CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO #2
I now felt a newfound respect for the woman, even if I had completely lost any romantic interest in her.
The shallow attraction I'd once felt seemed laughable now, a pale shadow compared to what burned within me for the woman before me.
Elenora's intervention had likely saved Guinevere from a fate that would have destroyed us both—her from the violation, and me from the consequences of what I would have done to Kay in response.
Truth be told, I didn't imagine I would ever feel for another woman the way I did for Guinevere.
The intensity of my feelings defied everything I thought I knew about myself, about desire, about the careful boundaries I'd maintained throughout my life.
Every other woman had been a temporary distraction, a brief flame that burned bright and died quickly.
But this—whatever this was between us—felt like something that could consume everything in its path.
And that frightened the hell out of me. More than facing Arthur's wrath or the consequences of my actions. This woman had the power to unmake me completely, and I was walking willingly into that destruction.
"Then Elenora knows the truth about you—about Lioran?"
She shook her head. "She only knows what she walked into—Kay about to… have his way with me."
“You must never find yourself alone with Kay again.” My tone was low and unyielding. I lifted her chin with my fingertips, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Now that he's seen your beauty, he will not stop until he's had you.”
She nodded. “I avoid him when I can. He’s… the most disagreeable of all Arthur’s knights.”
“He’s more than that. He’s dangerous. If he failed once to claim you, he’ll try another way.”
And if he succeeded, I would kill him. It was as simple as that.
"Lance," she started, looking at me with worry—as though she could read my thoughts.
My fingers tightened briefly before I released her, pulling back to contain the fury burning through me.
The thought of Kay harming her—no, the thought of him even touching her—released a rage within me I'd never known before.
I wasn't certain how I would face him again without slamming my fist into his face.
“I’ll do everything I can to keep him away from you, but I can’t be everywhere at once.”
The admission stung. I, who had stood against armies and never faltered, could not fight this single enemy in every shadow of Camelot. But I would damn well try.
She looked at me and nodded, a strange certainty in her expression. "I believe... he will keep his distance."
"You don't know him like I do. Twenty years I've watched that man fester in his own bitterness. And if he's set his sights on you, he will stop at nothing until he possesses you. And if he's realized you are the woman Arthur is after…"
I looked at her in question, and she nodded to say that Kay was aware that she was that same woman.
"Fuck!"
I slammed my fist into the mattress, making her jump. I then reached out and touched her face.
"I didn't mean to frighten you," I said softly, shaking my head as my gaze settled on the trees outside her window. "This is not a good situation, Guinevere."
"Please, call me Guin. It's the name those closest to me call me."
The closeness of that simple request struck me hard. Guin. Not Guinevere. Just Guin—soft and real and achingly vulnerable in the dim light filtering through her chamber window.
I nodded, testing the name silently on my tongue before speaking it aloud.
"Guin." It felt like a prayer, like a secret I wasn't worthy to hold.
"It's just a matter of time before Kay comes for you.
He's always been in Arthur's shadow, feeding off the scraps of power and recognition that fall from the king's table.
And if there's something Arthur covets—truly covets—Kay wants it twice as much.
" I paused, watching the way the moonlight caught the strands of her hair, making them gleam.
"As I said before, you being here, in Camelot, is too dangerous. "
My voice roughened with the weight of that truth, with the knowledge that every moment she remained within these walls brought her closer to discovery, to Kay's poisonous attention, to Arthur's wrath.
I reached out, unable to stop myself, and ran my fingers down the side of her face, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my calloused palm.
Then I traced the line of her jaw with my thumb, marveling at its delicate strength—how something so seemingly fragile could belong to a woman who wielded magic like a blade and faced down knights without flinching.
I breathed out heavily as I realized what a terrible situation she was in.
There was no way she could willingly stay here—her days were numbered.
And yet finding her a place to live and securing said place—well, that all took time.
Not to mention that it would seem very strange to Arthur for me to request time away from court—something I hadn't done since my mother and sister were alive.
"Perhaps... perhaps I can have your bedchamber relocated closer to mine."
How else could I protect her?
She looked at me and shook her head. "Lance, that would attract too many questions, too much attention. Arthur himself would wonder at such an arrangement." Her hand came to rest on mine, her touch cooling the fire of my rage. "We must be careful. More careful than we've ever been."
We.
The single word felt warm against my chest, settling into the hollow spaces that had grown cold over years of solitary duty and unquestioned loyalty. When had I last spoken of "we" with anyone? When had my life become anything more than singular purpose, singular devotion to Arthur's crown?
The concept felt foreign on my tongue, yet right. We—it was as if Guin—Guinevere—and I were bound by something stronger than the dangerous attraction that had pulled us together in stolen moments. As if we were allies in more than just this precarious dance of secrets and desire.
I didn't know what it was, perhaps just her, but desire began stirring within me once more, and I rolled over on top of her, pinning her beneath me.
"We will figure this out later. For now, I need to be inside you again."
She didn't respond but simply spread her legs, welcoming me. Instantly, my cock was hard, and before I could think of another thought about her leaving Camelot, I slid inside her, thrusting myself as deep as I could go.
"Whatever happens, you are mine. And any man who touches you will pay the price."
-GUIN-
Dawn light filtered through the window as I stared at the ceiling, Lance's arm draped possessively across my waist, heavy and warm against my bare skin.
He'd made love to me all night long—seemingly never satiated, always wanting more. His hands had mapped every inch of my body; his mouth had tasted every curve, every hollow.
And though my quim was sore, throbbing with a pleasant ache that reminded me of each passionate encounter, I couldn't deny him.
I wanted to feel him thrusting inside me just as much as he wanted it, craved the way he filled me completely, the way he whispered my true name against my neck as he shuddered in release.
Now, the warmth of his body pressed against mine should have brought comfort, but instead, panic clawed at me like a living thing, its talons digging deeper with each steady breath he took.
He knew everything. Well, almost everything. He knew my true identity, and he knew I'd pulled the sword from the stone. He knew I was the woman Arthur was determined to find.
But he didn't know the real reason I was here.
I’d had to keep some truths buried deep—suffocated beneath layers of carefully crafted half-truths.
I couldn’t tell him everything: that I was a spy from Annwyn, that I was Merlin’s daughter, born of a union between the Archmage and the Lady of the Lake.
Instead, I’d offered a more palatable lie—that I’d come only to serve the king, a loyal subject forced into disguise because of a kingdom that would never accept a woman’s strength.
And he’d believed me.
More than that—he’d championed me. He’d vowed to protect me with the same lips that had kissed every part of my body, with the hands that had held me like I was something sacred. That thought made my stomach churn.
Lance trusted me.
But he shouldn't have.
His faith in me was a fragile, beautiful thing—already cracked by my silence, doomed to shatter beneath the truth.
He didn’t know who I really was. He didn’t know what I’d been sent to do.
And if he ever did find out… if he learned the whole truth, he would turn on me.
Not just because of Arthur, but because betrayal was a line you didn’t come back from.
And that’s what I was: a betrayer. A liar. An infiltrator.
The thoughts spun in endless, punishing circles, each pass drawing fresh blood. Whatever bond had grown between us—it wouldn't survive the truth. Not when the full truth meant I wasn’t just Arthur’s enemy, but his.
Everyone’s enemy.
I held my breath as I slipped out from under the warmth of his arm.
Naked, I stood beside the bed and stared down at him—at this man who had held me like I was something worth saving.
In sleep, his face was unguarded, softened in a way I rarely saw.
The hardened soldier had melted into something almost gentle.
Boyish, even. So different from the man who had clutched me through the night like he feared I’d disappear.
Lance was… beautiful. Stunning. And he was good.
Gods, that fantasy he’d whispered—about finding a cottage in some forgotten northern village, a place where I could be safe—it clung to me. A small but homey cottage, a place where wildflowers grew between cobblestones, where no one asked questions. No disguises. No swords. Just quiet. Just peace.
Just freedom.
I wanted it so badly my chest ached.