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Across the fire, Guinevere was rising to her feet. “I think I’ll lie down. Morgan...” She gave me a questioning look.
“Rest, Guinevere,” I said firmly. “There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep after that. One of us should get some rest tonight.”
To my surprise, Draven rose and escorted Guinevere to her tent, making sure she was safe inside before walking over to our own. Then, crouching by the tent flap, he gave me a meaningful look and darted his eyes towards Lancelet before slipping inside.
Hawl was the next to leave. “I shall dream of blood and snapping bones,” they said, sounding happier than they had all week. “A satisfying battle.”
“Delightful,” Lancelet muttered as the Bearkin stomped away. “I’ll be dreaming of that crunch the rest of my days, too.”
She threw another log onto the fire, and sparks flew upwards. “Guess it’s just us then.”
I walked over to my saddlebag and pulled out a silver flask. “Gawain’s not the only one prepared. It’s not Mermaid Song, but want some?”
“What is it?” Lancelet asked, perking up.
“Try it and find out,” I suggested, taking a swing myself.
She tipped the flask back for a long swallow then immediately started to cough. “Whisky!” She shot me an accusing look. “Disgusting, Morgan. Whisky? Really?”
“Draven’s developed a taste for it.” I preferred spiced rum. There was a clove and orange one from Lyonesse I particularly loved. But even I had to admit there was something about the way whisky flowed through one like molten lava that could be rather bracing.
She passed back the flask. “My throat is on fire. What I wouldn’t give for a tankard of ale from The Bear and Mermaid right now.”
“Perhaps more liquid courage is just what you need,” I said, holding the flask out towards her again with a meaningful look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means Guinevere is sleeping alone.”
“Of course she is. She always does. So what?”
“So perhaps she doesn’t have to.” I was hesitant as to how far to go, how blatant to be.
Lancelet stared. “She was just attacked by a bandit.”
I sighed. “We’re always going to have just been attacked by something or other, Lancelet. Look where we are. Look where we’re headed. Do you think things are really going to improve from here on out?”
Lancelet snorted. “I suppose that’s true.”
“It is. So seize the moment.”
“Seize the moment?” Lancelet laughed. “That doesn’t sound like the Morgan I used to know. At least, not when it comes to taking lovers.”
“I’ve changed,” I said, blushing slightly.
Lancelet looked at me thoughtfully. “You certainly have. And it’s Draven who did it.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I asked, not sure I was ready for the answer.
“No. He’s been good for you. The two of you...” She shook her head and looked up at the moon.
“What? Tell me.”
“The two of you are equal parts disgusting and inspiring.”
I choked. “Disgusting?”
“Disgustingly in love, Morgan. Oh, you’re not all over each other constantly. Thank the Three for that. But the looks you give one another. The little touches—when I catch them. The way you talk about one another. The way he shields you.”
