CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
-GUIN-
I sat alone in my chamber, unable to sleep.
Instead, I sat staring at the flickering candle flame on my table. The following trial would begin at dawn, yet still no word had emerged regarding what the trial would entail—something that only fueled the anxiety within me.
My fingers traced the worn edge of the table as I considered how precarious my place in Camelot had now become.
Elenora knew my secret—how, I still didn’t know—and that alone was troubling.
But after the conversation with Lance beneath the moonlight, I feared he, too, stood on the edge of discovery.
I closed my eyes and remembered the gentleness in his voice, the softness of his expression, the way I’d let pieces of my true self slip through the mask. It had felt right in the moment—a stolen breath of honesty in a life lived behind layers of lies—but now I cursed myself for it.
If Lance knew the full truth—that I was a spy sent by Merlin to infiltrate Arthur’s court—he would have no choice but to imprison me and hang me for my crimes. His duty to Arthur would demand it.
Yet he'd offered me protection—even though he didn't want to know my secret, he would protect it and me. Didn't that mean something?
No, it didn't. The sad truth was that it was easy to offer protection when you didn’t know what you were protecting—a viper coiled in the heart of Camelot.
A knock startled me.
At this hour, visitors were rare. Most knights had already sought their rest or lost themselves in the castle’s more carnal pleasures.
I pulled the moisture from the air, then passed a hand over my face, feeling the familiar tingle of magic as it responded to my will.
The Lioran glamour settled into place like a second skin—the illusion that had become as much a part of me as breathing.
The transformation was so practiced now that it required barely a thought, yet tonight the weight of it felt heavier somehow.
Another knock. This one a little more urgent.
I opened the door cautiously and found Elenora standing on the threshold. Immediately, my heart dropped.
“Lioran,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, shaded with something I couldn’t quite name.
Memories of our last time together hit me hard, and a mixture of shame rose to my cheeks, heating them instantly. Regardless, I stepped aside to allow her in. Elenora moved past me, her presence filling the room the way it always did.
It was her eyes I noticed first—how they were narrowed, focused entirely on me—calculating or concerned, I couldn’t tell. The flicker of the candle flame also revealed the furrow between her brows, the tightness around her mouth—signs that something weighed on her.
I closed the door behind her.
"You can wear your true face."
I nodded slowly, the familiar sensation of the Lioran disguise dissipating like mist as I let it slide away from my skin.
Elenora moved deeper into the room, her footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor, an embodiment of silent grace.
But as she did, unease twisted in my gut—her presence felt heavy with unspoken intentions.
Was she here to remind me of the leverage she wielded like a sword over my head?
Would she seek to blackmail me, revealing my secrets and vulnerabilities for her own gain?
Or perhaps, was she here to warn against my growing feelings for Lance?
She began to pace the small confines of my room but said nothing.
"You seem as if you're bothered by something," I asked, keeping my tone neutral while watching her closely for any hint of her true purpose.
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she stopped her pacing and drew something from within the folds of her cloak—an object wrapped in deep blue silk.
"In a manner of speaking, yes," she said, her eyes locked on mine. "I am… concerned."
"About?"
"The next trial."
"I still am unsure of what that trial is."
"The Riddle of Blood is perhaps the most revealing of the trials," she responded.
"Its entire purpose is to uncover unexpected truths about participants and even secrets in their bloodlines—secrets they themselves might not even know.
" She paused. "I daresay you can imagine how dangerous this trial could be for you? "
I nodded, her words sending a chill of apprehension down my spine, settling like ice between my shoulder blades.
"This is the first I've heard of it."
"And that is by design."
"All trials test us differently," I said evenly, trying not to betray the sudden dryness in my mouth or the sweat gathering beneath my collar.
I thought of the Obscura Merlin had gifted me and, more pointedly, the Veilwood Draught.
It was a potion brewed from the roots of the Veilwood—the ancient forest in Annwyn where the boundary between realms thinned.
Drinking the draught would allow a thin veil to drop over my mind.
In so doing, Arthur would not be able to see my intentions, emotions, or the visions I received in the trials.
Instead, my thoughts would appear muted, mundane.
"You think you are prepared, but you are not." Elenora tilted her head slightly, as though measuring my words against some internal scale. The gesture felt almost predatory. Then, without further explanation, she extended her hand and offered me the silk-wrapped object.
"What is it?"
"Something that will help you during the trial," she replied, her voice unreadable. "A gift from me… to you."
"A gift?" I repeated, my voice carefully measured despite the skepticism coursing through me.
I didn't know what it was Elenora was after, and that bothered me.
Furthermore, I was convinced she was after something.
She wasn't the type of woman who did things out of the good nature of her heart. No, there had to be strings attached.
Without warning, vivid images crashed into my consciousness—her mouth on my most intimate flesh, the skilled way her tongue had worked against me, the desperate sounds I'd made as she brought me to the edge of madness.
Heat flooded my cheeks before I could stop it, and I had to blink rapidly, forcing the memories back into the shadows where they belonged.
"Go on, take it."
I swallowed hard, reaching out to accept the silk-wrapped object. As soon as I did, I had to glance down at it in order to avoid the expression in her eyes—as if she knew exactly what I was thinking about.
"It will help keep prying eyes away from the secret you most want to protect."
My fingers brushed the silk, the fabric soft and cool, unnervingly at odds with the heat of suspicion rising in my chest. Inside was a small vial filled with a soft blue shimmering liquid, tiny currents swirling beneath the crystal surface. I recognized it immediately.
"Caliope."
"Yes," Elenora confirmed, her voice almost tender—but no warmth touched her eyes. "You must drink it before the trial."
I stared at the vial, my thoughts spinning. Caliope was rare. No one I knew—not even Merlin—had ever entrusted me with it. A fluid of ancient origin, Caliope took on properties according to the user's intent. It was the most adaptable, and therefore the most dangerous, of enchantments.
"If you drink it before the Riddle of Blood," she continued, stepping closer, "you can ensure that nothing your blood reveals will… jeopardize your place here or jeopardize… you."
I looked at her sharply. "Why are you helping me?"
She didn’t blink but took a step closer until I held out a hand to stop her. "I've already answered that, Guinevere."
I narrowed my eyes. "The answers you gave me were non-answers. And you never told me how you know my name."
She smiled—calm, cold. "You never asked."
"Well, I’m asking now."
"And now," she said, her eyes flicking to the door, "we don’t have time for long stories. I shouldn’t even be here—this is very dangerous for us both, but I had to prepare you."
"I already have the Veilwood Draught."
She shook her head. "It won't be enough, but take it anyway. And, immediately afterward, take the Caliope. Then you will be fully protected."
Was this genuine help—a lifeline thrown by someone who truly understood what I was up against? Or was it something more sinister—a trap meticulously dressed as mercy, designed to ensnare me when I was most vulnerable?
I studied Elenora's face, searching for some tell, some crack in her composed facade that might reveal her true intentions. But she remained perfectly still, perfectly controlled, her expression giving nothing away.
Elenora held my gaze with unnerving stillness. In that silence, I was reminded that this woman already knew too much. That she could destroy me with a few words—if not tonight, then any time she chose. And I still didn’t understand what she stood to gain.
"You can trust me," she nearly whispered.
Behind the calculation, I glimpsed something else. Not kindness—but recognition. A flicker of someone who, like me, lived behind layers. Who knew what it meant to survive by secrecy.
"Thank you," I said at last, figuring there was nothing more left to say. I wouldn’t drink it—not yet. Maybe not ever. I would make that decision when the time came.
She offered a small, satisfied smile—still devoid of warmth—and stepped back toward the door. She hesitated for a moment with her hand on the latch and turned back to face me.
"Good luck, Lioran," she whispered, and with a nod, opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.
I had a feeling the trial tomorrow would test much more than my blood. It would test the strength of secrets.
And the price I was willing to pay to keep mine.
-ELENORA-
The corridor stretched before me, shadows pooling in the alcoves between flickering torches. I kept my pace measured, unhurried—just another courtier returning from an evening assignation. No one would question me slipping from a knight's chamber at this hour. They never did.