THE WARRIOR QUEEN (The Guinevere Trilogy Book 1) by Lavinia Collins

a bad one. I had not remembered the child until just then. I was not sure how I felt about that, either.
    “You have Kay and Ector close, still. And your mother the Lady Igraine seems kind.”
    “She is kind,” he replied. But she is not my mother , were his words unspoken. No, Sir Ector’s wife had raised him as a child. And I had not met her. She must be dead.
    “A man must face his destiny, and his God. A man must face these things, and try to be good.”
    I pushed myself up, resting my chin on my hands, folded on his chest and looked him in the eye. He had that simple sincerity about him. I could see, now, why the people followed this man, whom I had thought a boy. The serious eyes, the quiet sense of duty. No, last night in my anger I had seen truly only what I had expected. A boy. This morning, I did not doubt that he was a man, grown.
    I was about to say something, to try to say something adequate in response to his humble gravity, but he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was a deep, intense kiss, and when he grazed my bottom lip lightly with his teeth I felt it at the base of my spine. He pulled me on top of him as we kissed, wrapping his arms around me. He seemed to have an endless desire.
    “Arthur?” An insistent banging came from the door. Someone tried the latch. It was still bolted. Arthur pulled gently away and released his arms around me, but did not move. A wicked boyish smile played on his lips and he pressed one finger gently to my lips. “Arthur? Arthur?!”
    Then, with a splintering crack the door flew open. Arthur leapt from the bed, naked, swiftly out from beneath me, quick as a wildcat, already tensed to fight. I gathered the covers around me, my heart pounding in fear, blushing like a girl. I hated it when I blushed. I was a married women in my husband’s bed; I had no reason to be embarrassed. When Arthur saw who it was, he relaxed with a deep laugh, and across his face came the boyish smile that still betrayed his few years.
    “For God’s sake , Kay. The door was bolted . We were asleep.”
    “You were not asleep,” Kay replied peevishly, trying to prop the door back up in the space he had knocked it from. “How was I to know you hadn’t both been murdered in your sleep?”
    What he meant was I was sent to see if she had killed you in your sleep . Someone had their eye on me. Someone thought I might be dangerous. Last night, I was prepared to be.
    Kay was laughing too, now, at his king standing naked before him, who had somehow already got a sword in his hand. He is still afraid , I thought . The days of fighting were not long past. That sword must have been beside the bed all night long. I had not even noticed it. The new-finished war must have left its mark on all of them. King Arthur did not sleep so easy in his bed, nor did his knights shrug at a silent, locked bedroom. I had, foolishly, thought that war could have only scarred those who lost in it.
    “Don’t you know, Sir Kay , that it is terribly ill-mannered to burst in on the king and his queen abed?” It was the easy banter of brothers that he spoke to Kay with, his tone light and playful, but still when he noticed Kay’s eyes wandering towards the bed where I still lay, holding the sheets around me, Arthur sharply drew shut the bed curtains.
    “My liege,” Kay replied, with an easy, friendly, mocking tone. “Most apologies. You and my lady the queen are expected at mass in an hour.”
    “We shall attend.”
    Kay left, and I could hear Arthur shoving at the door, trying to get it back into place. I shuffled on my knees to the edge of the bed and peered through the curtains.
    “ Kay ,” Arthur muttered under his breath, indulgently annoyed, shaking his head to himself.
    “What is mass, Arthur?” I hoped mass was a meal. I could feel my stomach empty within me.
    Arthur froze in the doorway, and turned to look at me thoughtfully for a moment.
    “Your people aren’t Christians.” It wasn’t a question. I