Page 28 of The White Enchantress

“We will soon be in Camelot. The beds are comfortable. I promise you will be able to get a full night’s sleep and regain your strength. If you need to relieve yourself, we can make a brief stop. There is a river just over there where we can water our horses as well.”

“Wait, did you read my mind or did I say all that out loud?”

Lancelot smiles, letting out a short chuckle. “What does ‘horny’ mean?”

I roll my eyes, completely mortified. I am not about to explain what horny means to Lancelot, but my red face only fuels his curiosity.

“I can guess what the meaning might be, especially since you mentioned missing your man.” Lancelot at least has the decency to look away. I hop off my horse when we reach our destination.Lancelot then grabs the reins, steering both our horses over to where a stream peeks out from a grove of trees. Without further comment, I turn toward the trees as Lancelot pulls the horses over for a refreshment.

I am exhausted from spending four days on horseback and three nights sleeping on a cold, hard floor, worried that a wolf or thieving murderers would sneak up on us in our sleep. Now that Lancelot knows my very intimate needs, I don’t know how I can spend another night alone with him. I need to be more careful and keep my thoughts to myself.

After three days of roughing it, I have gotten pretty good at squat peeing in a dress. Peeing outside was not something I was uncomfortable with before. I camped quite often during my college years. But I also had certain supplies to make it a little easier to go to the bathroom in nature.

As I shake myself off, I hear a rustling behind me. I am facing toward the direction where Lancelot and the horses are resting by the stream. One, to make sure Lancelot doesn’t walk in on me and two, to remember which direction to walk back to.

The rustling sound becomes louder, and it doesn’t sound human. I’m more afraid that it’s a wild animal. I can at least attempt to defend myself against a man. A wolf, or worse, I am helpless. I slowly turn around, peeking around the tree I had squatted under. The cause of the sound is not a human, wolf, or any other violent, wild animal. It is a horse-like creature. Its fur glistens even though the canopy of the trees hides the sunlight above.

White, or no, silver is the color of its hide. And on its head, a straight pointed horn. I must be dreaming or perhaps I have gone crazy. A unicorn. I am looking at a unicorn.Maybe I really have gone insane. Am I still in the England of my future? Did I hit my head when I fell in the mists?I start to doubt my reality. How had I quickly accepted that I am 1500 years in the past, but I can’t believe I am looking at a unicorn?

I feel someone grab me from behind. A hand quickly clasps against my mouth as I try to scream while the other hand pulls me tighter against a hard body to keep me from struggling. Turning my head slightly, I look into soft eyes the color of the sea, pleading with me to stay calm. I halt my squirming.

Lancelot had taken me in his arms so suddenly that I forget to suppress my feelings for him. I feel safe with his arms around my waist. There is a familiarity about him. I feel as if I’d known this man my whole life. As I look up into his bright green eyes, a flood of emotions escapes the black pit I had banished them to. I am in so much fucking trouble.

Chapter 15

Lancelot

As I lean againsta tree, watching the horses drink the glistening water from the stream, I feel something pull me toward where Guinevere had gone. Something is amiss. It does not feel as if the lady is in trouble per se, only that there is a presence of panic. I run into the grove of trees, following the pull from an unknown entity.

Guinevere stands next to a tree. In front of her is a unicorn. Though it seems calm, I am afraid she will attempt to approach the creature.

Unicorns are docile creatures by nature, though in recent years, they have become aggressive. Their population is under threat. It is as if they know how few of them are left in the world and know it is because of humans. This unicorn does not seem too perturbed by the presence of two humans. Still, I approach Guinevere from behind, careful not to make any sudden movements.

Not wanting her to scream from freight, I quickly place a hand over her mouth and wrap an arm around her waist. As I predicted, she is frightened by my sudden presence and attempts to fight me.

One look into my face calms her down, and she falls against my body, fitting perfectly under the crook of my neck. I release my hand from her mouth, though I keep my arms in place around her waist, not ready to let her go. We have not been this close since the day we met when she fell into my arms. As I did then, I feel a warmness overtake my body, growing from my chest down to my pelvis. It continues to spread, consuming me. It is comforting. I feel at home.

Guinevere looks up at me again after admiring the creature in front of us. “Is that a real unicorn? I’m not seeing things, am I?”

“Yes. It is real. Have you never seen one before? They are a rare sight to behold but not uncommon. At least there used to be many more sightings of them until King Claudas proclaimed that their hide was made of pure silver and gold and if you drank from their horns you would be impervious to poison. I do not know any of that to be true, but the folk began hunting unicorns without remorse. Now there are so few left, I never thought I would see one again.”

“Humans are horrid creatures,” Guin scoffs.

This statement makes me laugh. “Yes. We are.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to say that you are horrid. You are one of the exceptions.”

“Am I?”

Guinevere blushes. Turning away from me to glance at the unicorn once more. “We should leave it be. I don’t want it to think thatwe mean any harm. Poor thing. All alone.” Her words are heavy, filled with emotions left unsaid.

“It would have already made a move on us if it was frightened. It is said that those with a pure soul have a calming effect on these creatures. Virgins, and such. Unicorns are drawn to them.”

Turning around to face me, my hand now positioned on Guinevere’s lower back, she speaks in a gritty whisper, “Are you the pure one? Because I sure am not.”

Her eyes lock on mine as her chest presses against my ribcage. And the rest of her body gently grazes against my hips, my thighs. The warmth I had felt earlier is now burning my insides, engulfing me in flames. I want to surrender to the fire, let it consume me. Looking into Guinevere’s eyes, I can see the same desire coursing through my veins, but I also see something else. Fear, anger, loneliness.

She is fighting an inner battle too. Though I do not know what she is fighting, I can only guess. I feel the invisible rope that is pulling us together. If I am afraid of this pull, Guinevere must be terrified. She has been through so much, lost so many people in her life. The loss of her man seems to be a fresh pain, the grief suffocating. And here I am, holding her tight against my body, hoping she will throw herself in the fire with me.

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