Chapter Twenty-Three
“ C ome, Gawain,” Lancelot said, his grin vicious as he stood over me, twirling his wooden sword with ease. “Let us try that again.”
The morose mood he had been in during our trip back to the castle had all but dissipated from the alpha and now he laughed with the rest of the knights as we trained in the grounds to the side of the castle.
My mood, however, had taken a firm dip as I rolled over onto my knees in the dirt and got back onto my feet.
“Must I be your training dummy?” I complained loudly, but still gripped my sword and got back into position.
“Yes,” Lancelot replied simply as he gave his practice sword another irritatingly perfect swing. “Though if there is another who would like to challenge me I shall give you a break, dear Gawain.”
The knights around us grew quiet, none daring to take a beating from the best swordsman in our ranks outside of the king.
I rolled my eyes and gripped the wood handle of my own practice sword even tighter. “I much preferred when you were silent during our journey.”
Lancelot’s grin dropped into a frown at the reminder of the omega that I knew he had been studiously avoiding.
The queen had settled into life at the castle with an ease that impressed everyone around her—the servants, the surrounding villagers, and even picky Andrivete all seemed to feel Guinevere’s pull.
A pull that I was struggling against myself.
Bedivere had told me the day we arrived to give her space to get settled in—though it did not seem to apply to the older alpha seeing as he was her escort everywhere she went.
I wanted to be near her at all times. It was a madness that made my skin itch and my sleep restless as I warred with my loyalty to Arthur and my desire for Guinevere.
Even now if I closed my eyes I could taste the honeysuckle perfume that lingered on her skin—the natural omega musk that must drive Arthur to insanity when he pressed his face into the crook of her neck and—
“You are distracted,” Lancelot said as the edge of a wooden sword flew towards my face.
I barely managed to deflect his attack, our wooden weapons clacking together and echoing off of the high walls of the castle.
Pushing back his blade, I lowered my shoulder and dipped underneath his sword, hitting him in the stomach with the full brunt of my strength.
The air left the other alpha in a whoosh as he hit the ground and rolled quickly onto his knees.
“Yes, Gawain!” someone hooted from the gathered knights. “Teach that braggart how it is done!”
Lancelot, who often held himself apart from the rest of the men, making few friends and even more enemies with his stony personality, glowered over his shoulder at them before hopping to his feet again.
“The gods may be on your side today, Gawain,” he teased, his voice showing no hint of the swirl of anger behind his dark eyes. “But I fear your fortune ends now.”
Then he was coming at me, a determined look on his face.
But before he could reach me, a gruff voice filled the courtyard.
“Lancelot! Gawain!”
Lancelot’s steps halted and he whirled to where Bedivere was standing atop the stone steps that led back into the castle.
The men in the yard stood straighter at the sight of him. Though Bedivere may not have been an active knight of the round table any longer, there was still much respect for the alpha and not a single knight wished to draw his ire.
“Come, his majesty needs to see you,” Bedivere said before turning and disappearing through the doorway and back into the castle again.
“Agravaine,” Lancelot called to my older brother who had been busily ignoring the sparring in the center of the courtyard and was instead carving arrows on one of the benches. “Get the men moving on drills.”
A chorus of groans followed me up the steps, doing little to quell my nerves.
What could Arthur possibly want of us now?
“You will court my wife,” Arthur said without preamble once we were all standing together in his study.
He had barely looked up from the papers he was reading. He stamped them with his seal before handing them up to Bedivere who seemed unperturbed by the king’s words as he added the paper to the ever-growing stack on the right side of his desk.
“Pardon?” the word rippled out of my mouth, sounding decidedly squeaky as I gawked at the man.
“You will court my wife,” Arthur repeated again, more slowly this time as if I was daft.
“Have you gone mad?” Lancelot’s voice was sharp as his expression turned thunderous.
“Watch yourself, Lancelot,” Bedivere warned with a growl.
Lancelot rounded on the older alpha. “And you are accepting of this? This sharing of an omega?”
“It does not matter what I think,” Bedivere replied, his silver eyes pinning Lancelot in place. “This is what the gods have fated and our king has ordered.”
“And what I have dreamt,” Arthur finished for Bedivere gravely, finally looking us in the face. I half-expected to find anger in the depths of the king’s eyes, but all I found was an odd sort of acceptance that sat oddly in my chest.
“You have had another dream?” Lancelot asked, all of the fight seeming to drain out of him as he sank down into one of the plush armchairs and scrubbed a hand over his face.
Arthur nodded. “I have.”
We all knew the meaning behind such a thing. While Merlin’s visions from the gods were all based around misty, mysterious fate, Arthur’s were based around a solid future.
“What was in it?” I asked, curious despite myself.
Arthur’s expression hardened and he shook his head once, his shoulders stiffening. “I dare not say it out loud.”
It must have been a terrible dream for Arthur to be so quiet.
“But I must tell you that it is imperative that we come together as a pack—not just for Guinevere’s sake but also for everything we have built here in Camelot.”
“How can so much of our future hinge on one woman?” Lancelot cut in, his dark eyes bouncing between the three other alphas in the room.
“Because,” a voice came from the door. “Guinevere is an omega out of time—her very existence is the root of so many other lifelines that if we do not, we will all fall.”
I jumped to find Merlin entering the study, his deep blue tunic and robes whipping behind him as if by some unnatural force because there was no breeze in the room.
He looked stronger than he had the day that they had returned from their journey from Cameliard. His skin no longer looked sallow, nor were there the same deep circles underneath his eyes.
Even his eyes seemed to glow with a renewed unearthly light that was brighter than I could ever remember seeing it before during the few times I had seen him before he disappeared.
“Where is my wife?” Arthur asked, moving to stand.
Merlin waved a hand and the door shut behind him with a thud . “She is with Lady Andrivete bathing after our lesson.”
Arthur’s expression brightened a bit and he leaned back in his seat. “How is her magic coming along?”
I froze at the reveal of that information—information that he had purposefully shared with us to gauge our reaction. Lancelot seemed to be just as surprised as I was, though Bedivere seemed unfazed as always so I could not tell what he was thinking.
“Then I was correct in thinking that all of the rain around her was odd,” Lancelot gasped before glaring at Bedivere. “You had me believing myself to be insane.”
Bedivere shrugged one shoulder, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a wry smile. “She is not of this time, Lancelot, I feel as if it should be quite obvious that she should possess some sort of magical ability.”
“I take it we are finally giving in to the pack then?” Merlin asked with a satisfied huff as he approached Arthur’s desk. “ Excellent , what brought this change on then, Arthur?”
“I had a dream,” Arthur answered, making the wizard fumble his steps as he stared at the king with wide green eyes.
Merlin glanced over his shoulder at me and then to Lancelot before leaning over to whisper something to Arthur that I could not hear.
Then he straightened, his expression bright again. “So, who will be courting our lovely queen first?”
“This is an episode of the Bachelorette ,” Guinevere said as she stood with her hands on her hips and glared at the five of us. “I can’t just go on dates and, whoops , suddenly a pack forms.”
“Dates?” I asked.
“ Bachelorette ?” Bedivere asked at the same time.
Lancelot remained silent from where he was still standing against the wall whilst Arthur revealed his plan to form the first ever pack in Logres.
The king wanted us to become Guinevere’s rotating guards, effectively pulling us from our typical daily duties. In his mind this would allow us time to learn about Guinevere and for her to learn about us without letting on to the rest of the people of Camelot what was actually happening.
And it was taking every piece of my soul not to wiggle like an overly excited pup at the prospect.
Guinevere rolled her eyes at our queries—likely tired of having to explain things from the future that we would most certainly never understand. “You can use your context clues to figure it out. Why are we suddenly going so fast with this, Arthur? Is this about your dream last night?”
I wanted to ask her what a context clue was, but quickly decided against it fearing she would scold me again.
Arthur nodded, his face suddenly grave. “It is.”
Guinevere hurried across the study, her scent filling the air and making my spine straighten as I fought the urge to follow her nose-first, until she stood in front of Arthur who deftly pulled her into his lap.
There was a soft intimacy between them now that had not existed during their wedding ceremony. It was as if things were being said between them that no one else in the room was privy to and when Guinevere lifted a hand to the silvery bond mark that belonged to Arthur, I understood that they were communicating—but with their feelings.
I looked on with a mixed sense of fascination, envy, and anticipation. It was surreal to be so close to Guinevere again and I half-believed that I was dreaming as I watched the pair exchange a look before Guinevere leaned in to talk quietly into Arthur’s ear.
“Apologies,” Lancelot said and stood abruptly, his expression twisted and almost pained. “But the men are waiting for me in the training yard.”
Lancelot turned to hurry out of the study, not sparing a glance in our direction.
“Lancelot,” Arthur growled, echoing slightly of the alpha bark that we so rarely had to use anymore.
But Guinevere stopped him, pressing a hand into his chest and shooting him a look that most likely saved the fleeing alpha from a tongue lashing.
“You promised to let me do this my way,” she told him softly.
Arthur looked as if he wished to argue, but instead pulled the omega in for a tight embrace, his eyes finding me over her head.
“Gawain, do you have any reservations? Or do you wish to stomp out of here like a petulant child as well?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, your majesty.”
Arthur sighed, seemingly relieved by my words. “Very well, I suppose this merry band shall begin with you, then.”
There was a long silence before I fully understood his words and what they meant.
Guinevere turned to look at me with a shy expression, her cheeks turning pink before she turned away.
“Gods,” I muttered, wondering just what I had waded waist deep into with this and whether or not it would all come crashing down around us.