Page 23 of The White Enchantress

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to,” Guinevere looks down into her bowl of stew as she says this. “Everyone here is afraid of me, except for your mother and Morgana.”

“What do you mean afraid of you? They are in awe of you. The White Enchantress, wielder of Excalibur. I read Morgana’s account of how you shot out of the lake, the sword shrouding you in white light. The priestesses are only shy, awestruck in your existence.”

“No, that’s just silly. I’m–”

“Mairenn,” I call across the table to a young novice whose face goes pale at being called upon. “Would you be kind enough to make a sheath and holster for Guinevere so that she may safely carry Excalibur with her?”

Fright turns to exhilaration on Mairenn’s face. “Sir Lancelot, I would be honored. That is, if you wish me to make these for you, my lady.”

Guinevere is taken aback, astonished by Mairenn’s kindness. I notice a hint of rose rising on the lady’s cheeks. Perhaps I have embarrassed Guinevere, but I had only meant to show her that she is a welcomed guest here in Avalon.

“Yes, Mairenn, that would be wonderful,” Guinevere answers enthusiastically.

“You honor me. I will begin this very minute.” Mairenn stands up quickly to leave the dining hall and start making the accessories for Guinevere.

“No, no, Mairenn,” Guinevere yells after her. Mairenn turns around to me, expecting an order, then back toward the lady. “Please finish your meal. I don’t need it this very second.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely,” Guinevere says with a warm smile.

After dinner, I walk Guinevere back to her room. Even though I can feel a rope pulling us together, I keep my distance from her as she keeps from me. There are questions in her eyes. And I have many questions of my own I wish to ask her.

“Good night,” she whispers as she opens the door to her room. She hesitates before disappearing behind the door. And I can feel her eyes on mine. I tilt my head in question, wanting to know what she is thinking.

Instead, I say, “Good night, Guinevere,” and continue walking down the hall. Thoughts of what I want to do to her body swim through my mind.

Arthur sent me to Avalon to investigate the accounts of Guinevere’s arrival, bringing Excalibur out of its deep hiding place. It takes me days to send a letter affirming the events to be accurate, knowing that Arthur would order me to escort the lady and sword back to Camelot. I know I am being selfish. I am afraid that once Guinevere arrives at Camelot and meets Arthur, I will not be able to spend time with her as I can here.

Still, after that first day meeting Guinevere, I have been careful not to make unwelcome appearances where I know she would be. Three days have passed since I bid her good night. We only see each other in passing. Sometimes we eat our meals together, but I keep my distance from her on the bench. When I am not near Guinevere, my dreams and thoughts are constantly fixed on her. I cannot get her out of my mind.

I have seen beautiful women before, loved them intimately even. I was not always the perfect, chivalrous, pious man Arthur expects his knights to be. I was very young when women began to beg for my attention. My love affairs were short-lived though many. But I was honorable in my departure, making certain I did not sire any children. Still, I broke many hearts. Over the years, I have learned to control these basic instincts, ignoring women altogether.

At first, my carnal feelings for Guinevere felt like they came from that same place inside me where my uncontrollable desire takes over my mind and body. Since meeting Guinevere, I have had many shameful visions of us together. Our limbs entwined in passionate lovemaking, my lips on her neck, her breasts, the delicate flesh between her thighs.

But I have also daydreamed of us together, clothed, talking, only talking. I even imagined what it would be like to call Guinevere my wife and have children together. Those thoughts bring sadness to my soul knowing that I will never hold such a place in Guinevere’s heart. Perhaps I should cherish the moments I have with her now. But I am afraid I will only want to dive deeper into those forest-green eyes and never return.

Chapter 12

Guinevere

After that night, afterconfessing my false story to Lancelot, thoughts of him invade every waking moment of my days and every dream my brain orchestrates. He has consumed every inch of my mind. As hard as I try, I cannot turn these thoughts off. Lancelot is a toxin my soul requires. If I do not poison myself with thoughts of his watery green eyes and sweaty, sculpted chest, I would surely die. But too much of the toxin could kill me. Worse of all, it could kill others.

I try to keep myself together, to keep control of this attraction. But it’s a lost cause. Fate will win out and I will fall desperately in love with a man I cannot have.You can have him now. No one is stopping you.I think to myself. Or maybe that was Excalibur. Arthur and I have yet to be introduced. Perhaps I never need to meet Arthur. And if we never meet, Lancelot and I would be free to do as we please.

It makes perfect sense. But it’s a trap. It has to be.

Still, how could I be in love with a man I don’t know? This can’t be real love. And if it is, why would fate be so cruel? Fuck fate. Fuck destiny. My body and mind might betray my heart, but I will not let anything stop me from returning home.

Home. I had lost my home before. When my mother died and when I thought my father would disown me. But Josh was also my home. A home I didn’t think I had until time stole me away, dropping me 1500 years into the past.

“Lancelot has received a letter from King Arthur.” I turn my head toward Vivienne as she clears her throat. She summoned me to her quarters by way of Morgana a few minutes ago and I came running, hoping she would have news about how I could return home. I had been in my new spot, sitting on the steps of the ancient temple playing the lute I sort of stole.

Vivienne continues with her announcement. “He wishes to meet you and to see Excalibur. You will go to Camelot and present him with the sword.”

“Wait, what? No! I can’t go to Camelot.”

“And why not?”

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