CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
-LANCE-
Wrapped in Guinevere's embrace, I found the answer I'd refused to acknowledge—that the bond I'd sensed with Lioran had never been false.
It had always been real.
Achingly, undeniably real. It transcended disguise, deception, and expectation. Every touch, every breath between us felt like a revelation—less like indulgence and more like inevitability.
This transcended mere longing, though passion had undoubtedly brought us to this moment. But no, this was more: it was acknowledgment. Wholeness. The sudden, staggering realization that what I’d been searching for had been beside me all along, hidden behind armor and a false name.
But reality crept in like a cold wind under the door, pressing at the edges of the fragile sanctuary we’d made of this moment. I sat up slowly, dragging a hand through my disheveled hair, the weight of what we’d done settling across my shoulders like iron mail.
I had betrayed Arthur.
Not just in sexual acts—but in loyalty, in purpose. I'd concealed her identity, withheld truth from my king, and lain with the very woman he sought with single-minded obsession. I'd broken every oath I'd sworn the day I knelt and offered my sword to Camelot.
And yet…
Looking at her—Guinevere, no longer Lioran—I couldn’t summon the regret I knew I should have felt. She watched me with those stunning eyes, her expression open, uncertain, and so heartbreakingly vulnerable it made my chest ache.
What we’d shared… it had been honest. In a world built on secrets, shadows, and shifting loyalties, this had been the one true thing. That truth would have to carry me forward—through guilt, through consequence, through whatever storm waited on the other side of dawn.
“This changes nothing about your situation,” I said quietly, grimly. “If Arthur discovers you…”
I couldn’t finish. The words turned to stone in my throat. I would not allow him to discover her. I would protect her. How? I wasn't certain. But I would.
Her voice was small but steady. “Will you tell him?”
I stood and turned to the window, staring out across the moonlit battlements. The towers of Camelot rose like silent judges in the dark, as if they, too, waited for my answer.
“I know I should,” I said at last. “My oath. My duty. My identity is bound to Arthur and Camelot.” I looked back at her and shook my head. “But I could never do that to you.”
"Lance," she started, but I held up a hand to silence her. There was more I wanted her to know.
"The man Arthur has become… he’s not the king I pledged my life to. Not any longer.” I drew a breath, heavy and ragged. “And what’s more—I believe you. About the reason why you’re here.”
Surprise flickered across her face. “You do?”
I nodded. “You are one of the most gifted knights in this court—magic or no magic. And your sex should never have kept you from serving your king… or your country.”
She smiled then. A real smile, soft and radiant, beautiful.
I sighed and shook my head. "But it isn't safe for you to remain here, Guinevere. Regardless of whether or not I keep your secret."
"But—"
“—if Arthur somehow learns the truth, you’ll need to leave Camelot. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Where would I go?” Her eyes lifted to mine—violet, luminous, full of quiet despair. “My home is gone—destroyed. My parents are dead. There’s nothing left to return to.”
The weight of her predicament settled over me like heavy chainmail. She'd risked everything and now stood with nowhere to turn. What was more—I couldn't stomach the thought of never seeing her again.
“Perhaps we could find a place somewhere far from here,” I said. “A village in the northern reaches, near the borderlands. Arthur’s reach is weakest there. You could live quietly, without fear.” I paused. "And I could come to you whenever I was able."
A wistful smile tugged at her lips as she brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “This hair would betray me no matter where I went. I would be found eventually.”
“Then we’ll find a way to hide you.” I knew this was all wishful thinking.
Arthur never forgot. He never forgave. He would hunt her until his heart stopped.
Still, I returned to the bed and pulled her against me, feeling the fragile rhythm of her heartbeat against my chest. Whatever it took, I would protect her.
Against Arthur. Against anyone who wished her ill.
“You deserve better than a life spent in fear,” I continued. “And I will not allow any harm to come to you.”
She looked up at me then, shaking her head. “You can’t protect me from Arthur.”
“Maybe not forever,” I admitted, cupping her jaw gently, “but I can protect you now.” I kissed her softly—just once, a promise pressed into her lips rather than a claim. “I’ll find a way.”
Then something occurred to me—a cold dread settling in my stomach. “Does anyone else know your secret? Anyone who might expose you before we can act?”
She stiffened slightly, the warmth between us fading as worry shadowed her eyes. She glanced toward the window, as though fearing the night itself might be listening. Her lips parted, but for a moment, she said nothing—just gnawed gently at her lower lip.
Finally, she whispered, “Kay.”
“Fuck.” The word left me like a punch to the ribs.
I pulled back, dragging a hand through my hair as frustration surged through me.
Of all the people who could have known her secret…
it had to be Kay. With his sharp tongue and sharper instincts, he never missed an opportunity to leverage knowledge for personal gain.
He would savor this secret—wait until it hurt the most to reveal it.
The thought of his eyes on her, knowing, calculating—it made my skin crawl. “How did that bastard discover what you’ve hidden so well?”
She hesitated, fingers twisting nervously in the tangled sheets. “He got a sample of my blood when we were sparring. He tested it. I don’t know the details, only that he confronted me afterward with the truth.”
I felt my jaw clench. “Then Mordred knows too?”
She shook her head. “From what I understand, no one else knows. Kay said he used a servant—someone who owed him a favor. She had access to some of Mordred’s lesser ritual components, enough to perform an identity spell. Nothing that would trigger alarm.”
I let out a slow breath. That was something, at least. Mordred’s involvement would have made this infinitely worse—his allegiance to Arthur was complete.
Still, Kay knowing her secret was one problem too many.
“Has Kay tried to leverage this against you yet?” I already suspected the answer. The shift in her expression—tightened jaw, averted eyes—confirmed it before she spoke.
She nodded slowly. “He attempted to, yes.”
I said nothing for a long moment. My anger boiled just beneath the surface—at Kay, at Arthur for creating a court where such threats were currency, and at myself for not noticing sooner. But more than that, I was furious at the helplessness in her voice, the fear she was trying to hide.
“Did he hurt you?” I asked quietly.
She looked away, her profile suddenly rigid with something beyond fear—something that kindled my rage before she even spoke.
"He..." Then she cleared her throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet chamber. "He attempted to, yes."
“What did he want from you?” Heat surged through me—an old, familiar fury that usually preceded bloodshed. My hands flexed at my sides, already imagining themselves closing around Kay’s throat.
If he had touched her…
There wouldn't be anything left when I was through with him.
She wouldn’t meet my gaze. Her eyes fixed on the moonlit window, her shoulders rigid. I reached out and turned her face toward mine, gently but firmly. The faint crimson in her cheeks wasn’t embarrassment—it was anger, humiliation, and something deeper that twisted in my chest.
“Guinevere.” My voice shook with restrained violence. “Tell me what he did to you.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “He discovered my secret, and he tried to use it against me. He thought fear of discovery would buy my silence and my obedience.”
My breath left me in a slow, dangerous exhale. I could picture it too easily—Kay cornering her with that cruel, smug smile, wielding her secret like a weapon. The image was enough to make my vision blur at the edges.
"Did he see you—the true you?" I knew Kay's nature all too well—his ability to perceive weakness, to exploit vulnerability.
If he had glimpsed even a fraction of her true beauty beneath the Lioran disguise, if he had seen the woman behind the knight's facade, he would have wanted her.
The thought alone made my blood run cold with rage.
"Yes." That single word was barely audible. Her hands trembled slightly where they rested against her sides, and I could see the shadow of whatever had transpired written across her delicate features.
My jaw clenched so hard I felt my teeth might crack.
"He attempted to force himself on you?" The question came out harsher than I intended, each word edged with barely contained violence.
The possibility made something feral and protective roar to life within me—a beast that demanded blood, demanded justice for any harm done to her.
And it made no blasted sense. I had never been protective of another woman before. But she was not another woman. No, as far as I was concerned, she was the only woman.
“He was stopped before he could… claim me.”
"Stopped?"
She nodded. "Elenora—she stepped in on my behalf."
I was surprised, as I hadn't thought Elenora the type to involve herself in the affairs of others—particularly not to defend someone she barely knew.
The courtesan had always struck me as self-serving, concerned primarily with her own pleasures and survival within the treacherous waters of court politics.
Yet she had stepped between Kay and Guinevere when it mattered most, risking his wrath and potentially her own position at court.