Page 20 of The White Enchantress

Strolling along the path, I stopped still when I heard the most enchanting sound. A boy my age sat on one of the park benches, gracefully strumming his soul out on an acoustic guitar. He was looking down at his fingers, his curly black hair pulled back from his face.

I stood there mesmerized, losing myself in his melancholy melody. It took him a while to notice me staring at him with tears running down my face. Instead of ignoring the crazy teenage girl, he called me over to him. This startled me, setting me off, and I began to cry uncontrollably. It dawned on me then that I hadn’t cried since my mother’s funeral. I had been holding back so many tears, so much pain and anger, and it was all spilling out in front of this beautiful stranger.

“Now then, what’s the matter, love?” The boy asked sweetly. His hazel eyes searched my green ones for a sign that I was okay. “Come sit with me a bit. I’ll cheer you right up,” he said in an Irish brogue.

I lost all control of myself, letting this stranger take me in his arms and bring me down onto the bench next to him. He held me gently and let me cry on his shoulder as if we were old friends, and he didn’t release me until I calmed down enough to talk coherently. “You play beautifully, with such passion and intensity. Your musicis ethereal.”

“I’m sorry it made you cry-”

“No, no. It made me feel again. I haven’t been myself lately. Your music, well, it reminded me of my mother and the beauty in this world and just because you lose one beautiful thing in life doesn’t mean you can’t find it elsewhere.”

“Wow, thanks. I mean, I’m just screwing around on my Fender. No one has ever really noticed my music in such a way. I’m Josh.”

Shaking his hand, I replied with my name.

“So, where in America are you from? If I might ask.”

“New Jersey, but I’m actually British, was just born and raised there.”

I hesitated to release any further information about my British background as it had always seemed to stir up instantaneous resentment. With Josh, even though he was a stranger to me, I felt comfortable with him. I knew he wouldn’t look at me any differently after knowing who I was. Still, I resisted giving him any information that would give me away. Instead, I went on a rant about my evil stepmom and half-sister. How earlier that day, Cecily and her friends had recruited my classmates to ask me questions about my mom.How much did she make as a whore? How did she convince my father that I was really his? Did I see her mangled body as she was dying?

“Have you told anyone about this?” Josh asked, concern woven in his voice.

“No. It would only make things worse with Cecily at school and home.”

“Guin, this kind of bullying will only get worse if you keep letting it happen. You need to report it or at least tell your father.”

“I just don’t want to put a bigger rift between us all.”

“I get that. You are in a tricky situation, and it’s likely not going to get better no matter what you do, but please think about it, okay?”

Before I could say anything else, Leo interrupted us. “Lady Guinevere, we must be off as your father will want you ready and dressed for tonight’s dinner.”

“A lady, are you?” Josh asked, his eyebrows crooked with curiosity.

“Yes, the Earl of Lancaster is my father. I hope that won’t change the prospect of our friendship.”

“Absolutely not. I hope our paths may cross again soon.”

“Well, in that case, here’s my number.” I rip off a piece of paper from the small calendar notebook I keep in my blazer pocket and quickly scribble down my phone number. “Call me anytime you need an audience and I will come crying.”

I sing the last phrase of the most relevant Adele song my life has ever known, my voice decrescendoing as the last cord I played on the lute dies down to silence. Tears filled with memories of my best friend are gushing down my cheeks, burning a path of emotional destruction into my skin. I will never see Josh again.

“That was beautiful,” a voice from behind me softly exclaims.

I turn around quickly, startled by the sudden presence of another human. Lancelot. My body shivers in surprise at seeing Lancelotso suddenly, replacing the sadness that was consuming me just moments before. I’m not ready to speak with him yet, but I can’t keep running away whenever he appears. Still, I don’t know what to say, so I remain silent, a little flushed that he had seen me so vulnerable.

Chapter 10

Guinevere

“You have the mostcaptivating voice. Where did you learn to play such music?”

A warm blush spreads across my cheeks at the compliment. I quickly wipe away my tears as Lancelot approaches me. “My best friend taught me how to play guitar. I’ve always been good at singing. Something my mom passed on to me, I guess.”

“You are not good at singing, my lady. You are remarkable.”

I can’t see my face, but I know the shade of red has to be noticeable. Hoping that the shadow of dusk is hiding my embarrassment, I look up at Lancelot as I stand. “That is very nice of you to say. Thank you. Um, I think I’m going to head back now. Dinner has most likely already been served and I am ravenous.”

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