Aided by Gawain’s magic, they moved the bodies to the edge of the wood while Merlin prepared to ride ahead to the town. He’d check for more hexes and go on to Oxford to prepare the mages for their arrival.
He looked at Vera from astride his horse, his expression resolved with dread. “There’s no turning back now.”
Vera wasn’t sure what she could say to him. “Thank you for saving us.”
He breathed a sigh. “I would never abandon you, Your Majesty.”
She expected shame to rise at his loyalty and more so at the path that Vera had condemned them to with her choice, but it did not.
As Merlin disappeared down the road, Arthur walked his horse in a wide loop to help calm the beast and Gawain hovered near Lancelot.
Lancelot’s expression broke from the drawn anguish that had been fixed there since the fight ended. He chuckled. “You want to heal that, don’t you?” he said, glancing at the cut on his arm.
“Very much,” Gawain said. He launched into it immediately.
Lancelot grinned over his head at Vera. “We’re lucky. Healing gifts are extremely rare.”
Gawain’s face reddened in the midst of his focus. “Mine aren’t good for much more than cuts and scrapes,” he said as he rubbed the wound the way he had with Vera’s. But he glanced up at her for a breath before he added, “There are greater healing gifts out there, but I am fortunate.”
“It’s the gift he was born with,” Lancelot said as Gawain shut his eyes in concentration and hissed, “Shh!”
Lancelot’s grin broadened. He tilted his head down and touched his forehead to Gawain’s, as close to a hug as he could manage with his arm occupied by healing magic. Gawain’s cheeks reddened. He fought not to smile and lost the battle, staring up at Lancelot with an intimate sort of adoration.
And in that instant, Vera understood what she’d been missing all along. That wasn’t just friendship. The night at the Yule festival when Vera thought Lancelot had been off in the field with a girl, hadn’t Gawain been right there on the edge of the light, too? The way she and Lancelot ran less after that. The way Gawain and Lancelot were nearly always together.
Holy shit. Now that she’d seen it, it was obvious. And a selfish pang followed. Lancelot was her best mate. She wished he’d told her.
Vera rode back to town with Arthur on his horse, and Lancelot rode with Gawain. She made herself resist looking over at them every few minutes. It was the least she could do; this wasn’t a story she was meant to know.
The soldiers were ready when they arrived. Tristan took it in turns to bear hug them on their return. Vera pulled away from the embrace quickly.
They needed to get moving. Arthur wanted an audience with the mages as soon as they arrived in Oxford, the sense of peril more imminent a threat than ever before. Gawain hung back with Vera while she mounted her horse. She could never tell if he wanted to talk or had simply chosen the area near her to stand.
“There’s more to what you know of Mordred, isn’t there?” he asked.
“He kills Arthur.” She said the words so quietly that, at first, she thought Gawain hadn’t heard her.
He stared away at the others and said, “I’m glad we’re taking action to thwart him.”
“What if it’s the wrong action?” Vera asked.
“Because Mordred may have set hexes to come after you?”
“Whatever I know, it must be vital. It was selfish not to do Merlin’s spell work if it would have given you that advantage. That has to be the most strategic course of action.”
“I disagree. Lancelot told me what happened with Merlin this morning,” he said. “Merlin is far too intent on what is locked within you, Guinevere.” He fixed her with a piercing stare. “There is more in you than memory.”
The skin on the back of her neck prickled. “What do you mean?”
Gawain stared into the distance for a long time before speaking. “I’m glad you refused and that you’re safe.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Vera said. “You do that a lot, you know. And I am well aware that it is deliberate.”
He gave a quiet chuckle and then a long sigh. “Don’t underestimate what you might have to offer.” His words were slow as if he was choosing them carefully.
Vera thought back to how he’d referred to Grady as an inhuman specimen, yet here he was, facing a dire situation and answering it with compassion.
“Why are you protecting me?” she asked.
