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“Come. Let’s see what these new knights are made of. Mayhap we’ll find a few recruits in the process.”
And gods willing, a bloody good fight was just around the corner.
Chapter Two
“Look at everything as though you are seeing it either for the first or last time, then your time on earth will be filled with glory.”
—Betty Smith
Three weeks ago. London Heathrow airport.
“So, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Annie chirped, a spark of excitement alighting her eyes.
“I’ll apologize in advance for dragging you across Britain in the most circuitous, least expedient way possible. I’ve never been here before, so I want to experienceeverything! And I think it’s a great way for you all to learn more about modern society too. There’s no place more alive, more international, yet steeped in history and culture, in my opinion, than London.”
Lancelot could see her bouncing her weight on the balls of her feet in unbridled, joyous eagerness.
He wished he could be that young again. That pure and innocent.
“We’re going to look through Duty Free, even though I’m not planning to waste money on all those uber expensive brands,then have a snack at the food court, then make our way to the Tube, which is what the Brits call their subway system. We’ll take the blue line from Heathrow all the way to Piccadilly Circus—I just love the efficiency!—where we’ll exit and walk a bit to get to the Haymarket Hotel. I can’t wait!”
Since Annie was the only one who could easily navigate the modern world around them, they followed her lead without complaint. As they sat together at a large table in the “food court,” Lancelot took in their surroundings by rote. More to assess the crowded, bustling area for danger rather than out of curiosity as the rest of the group was doing.
While the man he protected could more than take care of himself, it was ingrained within Lancelot to always put Arthur first. To always ensure his safety and vitality. Now, more than ever.
Annie was chattering a mile a minute, basking in her male’s utter and complete concentration on her. Merlin’s eyes never left her face. And when they did, they wandered to her throat or hair, as if he could caress her with his gaze.
Rui and Wolfe were similarly wrapped up in each other, though the treasure dragon was less demonstrative than Annie by far. They still held hands beneath the table, Lancelot knew. And though they didn’t speak much out loud, he could tell that they were conversing intimately in their linked minds as dragon mates.
By contrast, he and Arthur purposely didn’t look at each other. Of course, the comparison itself was flawed, given they weren’t mates. They weren’t even friends.
Not anymore.
But…
When the other man wasn’t aware, Lancelot surreptitiously took him in. As if he couldn’t help himself. As if his eyes were permanently tethered to Arthur’s person.
He saw things no one else could see. From the insignificant to the important. To Lancelot, everything about Arthur was important.
The world at large likely didn’t know it—Arthur was a redhead.
Well, mostly chestnut, like the shiny coat of the steed he used to ride, but with hidden glints of copper and bronze. Like fiery sparks, these bright hues danced on the tips of the king’s thick, spiky eyelashes, the edges of his beard and the curling ends of his wavy hair. He also had more of it in the place only lovers had the privilege of viewing, or when he unabashedly bathed in the rivers or lakes with his men.
Once upon a time, Lancelot had had the privilege too. When they’d been closer than brothers, better than friends.
Another hidden fact was that when Arthur stayed too long beneath the summer sun, very light freckles dusted his cheekbones and shoulders, and the fine hairs covering his skin took on a burnished glow, as if he were made of bronzed gold.
Arthur was a striking man. Lancelot had always thought so, from the very first.
This was no secret, for anyone, man or woman, who looked upon him always looked twice, if not thrice. People gravitated toward him. They wanted to be around him. They listened intently when he spoke in that deep, husky baritone. They were in awe of the easy grace he commanded, the power and control he exuded.
The secret was not that Lancelot found the king striking. It was that he’d never, in the whole of his existence, found anythingelsestriking.
So much so, that he was often rendered speechless, literally struck dumb, in the warrior king’s presence. Only Arthur’s unassuming confidence and ready humor untied Lancelot’s tongue and pulled him back into his natural self.
But that wasbefore.
Now, there were no two people more awkward around each other. He suspected that the life force they shared only made things worse.
