Page 46 of The White Enchantress

His hand meets my cheek full force, causing me to fall to my knees. Melwas throws the plate of food on the ground. With hisright hand, he grabs a fist full of my hair, pulling me back up and slamming me against the tree.

“I will have to teach you manners. First lesson is how to treat your husband and king with respect. If I offer you food, you take it with thanks. If I ask for a kiss, you give it with grace. And if I ask for your cunt–”

I spit in his face, not wanting to hear him talk anymore. I need to stall Melwas somehow. I am out of options though. Tied to a tree, face to face with his disgusting face. I could have pretended politeness, but I hate this man. I loathe him. What gives him the right to claim my body as his?

As he stands back to wipe my spit off his face, I attempt to kick him in his balls. He is fast. Grabbing my foot, he twists it behind me before I even know what has happened.

“Alfred was supposed to tie your legs to the tree. I will have to slit his throat after all.” He pushes up against me, pinning my entire body to the tree. Then he grabs the rope tied to my arms, slinging it over the tree branch and yanking it down so my arms shoot up.

Securing the rope tightly, he moves his hands down my arms, aggressively groping at my breasts, then reaches down to pull my dress up. My legs are still free. I thrash them around, attempting to stop Melwas from accomplishing his harassment of my body. My last line of defense is to close my legs tightly together, with all my strength, not to let him in.

Melwas’ laugh is sinister. He knows he will have his way with me. I am helpless. No one is here to save me. But Lancelot is on his way. I know he is.Where are you?

Melwas takes a small knife from his belt. He grazes it against my thigh, teasing me with pain. Suddenly he cuts deeper. The pain is explosive, distracting me from my defensive position. I loosen my legs for a second, crying out in agony. That’s all he needs to spread them apart and invade my body. My cries become erratic. I scream for Lancelot, for Arthur, for Excalibur, for my father, for Josh, for anyone who would listen.

The only response to my pleas is a searing heat spreading inside me. White light surrounds us. And then it is Melwas screaming in agony. I feel him leave my body as I’m consumed by the warmth of the light.

Chapter 23

Lancelot

Before the sun beginsto set, I can make out a group on horseback less than ten miles away. I cannot tell if Guinevere is among them. I feel her though. The figures become clearer as I draw a little closer, staying along the tree line, hoping the growing darkness hides my pursuit. I count seven horses. One of them, absent a passenger. Another holds two figures. Guinevere must be one of those.

They slow their pace, making their way into the shallow forest. I match their pace, hoping they will not be able to spot me in the dim light of dusk. That is if they have not already noticed me.

When they slip further into the forest, I follow. The trees make it more difficult to keep an eye on the group but I am now close enough to hear the deep tones of masculine voices in the distance. Dismounting, I guide Gringolet through the trees, securing his reins on a nearby branch to keep him out of sight.

My plan is to sneak up on Melwas’ camp and kill as many of the men as I can without being noticed. I walk quickly but quietlytoward the sound of their voices. As the smell of roasting meat begins to touch my nose I know I am close enough to be noticed if I am not careful. At the sight of fire, I think about the rushed plan I had concocted. I have taken on double the numbers that await me in these woods.Will I be so lucky this time?Guinevere is counting on me; I cannot fail her.

I quickly come up with a new plan. Scout the camp, then head back out to the open road for a sign of my fellow knights. This plan is quickly thrown to the ground when I hear a torturous scream. Guinevere.

I draw my sword, running full force toward the source of the scream when a bright white light stops me in my tracks. I fall to the ground, disoriented. Then I hear what sounds like a battle. Swords clashing, men yelling, men dying.How did Gawain arrive before me?I think to myself.

I run. Sword at the ready. Prepared for anything. Wishing with all my heart that my Guinevere is alive and unharmed.

As I approach the camp, the white light begins to dim and the air is suddenly silent. I see her, Guinevere. She is shrouded in light, a sword in her hand. Excalibur. I move toward her, looking for Melwas and his men, ready to fight them.

No one makes an attempt to attack as I get closer. The figures of men I see slumped on the ground are the bodies of the men they once were. I look up at Guinevere and call her name. When she turns around, her eyes are not hers. A look of pure hatred piercesmy eyes. She sees me as an enemy, like the men lying in their own blood before me.

“Guinevere, it is I. Lancelot. Please, my love, see me.” I lay down my sword, which causes Guinevere to halt. She looks up at me, the hate gone from her eyes, replaced with tenderness. “Guinevere, are you still there? Please return to me.”

And there she appears, the bright blue eyes of the being inside her changing into the evergreens that are Guinevere’s. “Lance…”

I run to her as the sword disappears back into her body, the white light with it. She falls into my arms the moment I reach her. “Please tell me you are all right, Guinevere. Talk to me. Please. I am so sorry I left you that night. I wanted so badly to stay.”

“Shhhh. It’s not your fault.” She presses a finger against my lips to silence me, then falls against my chest, unconscious but still breathing. I hold her tightly in my arms, vowing to never let her go. At the sound of horse hooves approaching, I reach for my sword. Realizing I left it where I had been standing, I pick Guinevere up and walk over to retrieve it, readying myself for a fight. As the riders approach the light of the fire, I relax, relieved my fellow knights had followed behind with such speed.

“Sir Lancelot? What the bloody hell happened here?” Gawain jumps off his mount, marching toward where I sit with Guinevere in my arms. “Is she–”

“She is alive. I need to take her to Avalon though.”

“That is a very long way. King Arthur will not be happy.”

“Gawain, she did this. I did not fight one single soul here.”

Gawain gapes at me in disbelief. “What do you mean she did this?”

“Excalibur unleashed itself from Guinevere. The spirit within possessed her body. It fought for Guinevere, saved her.”

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