip his smugness off with a punch to the nose. I’m rather gifted at breaking noses.

“Is that so?” Gawain asks with his own brand of smug.

“Yes,” Mordred says with complete confidence.

Gawain spins on his heels and heads directly toward Arthur. Though I can feel some nervous tension spewing from Mordred’s direction, he remains confident, head held high. I can see the look on Arthur’s face drastically change when Gawain reaches his ears. Handing his wooden sword to Gawain’s brother and fellow knight, Gaheris, Arthur promises Galahad he will return shortly, then walks in our direction.

“Nephew, what is this I hear of you insulting my wife and queen? Of all days to direct such harsh words. Can you not, for one day, silence yourself? It is your cousin’s birthday.”

“Hmph. My cousin?”

“If you wish to make a scene, I will gladly oblige. Otherwise, I ask you to leave at once. Do not return until you have come to your senses.”

“But uncle, I was—”

“I asked you to leave. Do you wish to make a scene, Mordred?”

“This is outrageous. Uncle, can you not see that Galahad is not your son? You need a legitimate heir.”

“I have a legitimate heir. My son. Whom I adore with all my heart. If you cannot accept him as my son, how can I trust you to follow Galahad when it is time for him to become king?”

“But—”

“Gawain, will you escort my dear nephew back to his quarters?” Turning back to Mordred, Arthur continues, “If you continue to spread these hateful lies against my son and wife, I will have you removed permanently. I love you, Mordred. Do not doubt my love. But you are playing a dangerous game. One I cannot afford to play, and you very well know this.”

At that, Arthur grabs my hand and pulls me to the middle of the training yard where Galahad is swinging around his new wooden sword, attempting to decapitate Gaheris. “I apologize for my nephew. He does not mean what he says.”

“Yes, he does. He absolutely means it. And he knows Galahad isn’t your son. Most of the kingdom has accepted Galahad as their prince, but with Mordred spreading more and more doubt each year, he is weakening your power. He threatens my son every time he speaks. How can you allow him so close to you? Especially after I told you what he will do?”

“It is better to keep your enemies close than to let them plot from afar. Here, I have eyes and ears everywhere. Mordred will not be able to harm you or Galahad.”

“So, you believe Mordred means violence?”

“No. I…he is still my nephew. I cannot believe he would harm my family or me. And Guinevere, you and Galahad are my family.”

“I know, Arthur.” I pull him closer, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“The future could have changed. After all, the circumstances leading to my death will not happen.” Arthur’s body shakes in terror. He knows my story. Where I came from, everything. Like Lancelot, he took the truth well, in all its craziness. There are still moments like this when the truth makes fear crawl just under his skin and down his whole body. I can feel Arthur trying to push those thoughts of his death out of his mind.

“That doesn’t mean we break down our defenses,” I say, staring straight into his dark blue eyes.

“I will never let anything bad happen to either of you.” Arthur’s gaze is piercing as he pulls me to his side. He means what he says, and he needs me to feel it. “We keep no secrets from each other. There will never come a day when you will betray me and I will order your death. There will never be a war over your betrayal. I will never battle Mordred. I might argue with him in an endless battle of words. It is only words thrown at each other, not daggers.”

“And I will never trust Mordred.”

“Nor will I, but he is my nephew. He has not harmed us. I promise, he will never hurt you.”

“I know you will do anything to protect us, Arthur, but you cannot make a promise like that. Never promise me something you cannot control.” I think of Lance. He was full of promises that he would return to me. Promises he couldn’t keep.

Arthur grabs my hand again, giving it a squeeze. “I love you, both of you.”

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