“You’re a flatterer, Arthur,”
“That’skingto you, my old friend.”
“I’m not knight material,Arthur.”
Her tongue turned to ash in her mouth, limbs suddenly leaden as she stood there, praying that God had sent a cruel trick to her. Praying that she might wake up from a deserved nightmare.
“Very well then, a test, a trial of sorts. To prove that youareknight material.” Gwen wasn’t sure she had ever heard such a lightness in her husband’s voice. “Stick around, old friend. Wouldn’t it be nice to stay in one place?”
The other man,Lancelot, laughed. The sound of it filled her very bones with a feeling of delight.
She bit down on her tongue, forcing such thoughts out of her head.She was the queen, not a schoolgirl, not a woman with a dowry. Guinevere chided herself.
“I’ll take your test, fool, but this is not a promise of permanency. I go where I please. Perhaps Camelot can please me, for now.” Arthur gripped the man on the arm, turning him to face…
Her.
The dark-haired man let out a low whistle as their eyes met briefly. Her eyes darted to her husband, praying that he couldn’t hear her rapid heartbeat from where they stood. “She’s quite the pretty dove, your highness.” The knight-to-be mentioned, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“My queen, Lancelot — Guinevere.” Arthur held his hand out, beckoning for her to come closer.
Did he know?
Wasthisher punishment?
“My darling, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to a man I have known for longer than I have known myself. Lancelot du Lac, vagabond and troublemaker.” Arthur took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips with a gentle kiss.
“You honor us with your presence, sir,” Gwen muttered, avoiding looking at him at all costs. Even with a mask on, she would recognize that smirk, the arrogance in his eyes, anywhere.
Even after just one night, he had left such an imprint on her very being, she couldn’t shake him. “Ever the dutiful queen,” her husband murmured, cutting his eyes slightly in her direction.
Arthur’s hands were on her waist, dragging her to him. “She is said to be the most beautiful woman in the world, du Lac.” Brushing her hair off of her neck, he placed a less-than-chaste kiss to the skin of her throat, nipping gently.
Her breathing hitched, a gentle blush fluttering across her cheeks. As her husband’s hands travelled inappropriately across her curves, she stole a glance at Lancelot. He stood, watching through hooded eyes.
He quirked an eyebrow.
A question for her alone.
Arthur pinched her chin in his fingers, turning her to face him fully. His mouth descended on her roughly, giving her no choice. Gwen balled her hands into fists at her side as her husband’s hand moved into her hair, easily undoing her maid’s hard work.
She stifled a gasp when his tongue forced its way into her mouth, leaving decorum on the floor as he claimed her in front of his guest. His hand moved down her side, clutching roughly at her hip.
“My King,” she breathed against his lips, desperately trying to break free of the ironclad grasp he had on her. She felt tears burn behind her eyes.
Never had she felt more humiliated than at this very moment. With her husband,the king, using her in the middle of his court.
He pulled away, panting. He had a pleased look in his eyes, entirely too happy with himself. “My wife,” He started, narrowing his eyes as he watched her. “Has a tendency to… disobey.”
If her face had been flushed before, she was certain it was redder than her own hair, now. Her heart was in her stomach. She bit her lip to keep her tears at bay.
“You married a redhead, brother.” Lancelot cut in, but therewasn’t nearly the mirth in his voice that had been present before. “Did you expect utter compliance?”
“Iexpectedcompliance to her king, old friend.” His voice was sharp, perhaps even cruel.
Gwen wanted to run, to hide away.
“What does your poor wife have to do with me, you old bastard?” Lancelot asked, rolling his head to look at Arthur.
