Page 63 of The White Enchantress

As I step from the room I share with Lancelot, Augie is waiting for me. He explains that Arthur had wished to dine with me alone in the guest chambers. The dread I had felt now strangles my heart. But I move forward, allowing Augie to escort me to the king.

“My lady, Guinevere. You are looking as beautiful as ever.” Arthur gently takes my hand in his, brushing his lips over my knuckles in a soft kiss. I curtsy back.

“I doubt that as I feel like shit,” I reply as I take the seat Arthur had offered in the seating area of his guest suite. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Arthur takes a long, deep breath. That is when I notice the bags under his eyes and the redness within. He hasn’t been sleeping lately and it looks as if he’d been crying. My heart stops. I don’t want to hear what he has to say but my ears listen anyway.

“It pains me to bring you this news, my lady.” Arthur pauses, looking away from me to gather his courage. “Lancelot is dead.”

I place a hand over my belly before responding. “What do you mean ‘Lancelot is dead’?”

“The dragon was larger, more fierce than the reports had described. Lancelot was no match for it. Even with the knights who accompanied him. It killed him and then flew off.”

“How did he die? Can I see his body?” I know as I ask that even if there is a body, I would not want to see it. But I need to see with my own eyes to believe that my Lancelot is dead.

“Guine–”

“No! How did he die? Because Lancelot is the White Knight of Camelot. He does not die this way. This is not how it happens.”

“I know it is hard to believe, Guinevere. I, too, refused to accept it. But I have several accounts from trusted knights who saw it happen. He is gone. I am so sorry.”

A scream rips through my body, shaking me to my core. I feel myself unraveling. My heart shatters to bits all over again. I am losing myself as I had when my mother was ripped from my life. This time, I’m unsure if I can piece myself back together.

After my mom died, I had Ed and Josh and even Leo to help stitch me back up.Here?I have no one. I had Lance. The one thing that brought me joy in this place and time. Why did the universe take him from me? What had I done to deserve such cruelty? If we hadn’t married, would he still be alive?

Arthur attempts to console me, but I push him away, falling to the floor. “Get the fuck out!”

“Guinevere, please, I know–”

“I said get out! Leave!”

“No. I will not leave you in such distress in your condition. You must calm down.”

“Condition?”

“You are with child.”

“News sure does travel fast in a castle.”

“I promise you will want for nothing. We can be wed within a fortnight. I will take care of you and the babe growing in your womb as my own.”

“What!” I scream, throwing my head in Arthur’s direction to look him in the eyes. “Did you do this on purpose? Was this your plan all along? To send Lance to his death so you could take me as your wife as you had wanted all along?”

“No, Guinevere. How….how could you even think that of me?”

“How? I am your ticket to world domination. Lance was in your way–”

“No. Lance was my friend, like a little brother. I would never do anything to cause him harm.”

“Then why the fuck did you send him to fight a bloody, fucking dragon?” The rage brewing inside is turning my insides to lava. It rushes out of me in a violent stream of terror. A scream explodes from my core again, releasing steam. I can’t be around this man any longer. Even in this state of rage-fueled grief, I know I need to walk away before saying or doing anything I would later regret. “If you won’t leave, then I will.”

I sprint from the room, avoiding anyone who stands in the path leading back to my bedroom. To the lonely bed that would remain lonely for the rest of my life. For I know I will never marry again. I would not let Arthur win.

A voice inside tells me I am wrong. Excalibur, trying to coax reason into my brain. I ignore her. Reason has no place in a world where love has no power.

My anger recedes somewhat as I reach my bedroom door, but the pain consumes me from head to toe. My whole body aches with grief. It yearns for Lance. For his touch. For his breath against my skin. For his laughter. Just to see his face one more time.

I run to my leather bag, remembering I had taken photos and a video of Lance. As I fall back into bed, I turn my phone on, kick my shoes off and slip under the covers. In my haste, I draw the wrong pattern on the lock screen but enter it correctly on the second attempt.

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