“I won’t go.”
“I’ll throw you over my shoulder if I have to, your grace.”
Exasperated, Gwen clenched her fists at her side, fighting for an iota of control. “You’re dismissed, knight.” Her jaw was so tight it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.
“No.” He stood at the door, hands clasped in front of him, stance wide, but lax.
“I gave you an order, du Lac. Leave.”
She saw a flicker of hurt cross his features, but it only seemed to strengthen his resolve. “I will not let you out of my sight, my queen.Thatwas my order.”
“Oh, now you answer to him.” She snapped, still trembling. “Fine. If you won’t leave, I’ll help myself to breakfast.”
“Guinevere.”
She didn’t look at him, broke away from his scrutiny as she approached the untouched tray.
Was the rest of it poisoned, too?
Slowly, she reached for the honeyed bread, fingers just about to graze its surface, when his hand locked around her wrist, pulling her backwards. “The only orders I take are ones that protect you, highness.” He growled, grip unrelenting. “Step away from the tray, or I’ll remove you myself.”
“Then remove me, du Lac.” She said through ragged gasps. “My life is no longer my own.”
“Guinevere, please,” He pleaded, voice softening, grip loosening. “Let me keep you safe.”
“I’ve known you for a week, knight.” She spat, yanking her wrist free from his grasp. She moved from the tray. “It’s time we stop pretending this is anything deeper than that.”
And there it was.
She hurt so badly, her heart breaking into pieces inside of her. She wanted someone else to hurt, too.
Lancelot flinched — visibly. Just a twitch of the jaw, the smallest hitch in his breath, but she saw it.Feltit. And gods, it made her sick how satisfied it left her.
“You think I’m pretending?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Guinevere didn’t answer. Maybe it was because she knew shewasn’tpretending. Maybe it was because a piece of her hoped he wasn’t either.
But it no longer mattered.
“I’ll pack my bag.” She resigned, shoulders falling with the weight of the morning.
Lancelot stood, silent, as she moved about the room in tears. Gathering the things she thought she might need. Truth be told, the only time she travelled had been by carriage. She didn’t knowhowto pack for a moonlit escape.
“Do you have breeches, your grace?” His voice finally broke through the silence that hung heavy in the air.
“No,” she shook her head, refusing to turn to him. “I have dresses I ride in.”
Her guard laughed, and she hated how the sound echoed in her soul. “That might work for a jaunt about town. You’ll be raw and bleeding after a full night of that.” His position finally laxed, “Come.”
The word was gentle, but firm. She turned, brows drawn in irritation even as tears continued to streak her cheeks.
“Where?”
“Just here, my chambers. I’m sure I have extra.”
“Why not go to the armory?”
“Too far, too many eyes.” He opened her door with ease. “I don’t want anyone seeing you. Do you have boots? Your riding boots can suffice. Just… no silk.” He glanced down at her feet with an almost accidental smile.
