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Annie saw Arthur stride determinedly toward the castle itself, Lancelot keeping pace behind him.
Good luck, she thought as she watched them go, before running to catch up with her Mate. Who welcomed her with open arms and tucked her into his side where she belonged.
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Lancelot watched Arthur from a few feet away as he always did. Keeping guard. Staying vigilant.
The last time they were here, even if they weren’t in this time, they’d been attacked by shadow assassins in the middle of the night.
He couldn’t reach Arthur fast enough. And even though they vanquished their foes, Arthur had been mortally wounded. If he hadn’t been transported to the Celestial Realm and turned to stone, which served to arrest the final stages of death, Lancelot would have lost him forever.
It didn’t bear thinking.
But last night’s dream haunted him, even though he tried to forget it. It was as clear as a memory. He recalled every word.
And so, he kept thinking about how the fake-Lady told him to let Arthur go. That it was the only way to set them both free.
But…
What would Lancelot be without Arthur? What would be his purpose?
Hechoseto serve and protect Arthur, because Arthur was the worthiest man he’d ever known. He couldn’t let him go. He wouldn’t.
Especially not now.After…
He didn’t know whether it was their reckoning or the dream, just that he wasdifferentnow. He felt more, and he liked it.
It was scary too, the new emotions that bombarded him. Greed. Possessiveness. Desire. Affection. Lust.
So muchlust.
Memories of the hilltop came back to him in slices. It was before the Lady’s spell upon him took effect. He’d felt a slew of emotions then too, but not nearly as sharp as he did now.
He was older now. More experienced. He’d endured things. Survived things. Arthur had matured and suffered in similar ways, which made him infinitely more captivating to Lancelot. Less perfect. Flawed and real.
He knew now that what he had with Arthur was unique. Never to be replicated with anyone else. So how could he ever let Arthur go?
Lancelot clenched his jaw.
Hewouldn’t.
He’d rather be a prisoner with Arthur than be free with anyone else.
The King was standing exactly where the she-demon’s secret lair used to be, hidden in the bowels of the castle.
Arthur’s sister, Morgan, a powerful mage, had destroyed the catacomb by melding it into the stone foundation of the castle. It was all buried beneath yards of earth now, crushed to rubble.
But the pained expression on Arthur’s face as he stared down at the ground made it seem as if he could still see the hellish prison as clear as day.
Lancelot saw it too, in his mind’s eye, but he didn’t think the memories affected him the same way they did Arthur. Afterall, he’d been numbed to everything back then. The greater the depravity visited upon him, the more distance there was between his psyche and his body.
He was still numb, to a degree, though he was thawing.
Arthur did not have the same protection. He’d been trapped in his own body, and he couldn’t escape.
“Do you ever wonder what we would have been if she hadn’t come between us?” Arthur murmured, his gaze still fixed upon the ground.
Lancelot answered truthfully, “No. I do not wonder. It is pointless. The past happened as it happened.”
