“Would you mind if I escort you?” Lancelot asks, the perfect chivalrous gentleman.

I hesitate, unsure if I should allow myself to be alone with Lancelot. But my head is nodding in affirmation without asking what my brain thinks. Lancelot quickly catches up with my pace. “I would like to apologize for earlier if I offended you or caused you to think that my intentions were not–”

“No,” I stop abruptly and turn toward him. He is so tall, a foot above my five feet four inches, with broad shoulders and a massive chest full of muscle. His brown hair is pulled back into a messy man-bun.Why do I find that sexy?Standing in the last rays of light from the sun make his eyes flash brightly into mine, seeking answers.

“I’m sorry, I was upset because I…,” I can’t tell him the truth, but I need to tell him something. “I miss my boyfriend, um, my betrothed. We were separated when I arrived here. I have no way of finding him. He is lost to me.” Josh wasn’t my boyfriend, but maybe he could have been and I do miss him something fierce.

“Where were you separated? I could organize a search party. I do not have any of my men with me as I arrived alone, though I could gather a troop within a short two days.”

“That is very kind of you, Sir Lancelot,” I say, holding back tears.

“I will leave immediately. Tell me where it was you–”

“No, no. You misunderstood. I thank you for your offer but Josh is lost to me. I will never see him again.” Tears threaten to burst from my eyes. I turn away from Lancelot, looking into the growing darkness surrounding me in a place that shouldn’t exist, in a world unfamiliar but incredibly beautiful.

“When you say he is lost…did your betrothed die? Was he killed? I will find his murderer and bring him to justice.”

“You really are the portrait of chivalry,” I say, stifling a laugh. “Josh is dead, but not by man’s hand.”He hasn’t been born yet.

Taking my hand, Lancelot surrounds it with both of his. “You have my deepest sympathies, my lady.”

At his touch, Excalibur sends a jolt of vibration through me and into Lancelot’s hands. It’s a soft zap, as if she’s telling me that this is where my hands are meant to be. Still, I quickly pull away, hoping Lancelot didn’t feel the energy from the sword or my own heart.

“Would you care to join me for supper? I mean you are escorting me there after all.”

“I would be honored, my lady.”

“Please call me Guinevere.”

“Guinevere. A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” Lancelot’s smile makes my heart flutter and my groin shake in excitement.Stop that!I yell inwardly to myself.This man is off-limits.As if hearing my thoughts, Excalibur sends another jolt through me. This one is harsher, making me bump into Lancelot. He takes that as an opening to wrap my arm through his and proceeds to walk with me down the path toward the savory aromas of whatever medieval food is being cooked for dinner.

“Are you from the northern lands?”

“Scotland? Or, um, what is it called now?” I mutter under my breath, trying to remember my British history. “Caledonia?”

Lancelot nodded. “Your hair, the people of the north are known for their red manes. I have seen Pict warriors painted blue with fiery hair. They are fierce people.”

“My mother was a Pict. I get my hair from her.” It isn’t a lie. My mother was from Scotland. Maybe her ancestors were Picts.

“And what of your father?”

I can’t tell Lancelot who I am or where I really come from. His mother is the Lady of the Lake, but Lancelot is a knight of Camelot. I wonder if they call themselves the knights of the round table. I haven’t bothered to ask about the details of the real King Arthur’s kingdom. Still, his life is in Camelot. He won’t believe me, and if he did, I’m afraid of what he would do with me.

He would surely tell Arthur who would want to know what future awaits him and his kingdom. I’ve read the stories. I’ve seen the film adaptations. But I don’t know the truth of what actually happens here.

I don’t know what compels me to answer Lancelot’s question about my father. I could have easily remained silent, and yet, “My father was…uh…he was a Roman noble,” I lie.

“A Roman and a Pict? An unlikely pair.”

“Yes, very unlikely. My father was one of the last to remain in England after the Romans left. I don’t think there are any more Romans in Britain, are there?”

“If there are, they are no longer Romans.”

I nod, then continue with my lie. “His father, my grandfather, was a Roman legatus. He was one of the few to stay behind, unwilling to admit defeat. My father, Ed…uh…Edmundus was maybe nineteen years old. One day, Edmundus left camp to forage for food as their rations had diminished a few months after themajority of the legion had left for Rome. It was now years later and his father still wasn’t willing to return home. My mother was filling up buckets of water. She nearly killed my father, thinking he was there to rape and murder her.”

I pause for a second to catch my breath.Wow, I am getting really into telling my fake origin story.I had dreamed of a more romantic love story for my parents, one where they got a happy ending. So here’s my chance at making one for them, even if it is a bit fantastical.

“Edmundus didn’t fight back though. He never understood what the Romans were fighting for and never wanted to join the legion. But he was expected to be a military man. That was his only career choice. Vira, my mother, she saw the kind soul within my father. She let him live. Every day they would meet at the stream in secret. A year later, my grandfather died from wounds that wouldn’t heal. The legionaries with them had abandoned my father, but he had already chosen to stay. Vira brought Edmundus home with her, though it took convincing to let him stay and keep his life. He was thrown in the Pict’s prison, spending two years proving himself to the chief and the rest of Vira’s people, being beaten daily, starved, and harassed. Vira would sneak away to his cell whenever she could. But Edmundus could no longer take the beatings and humiliation. He asked my mother to run away with him. They snuck away at night, not knowing where they would go, trusting their love for each other was all they needed. They foundtheir sanctuary in the highlands, tucked away in the woods. A year later, I was born.”