“Not any fun?” He clicked his tongue. “I don’t love you because you’re fun. I love you because I love you.”
Her heart was so full that it felt on the edge of bursting. “It’s that simple, hm?”
“Yes,” he said. He leaned back into the pillows. “And for your power and clout, obviously.”
She snorted.
“But I did abandon you, Guinna.” Something minuscule shifted in his voice, and his eyes glazed as if his mind were someplace else before he shook himself from whatever memory had taken him. “You never should have been left alone last night. I’ll do whatever I must to keep you safe. I will be your personal bodyguard every minute of every day.”
Vera’s heart sank. “I know you’re trying to help, but that sounds horrible. Needing constant protection is the last thing I want.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes searched her face. “What can I do?”
“I’d rather learn to protect myself.”
Lancelot’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin as he tipped his head to the side. “I can teach you that. I’m actually really good at that.”
“All right,” Vera said. “That settles it.”
She hadn’t meant for him to begin that very moment, but he launched into brainstorming aloud how he might structure Vera’s training plan with the king’s guard. That was how Arthur found them when he came in: sitting in bed, shoulder to shoulder, engrossed in conversation.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, sounding like he earnestly meant it. Even after last night’s revelations, Vera was astonished by how unfazed Arthur was at seeing them together. But the thought stumbled to a screeching halt as she saw Gawain trailing behind him.
“Goodness,” Lancelot said. “Someone should invite Percival and Matilda, and we’ll have ourselves a proper party!”
“Please refrain,” Gawain said. “I am here to heal the queen, which should be a private matter. I would prefer if you left as well.”
Lancelot grinned. “Understood. I should go join training, anyway.” He kissed the top of Vera’s head before he slid off the bed, nodded to Arthur, and clapped Gawain on the shoulder on his way out. The mage rolled his eyes, but Vera caught the start of his smile.
Arthur sat at the bedside with Gawain standing next to him, ready to start the healing at Vera’s thigh. But the moment Gawain’s hand touched her nightgown’s hem, she felt like she was on the chapel floor. She could see Thomas’s ravenous eyes, could hear the tearing of her dress from hem to waist, could smell his sweat as if he was on top of her.
“No.” She gasped the word as she pinned the nightgown down to her sides with shaking fingers. All at once, Vera’s throat tightened, and her heart pounded.
Gawain took a step back.
Her breath rattled in. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I—” She reached for Arthur, and he was there, taking her hand. “I was fine when Arthur bandaged them.”
“That’s understandable,” Gawain said in his deadpan way, though he spoke quieter. “The body’s memory is more powerful than the mind. Your body remembers His Majesty, even if your mind does not.”
She bit the inside of her cheeks and avoided looking at Arthur.
“I don’t have any other obligations,” Gawain said. “We need not hurry. Move your nightclothes how you need to, and His Majesty can help remove the bandages. Tell me when you’re ready.” He looked at her with something akin to softness before he turned his back and took a few steps away.
Arthur’s hands brought only comfort. He helped remove the bandage dressings, and his eyebrows shot up as he inspected her wounds. Both incision points were raw and open, but neither bled. “These aren’t as bad as I expected. I must have been more panicked last night than I realized.”
Vera called Gawain back.
“I’ll start at your thigh first and will need to touch the edges of your wound,” he said, waiting until she nodded to proceed. He did all of it that way, telling her precisely what he was doing as he went. She’d not expected his sensitive bedside manner. But it did help.
“The shoulder and leg are both stab wounds?” he asked as he ran his thumb over the open cut just under her collarbone.
“Yes,” Vera said.
“Hm.” Gawain frowned as he folded his hands in front of him and stared at a spot on the blanket next to Vera’s knee.
The silence lengthened. Vera and Arthur shared a glance. “Is there a problem?” Arthur said, but Gawain looked up at the same time.
“No. I can heal these.” He reached toward her thigh more slowly. “It will be uncomfortable, but it should not hurt.”
