CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO #3
But it was only a dream—light as the fog that obscured Camelot every morning and just as fleeting.
There was no cottage. No safe village. No future where I could belong only to Lance.
Not while Arthur hunted me. Not while Merlin pulled strings from the shadows. Not while the truth lived beneath my skin like a curse I couldn’t outrun.
One thing Lance did have correct was that my days here were numbered. The web of lies I'd spun was unraveling thread by thread, its fragile structure threatening to collapse entirely.
It was too dangerous that Kay, Morgan, and Lance all knew my secret.
And this Vaelen that Morgan had mentioned.
Four people who could destroy me with a whispered word in the wrong ear.
Four different agendas, four different reasons to either protect or expose me.
And, yes, I had debated telling Lance that Morgan knew my secret as well, and that she wasn't Elenora, but a highly powerful sorceress.
Yet, I'd kept that tidbit to myself. I wasn't certain why—perhaps I simply couldn't bear to introduce more complications into this already impossible situation.
Or perhaps I was protecting her in the same way she'd protected me. Even when I'd spoken of her, I'd used her fake name—Elenora.
Lance stirred as I wondered what in the world I should do now, moving forward. The need to leave this place was almost overwhelming, threatening to choke me with its urgency. Each passing moment felt like sand slipping through my fingers—time I didn't have, options narrowing with every heartbeat.
"Where are you?" he growled from the bed.
I turned around to face him just as he stood up, exposing the heavy erection between his legs.
God, the man was insatiable! Not only that, but he was enormous!
Not only in height and breadth of his shoulders, but his cock was magnificent—intimidating in its proportions.
No wonder my quim was so tender and swollen.
The sight of him, powerful and unashamed in his nakedness, sent a thrill through me despite my apprehension.
"I'm here." I looked at him with a deliberate smirk as he approached me, all the while trying to project confidence I didn't feel.
"I'm hungry." He took me in from head to toe, his gaze lingering on the curve of my breasts, the narrowing of my waist, the flare of my hips. His eyes darkened with desire, pupils expanding.
"For what?" My voice was huskier than intended, betraying the effect he had on me despite my better judgment. We didn't have time for another round of lovemaking. With the sun now in the sky, our chances of getting caught were much greater.
Lance's gaze burned into mine, those dark eyes holding me captive as he closed the distance between us.
Each step was deliberate and measured. The morning light streaming through the window caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth.
Gods, he was so stunningly beautiful.
When he reached me, his hands slid around my waist, fingers splaying across my bare skin as he lifted me effortlessly into his arms. My body felt weightless against his powerful frame, his strength evident in the way he held me as though I weighed nothing at all.
The scent of him filled my senses as he cradled me closer, one arm supporting my back while the other curved beneath my thighs. His touch sent sparks racing along my skin, awakening every nerve ending despite my growing concern about the advancing hour.
"I'm hungry for your cunt in my mouth," he growled, the raw hunger in his voice sending shivers through me.
He carried me to the bed in three long strides, laying me down with surprising gentleness. Then he loomed over me—his massive shoulders blocking the morning light as he knelt in front of me, spreading my legs.
"Lance, your release is still inside me."
"I don't care."
He pulled my lips apart and studied my quim, which was, no doubt, visibly swollen from our earlier passions. His eyes gleamed with appreciation and possessiveness. He ran his finger down my slit, and I bucked beneath him, unable to control my body's response to his touch.
"Still wet, just how I want you."
"Lance," I started, looking up at him, anxiety creeping into my voice. The first gray light of dawn was already seeping around the edges of my heavy curtains. "Everyone will be waking soon. It won't be safe for you to remain here any longer."
The thought of discovery sent ice through me—not just for my sake, but for his. Arthur's champion found in bed with another knight would create a scandal enough, without the revelation of what truly lay beneath my magical disguise.
He thrust his finger inside me without warning, and I instantly arched against him, a gasp escaping my lips before I could stifle it.
The sudden invasion sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, my inner walls clenching greedily around his finger, which soon became two.
My body betrayed me utterly, responding to him with embarrassing eagerness even as my mind raced, still calculating the risks and consequences.
Each passing moment increased our chances of discovery, yet I couldn't bring myself to push him away.
"I am going to taste my woman, and nothing is going to stop me."
Then he pulled his fingers out of me and pushed my thighs further apart, his large hands spanning them easily.
Before I could say another word, his tongue was on my sensitive nub, sucking and pulling as I gripped the bed linens and moaned.
He moved his tongue down my slit and began fucking me with it as I rocked my hips against his face, loving the feel of him on and in my most sensitive place.
The morning's dangers seemed to recede in the face of such exquisite pleasure—my body surrendering while my mind continued its silent calculations.
My body tensed on the precipice of release when he suddenly withdrew, rising to his full height before me.
His cock jutted proudly between us, the swollen head gleaming with moisture as it hovered at my entrance.
A desperate sound escaped my throat, my flesh throbbing and empty, silently begging to be filled.
"Tell me you're mine." He stroked his cock up and down with deliberate, torturous slowness, the tip revealing his release that had already started to bead at the slit. His eyes burned into mine, demanding not just pleasure but submission—ownership.
"I'm yours." The words escaped before I could consider their weight, their implications extending far beyond this moment of passion.
"What else is mine?" His hand still worked his length as he hovered at my entrance.
"My body is yours, Lance."
And then he shoved himself within me, claiming what I'd just declared his own. He fucked me hard and fast, and soon we both reached our peaks; then he collapsed against me. His face rested on my breasts, and he eagerly pulled one nipple into his mouth, sucking it.
"I must leave you now." He separated himself from my nipple and sat up. "But know I will come up with a plan."
"What should I do in the meantime?"
"Continue on as Lioran." He bent down to pull his discarded braies back on. "And avoid Kay at all costs." He paused and took a deep breath. "I have decided to come to you each night and remain here to ensure he doesn't find you alone."
"Lance…"
He looked at me and silenced me with the expression in his eyes, pulling his tunic over his head. His muscled torso caught the dim light, shadows playing across the scars that mapped his years of battle.
"Kay is coming for you, mark my words. I don't know when, but it's inevitable.
The man has never failed to covet what Arthur desires.
Now that he knows Arthur is fixated on you, he will want to claim you before Arthur ever gets the chance—it's been his pattern since boyhood.
" Lance's jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with something savage and fierce.
"And if I'm here when Kay attempts to lay a hand on you, I will end his life without hesitation. "
A chill ran through me at his words. Such a confrontation would be catastrophic. How could Lance possibly explain killing the king’s foster brother over a knight who’d only just arrived at court? No—this situation had become untenable.
My presence no longer endangered only me. It endangered Lance. And that was something I couldn't stomach.
As though sensing the storm inside me, his expression softened as he reached for me, strong arms sweeping me against his chest. His mouth found mine in a kiss that felt like a vow, like a drowning man clutching the only thing keeping him tethered to the surface.
“No frowns on that beautiful face.” He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.
When he left, the silence that followed was almost unbearable.
I sank to the floor, my legs unable to support the weight pressing down on me. The physical exhaustion was real—my body still hummed with the memory of his touch—but it was the guilt that truly hollowed me out. The ache in my chest pulsed with a depth no pleasure could reach.
How I wanted this fairy tale to be real. How I longed to believe there was a future for us—in some distant village, far from Camelot. Mornings spent in each other’s arms, free from fear. Evenings by the hearth, where we shared truths instead of lies.
But that dream… it was moonlight on water—beautiful, distant, and impossible to hold.
And when Lance discovered the truth—and he would—when he learned that I wasn’t simply a woman hiding behind a false name but a spy sent by Merlin to infiltrate Arthur’s court, to unravel everything Lance had sworn to protect...
He would hate me.
Not with a quiet bitterness. Not with heartbreak.
With fury.
And I could already imagine the moment—the disbelief hardening into betrayal, the passion in his eyes turning to ash. The truth would cut him. Deeply. Because I hadn’t just lied once. I’d kept lying, even now, even after he’d given me his body, his trust, and his heart.
Even now, I was still deceiving him. But there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. No matter what angle I looked at the situation, I was stuck.
And the thought of seeing Lance's face transform from adoration to disgust made my stomach clench. Those warm eyes turning cold. That gentle touch becoming indifferent—or worse, cruel. Once Lance knew what I truly was, he might bring the blade down on my neck himself.
And perhaps I would deserve it.
I pressed my forehead to the cool stone floor, trying to steady my breathing. There was no future for me here. Only the certainty of catastrophe if I stayed.
And that meant only one thing: I had to leave.
Today. Before I weakened. Before I changed my mind.
I rose and began to pace, my bare feet whispering over the worn stone as anxiety clawed at me. But where could I go? I had no money. No allies. Nothing to trade. And nowhere in Logres that would take me in—this hadn't been my home in years.
Every bond I’d forged in Camelot was built on a lie. Every friendship. Every look of respect. All of it poisoned.
But fleeing wouldn’t go unnoticed. If I disappeared in the night, Arthur would send the Guard after me—and they were trained to hunt. Once suspicion fell on Lioran, it would only grow. Questions would follow. Then orders. Then steel.
My absence alone would raise alarms. Lioran had become a favored knight, valuable and loyal—or so Arthur believed. That illusion alone would be enough to prompt a manhunt. And once they came looking, the truth wouldn’t stay hidden for long.
Yes, I could abandon Lioran's face, shed the magic, and take on another guise. I could change the color of my hair, conceal my features, become someone new. But it would just be another mask. Another prison. I would always be running, hiding.
And Annwyn? The thought twisted my gut. Returning to Merlin would be its own kind of death.
I could already see the disappointment in his eyes—not the wounded kind, but the cold, strategic kind.
The kind that tallied your failure and moved you off the board like a sacrificed pawn.
And Corvin? I didn't know how he would react to me. He too would be disappointed, no doubt.
No, there was nowhere left for me to go. No haven. No sanctuary.
I needed time. A better plan. Something cleverer.
I forced a breath into my lungs. Today, I would do as Lance said. I would play my part. I would wear the armor.
I would become Lioran again.
I would move through the day with care. Bow before Arthur. Speak with measured loyalty. Avoid Kay. Fight as though I belonged here. And behind it all, I would watch. Measure. Plan. I would find a way out that didn’t leave blood in my wake.
Maybe I could create a diversion—a fire in the east wing, a whisper of conspiracy, a chase that would send the Guard riding in the wrong direction. Or I could fake illness, beg leave to visit a sacred spring, and simply vanish.
But as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, what stared back wasn’t Sir Lioran.
It was the weight of every lie I’d told.
Each one braided tightly around me, binding me to this court like a chain. Even the truth had begun to blur, buried under the shape of a story I’d forced myself to live.
And I knew this: when the story began to unravel—when one thread snapped—it would all collapse. Arthur’s fury would be absolute. Kay’s triumph, unbearable. And Lance…
Lance would look at me as if I were a stranger.
And that would be the worst of all.