Page 30 of The White Enchantress

Though, at the moment, the thought of Josh does not affect me as much as before. Hearing Guinevere sing, sharing her love of music, being surrounded by her melody. Even though I do not understand every word she sings, I know what she is singing about. I can feel it emanating from her body, her soul.

My mother had spoken to me of Guinevere’s concerns about Camelot. Mainly of Arthur. With talent like hers, she would be well-loved at court, not only for bringing the sword of power to their king but for her beautiful music.

Part of me does not want the people at court to know of Guinevere’s enchanting singing voice and skill with the lute. And Arthur will no doubt fall for her in an instant if he does not do so upon seeing her face. How selfish I am to think such a thing. Still, my chest aches at the thought of Arthur or any other man winning Guinevere’s affection.

As her voice becomes breathless on the last note of the song she sings, my stomach flutters and my skin vibrates. Beautiful. She is beautiful.

I want to tell her how lovely her voice is. How captivating her hair is when the light of the setting sun shines off her coppery strands. How the dimple on her cheek sends shockwaves through my chest when she smiles. How her eyes enchant me every time she looks upon my face.

But words are unnecessary at the moment. The silence is comforting for once. We ride side-by-side, smiling into the horizon.

Arthur greets Guinevere with courtliness, offering his hand to help her down from her mount. She looks at me as if asking for my permission to allow Arthur to hold her hand. I give her an encouraging smile with a nod and she takes the hand offered to her. As I had predicted, Arthur is mesmerized by Guinevere. It will not take him long to offer more than just his hand in greeting.

“My lady, Guinevere. How lovely it is to finally meet you.” Arthur places a gentle kiss on Guinevere’s hand. Again, her eyes dart to mine. She looks unsure of herself. A look that turns to discomfort as Arthur tucks her arm through his. “Please, come inside. You must be exhausted from your journey. If you would like to rest, Elaine here will show you to your quarters.”

“Yes, I would very much like to rest my head for a little bit.” Arthur nods to Elaine, who takes Guinevere’s hand and begins walking her inside. Guinevere hesitates again, looking back toward me as I stand stoic, holding the reigns of our horses. “What about La–my belongings?”

“They will be brought up to your room. Though, perhaps you want to carry Excalibur up with you? Lancelot has written to me of the magical connection the two of you have. It will follow you to your room even if no one brings it to you, is that right?”

Guinevere shyly nods. Releasing her hand from Elaine’s, she walks back to where I stand and detaches the sword from its holster on the saddle. She looks up at me before turning back around. “You should get some rest, too. You look more exhausted than I feel,” she says, offering me a brilliant smile. “Will I see you again?”

“Of course, my lady. I will be at the feast later.”

“Cool. I mean, awesome. I mean, I’ll see you then.”

She is the strangest woman I have ever met, yet still, I am drawn to her. As she disappears further into the castle grounds, my eyes remain focused on the spot where she had stood.

Even the ghost of her presence is intoxicating. I must remove her from my mind now that we are in Camelot. Arthur entrusted me to bring Guinevere to his castle. I do not want him to believe that I have taken advantage of his trust.

Nothing happened during the six and a half days we traveled together. Though we had been alone the entire time, there should not be cause for suspicion. Unless I let Arthur see how my chest pounds faster when Guinevere is near. Did Arthur notice how my teeth ground in envy as he took Guinevere’s hand in his? How my soul longs to be near her again, empty and alone without her warmth.

“I trust the journey was uneventful?” Arthur asks, stepping alongside me as I lead the horses to the stables. “You do look quite tired, Lancelot. Did you sleep?”

“I was too worried we would be set upon by thieves or worse. If my letters to you were intercepted, someone would have known of Guinevere and Excalibur, attempted to take them both.”

“But you were not?”

“No. We had not seen another soul until arriving here, at Camelot.”

“Very good. I had been worried as well. I was tempted to send a few more knights to aid you in your endeavor, but I was afraid that would only bring more unwanted attention.”

“Now that she is here, what do you intend to do with the lady?”

“What do you mean by this?”

“Have you thought through every possible scenario?”

“That is what I have you for, Lancelot.” Arthur pats me on the back. “What scenarios have come to mind?”

“Guinevere’s safety. At the gathering, who will be there? Who have you invited? There are many who would murder or worse in order to possess the sword of power.”

“I invited everyone. I want all the kings to bear witness to me accepting Excalibur from The White Enchantress, the lady who brought forth the sword from its watery grave. I want them to know that Merlin’s premonition is true and not just the babbling of an old, crazy man.”

“And what if Guinevere cannot give you the sword?”

“Why would she not?”

“Not ‘would not,’ cannot. The sword has attached itself to her. I have felt the connection myself. What if the sword is unwilling to part from Guinevere? What will you do?”

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