his head as if he understood, but the statement lingered in my mind. Why would a magician—a druid, an old one—disapprove of me? And why, for that matter, would Arthur, a Christian, employ such a man?
"How many of your men did you retain?" asked my father.
"Two dozen bowmen are stationed here, on the north wall. A couple dozen more with swords and spears surround us."
"My men guard the east, west and south gates and are positioned on each watchtower as well as the wall. As my successor, they are yours to command, Arthur."
Arthur nodded his acknowledgment. He turned, directing his speech to Lancelot. "Take the women to the king's hall and guard them there."
The knight nodded, but before he could direct us further, I interrupted, "No! I will not flee and cower while Camelaird is in danger. I will stay and help direct the fight."
"Daughter!" yelled my father, but Arthur cut in.
"And just how do you intend to help and not distract?"
"The right to protect my people is as much mine as it is yours."
Sir Lancelot pressed in behind me as if to signal my leave. A desire to sink backwards into him overwhelmed me. How easy it would be to allow him to escort me away, then protect me while I remained blinded to the events that would shape my father's future—indeed, the future of Camelaird, and perhaps the whole of Britannia. And how wrong it would be to allow myself that simple escape into the protection of a man I could barely resist.
Arthur stared wordlessly at me. His halo of bright curls dulled in the darkness, like a mass of ancient vines swirling on top his head. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. I started at the electricity of his touch—like lightning striking my skin—a curious opposition to the warmth Lancelot provided. I attempted to pull away, but the sensation of the sparks jolting my nerves held me in place.
"All I've ever wanted is the safety of all Britons."
"All you ever wanted was the crown of Camelaird," I slung back.
"You misunderstand, Guinevere."
His informal use of my name without the prefix of my title angered me and I fought to refrain from demanding adherence to proper decorum.
The edges of his mouth turned downward as he considered me. "My father, Uther, had sworn alliance to your father many years ago. They launched a campaign to wipe out the Saxons, so my father was gone for most of my childhood. When those murderous Saxon villains came upon us, my mother was alone. Even our stronghold's walls could not hold them back. I watched them murder her. When they turned their swords upon me, my father and yours finally returned and we escaped. A few seasons more of protecting our borders and my father fell to a Saxon sword; we buried him with my mother. I was eight summers old, but I swore the night I lost him that no Saxon would take another Briton's life when I grew to manhood."
Arthur released my wrist and grasped my hands in his. My skin buzzed in reply while his intense energy shot up through my palms and wrists. While Lancelot's presence soothed me, Arthur's enlivened me.
"The only thing I ever wanted was safety for the people of Britannia—so that no child would be left motherless again, so that every Briton could awake, knowing their loved one is still alive and at their side."
I blinked. Arthur only desires to protect?
"I will not force you to marry me, Guinevere. If you truly do not desire it, I will honor your position."
"But you—"
"Planned this? No. I wished for it. And I hoped you would return my affection and we could come to the arrangement equally, with the care of our people in our hands. I would never force it. What kind of a man would I be to force an alliance that dishonored the desire of my queen?"
"I…" No more words followed. They froze within my mind, leaving me unable to formulate a response. Had I misjudged him? The rhythm of my breath echoed in my ears and I realized how silent the air around us had become.
Arthur noted the peculiarity too, and yelled,
"How many of your men did you retain?" asked my father.
"Two dozen bowmen are stationed here, on the north wall. A couple dozen more with swords and spears surround us."
"My men guard the east, west and south gates and are positioned on each watchtower as well as the wall. As my successor, they are yours to command, Arthur."
Arthur nodded his acknowledgment. He turned, directing his speech to Lancelot. "Take the women to the king's hall and guard them there."
The knight nodded, but before he could direct us further, I interrupted, "No! I will not flee and cower while Camelaird is in danger. I will stay and help direct the fight."
"Daughter!" yelled my father, but Arthur cut in.
"And just how do you intend to help and not distract?"
"The right to protect my people is as much mine as it is yours."
Sir Lancelot pressed in behind me as if to signal my leave. A desire to sink backwards into him overwhelmed me. How easy it would be to allow him to escort me away, then protect me while I remained blinded to the events that would shape my father's future—indeed, the future of Camelaird, and perhaps the whole of Britannia. And how wrong it would be to allow myself that simple escape into the protection of a man I could barely resist.
Arthur stared wordlessly at me. His halo of bright curls dulled in the darkness, like a mass of ancient vines swirling on top his head. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. I started at the electricity of his touch—like lightning striking my skin—a curious opposition to the warmth Lancelot provided. I attempted to pull away, but the sensation of the sparks jolting my nerves held me in place.
"All I've ever wanted is the safety of all Britons."
"All you ever wanted was the crown of Camelaird," I slung back.
"You misunderstand, Guinevere."
His informal use of my name without the prefix of my title angered me and I fought to refrain from demanding adherence to proper decorum.
The edges of his mouth turned downward as he considered me. "My father, Uther, had sworn alliance to your father many years ago. They launched a campaign to wipe out the Saxons, so my father was gone for most of my childhood. When those murderous Saxon villains came upon us, my mother was alone. Even our stronghold's walls could not hold them back. I watched them murder her. When they turned their swords upon me, my father and yours finally returned and we escaped. A few seasons more of protecting our borders and my father fell to a Saxon sword; we buried him with my mother. I was eight summers old, but I swore the night I lost him that no Saxon would take another Briton's life when I grew to manhood."
Arthur released my wrist and grasped my hands in his. My skin buzzed in reply while his intense energy shot up through my palms and wrists. While Lancelot's presence soothed me, Arthur's enlivened me.
"The only thing I ever wanted was safety for the people of Britannia—so that no child would be left motherless again, so that every Briton could awake, knowing their loved one is still alive and at their side."
I blinked. Arthur only desires to protect?
"I will not force you to marry me, Guinevere. If you truly do not desire it, I will honor your position."
"But you—"
"Planned this? No. I wished for it. And I hoped you would return my affection and we could come to the arrangement equally, with the care of our people in our hands. I would never force it. What kind of a man would I be to force an alliance that dishonored the desire of my queen?"
"I…" No more words followed. They froze within my mind, leaving me unable to formulate a response. Had I misjudged him? The rhythm of my breath echoed in my ears and I realized how silent the air around us had become.
Arthur noted the peculiarity too, and yelled,
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