Chapter Twenty-Eight
I stared after Guinevere as she practically ran from my rectory and closed the door with a slam behind her.
She had not even given me a chance to respond to her suggestion before she had pulled out of my mind and fled.
Being yanked out of my conjured world too fast always felt jarring, but now it felt even worse as my emotions seemed to rage within my chest.
I had always prided myself for remaining aloof to the world around me.
My beginning was so different from almost every living creature that it had been easy to just be the mysterious wizard that walked out of the mist fully-formed one day in order to help my king whilst everyone gave me a wide berth.
That had been my purpose in life and why the gods had seen fit to create me in the first place.
Truthfully, it had all been simple for me until the day I climbed into that dratted cave and began to see through the eyes of Juneau and Eleanor. The world in the future was so vibrant and different from the time I lived in—and being able to see and very nearly feel how they fell in love with their packs had changed me irrevocably.
I had no place bearing such thoughts—much less bearing them about the woman who was at the very center of the portent I was trying so hard to breathe life into with a middling level of success.
But even still I could not help but do it regardless of how right or wrong it was. Guinevere’s magic called to mine, even when she was not in the same room as me—and in a fairly romantic sense—it felt as if something about it completed me.
She was also a conundrum. I could never quite predict what she would do next or what could come out of her mouth at any given moment and while it had frustrated me at first, I had grown to relish it over the past few weeks.
So, when she suggested we do more than just hold hands it had taken me aback for a moment.
Most saw me as just the wizard at Arthur’s right hand—his advisor and an enigma that could never quite be understood because I was not like them. Hells, I did not even fit into any of the designations. I did not have an increased sense of smell, nor the drive to go into a rut or a heat. I did not even feel the need to bow to an alpha’s words the way a beta would. Many of the alpha kings had tried to do so in vain.
Today, however, when Guinevere looked at me in that underground cave with her face glowing with soft green light from the water, her gaze told me that she saw me as a man. Not only that, she looked at me as if I was a man she was attracted to and wanted something more from.
It had made me panic at first if I was being completely honest with myself.
I had never considered myself as a part of the equation when it came to Arthur’s pack and the gods had never shown me such things… though I was fast coming to the conclusion that there were many things that the gods had not shown me about what was playing out in front of us.
I had not seen Morgana declaring a betrothal between Mordred and Vivenne, nor had I seen her banishment from the castle by Arthur. It was growing quickly obvious that my gods had kept certain things from me, I just could not understand why.
Did that mean that there was truly a possible place for me amongst Guinevere’s pack?
“Is such a thing even possible?” I asked out loud to the empty room.
But as always, the gods were silent unless they wished for me to see what they wanted me to see.
They had not communicated with me much since I emerged from the cave, only the occasional buzz whenever a piece of the future that they had shown me came to pass.
Such as the Princess of Lothian coming to live inside of the castle as Guinevere’s lady-in-waiting. The gods had shown me a vision of them standing arm-in-arm and giggling as they whispered something to each other… but not how she had come to be here.
Morgana’s movements were making me nervous and the closer we got to the fate that the gods decreed the less they showed me.
I did not know if allowing myself to woo Guinevere was meant to be a part of her future. Everything was too nebulous and vague, two things that did not sit well with me.
Even still, all I could think of now was how her lips might feel against mine and how much our magic would coalesce together with such contact. Just the mere idea of it made my chest warm in a way that I was unfamiliar with.
Was it lust? I had never felt such a thing before in my life.
Frustrated, I stood up and set about cleaning up after our lesson, choosing to focus on only that until there came a knock on the door to my rectory.
Thinking it must be Guinevere coming back to finish our conversation, I hurried over with an apology already on my lips.
“Gwen, about earlier, I’m sor—” I began, pausing when I realized that the person on the other side of the door was not, in fact, the omega queen who had run away from me.
“Apologies, Wizard Merlin,” Bedivere said as he stood awkwardly in front of me. I had known the alpha since we were all young boys, and yet he still remained as formal with me as he had the day that he was inducted into the knights of the round table. It was one of his most annoyingly endearing qualities. “Is her majesty here?”
I frowned at him, trying to glean whatever I could from his stony expression and coming up with nothing of use. “She is not.”
There was a short pause before: “Where has she gone?”
I shrugged, feeling suddenly irritated. “Who knows where her majesty goes, certainly not I.”
Bedivere did not seem to approve of my answer, but as always, he was far too polite to say so. The man turned on his heel and moved to leave.
“Wait,” I said begrudgingly, reaching out to put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Come in and tell me your woes and I shall share mine.”
I was not sure what I thought I was doing, but the words were out before I could stop them.
Bedivere’s dark brows drew together in confusion. “You wish for me to come in and ‘ share my woes ?’”
“Why not? We have known one another for decades now.” My words sounded false and high pitched even to my own ears, but I had an inkling that Bedivere may be the only person in the entire castle who just might understand my feelings today.
He looked as if he wanted to deny my request, his eyes darting between my face to the rectory behind me. Then he finally let out a sigh and stepped over the threshold.
“Would you like something to drink? Mead?” I asked, suddenly nervous as Bedivere stood observing the room. He rarely ever came in anymore when he accompanied Guinevere to her lessons and he had not been a fixture behind our queen for some time now ever since she had bonded to Gawain.
“No,” Bedivere answered gruffly, offering me nothing else. It was evident that I would need to be the one to lead this conversation or I feared we would be sitting and staring at each other until the moon was high overhead.
Gathering my resolve, I flopped down onto my settee, the same one that still smelled faintly of honeysuckle. Never before had I wished that I had the same sense of smell that humans with a designation did.
I wished to be able to dig my face into the covers and inhale deeply and know how I felt because my gods-given instincts were telling me so.
“You spoke with Guinevere earlier today, yes?” I began with a sigh, keeping an eye on his expression that gave nothing away.
“I did,” Bedivere replied, never one to lie even if he wanted to.
“And did she leave happy?”
There was a pause before his lips pulled into a deep frown. “No she did not.”
The words hung in the air between us and I was unsure of whether I wanted to continue on.
But I did anyway.
“She did not leave happily from here either and I fear it is for the same reason.”
Finally, Bedivere’s neutral demeanor cracked and surprise replaced his blank stare. “What would be those reasons, wizard?”
“I… she asked me if we could share our magic through something more than a simple touch.”
“ Ah ,” was all Bedivere said, sounding very much like I had earlier when I was speaking with Guinevere as understanding dawned on his face. “And you rejected her?”
“I did not even get the chance to,” I told him honestly. “But I am uncertain if I would have or not. Nothing in the gods’ visions have shown me to be a part of such a thing as a pack. I do not even possess a designation.”
“The gods’ portents may not always be correct,” Bedivere pointed out, his silvery gaze slanting away from mine. “They can make mistakes just as you or I can.”
Never before had I considered such a thing, my mind immediately rejecting his words. The gods may work in mysterious ways, but they were omnipotent—they would not make a mistake such as this.
“Are you speaking of me or you?” I asked, my voice challenging. “Is that why she was in such a state when she came in today?”
Bedivere’s lips pinched together. “I cannot protect her—how can she have an alpha that cannot protect her?”
“So you wound her heart instead?”
I could see the guilt clear as day on the alpha’s face, but I pushed on anyway, forging ahead through the hurt.
“You feel as if you cannot protect her, but who ever said you needed to? The gods meant for your pack to work together as a group—a family. They never said anything about your ability to wield a sword, Sir Bedivere.”
Bedivere finally sat next to me on the settee, his shoulders sinking as he sighed. “Can the same not be said for you? The gods may never have shown you your place in all of this, but they also did not show you that you cannot be with her—if that is what you wish for.”
My head shook involuntarily. “I should not even consider it.”
“Then why should I?” Bedivere questioned, giving my shoulder a little bump with his. It was more affection than I could ever remember receiving from the older alpha.
He also had a point, the bastard.
“Do you think Guinevere is overly angry with us?” I asked after a few moments of tense, thought-filled silence.
“I do not know, though she does have quite the temper,” the alpha said before he let out a rumbling chuckle, thinking of our omega queen. “I feel that we should be more worried about Arthur than Guinevere, though. The man will probably come round shortly to tear us a new arsehole.”
I grimaced at that.
“Lovely,” I finally said. “Then, shall we play some cards while we wait for the inevitable?”
I still was not completely sure about my next course of action, but at the very least I felt better having spoken with Bedivere.
Maybe he was right—maybe the gods would not mind if I pursued Guinevere as more than just her magic teacher.
But did I even have the courage to do so? Of that, I was uncertain.