-GUIN-
As we trudged through the dense undergrowth of the Whispering Wilds, fat drops of rain began to plunk against the leaves, coming softly at first but soon escalating into a downpour.
The sky darkened with oppressive clouds, their undersides swollen with rain. The chill of the storm soaked through my armor, but I embraced it, allowing the water to renew my energy, my entire being.
The hunt had proven interesting in more ways than one. The creatures we'd tracked demanded focus, strategy, and coordination—all things I'd trained for. But the real challenge walked beside me in black armor.
I didn't know what to make of Lancelot. One moment he'd offer guidance, positioning himself to allow me the killing blow on the ankheg. The next, he'd snap at me for some minor misstep, his jaw tight with frustration that seemed directed less at my mistake and more at something internal.
I couldn't decipher it.
Perhaps he sensed my attraction to him—the way my gaze lingered too long on the line of his shoulders, the flex of muscle beneath wet leather. Maybe it unsettled him, bothered him. The thought twisted in my gut. If he suspected anything about me, even that Lioran desired men, it could destroy everything.
Still, I couldn't stop myself from stealing glances at him. He just was—easily the most handsome man I'd ever seen. So large and powerful. Just so—masculine. He was everything I was not—and I wasn't referring to Lioran, but Guin.
Rain streamed down the sharp planes of his face, darkening his hair to midnight. I had to fight the urge to reach out and push some of the strands away from his eyes. Instead, I forced my attention back to the mud and vegetation surrounding us, which was now growing heavy with rain.
The final creature awaited us, and as I glanced at the lone glass orb nestled in my pack, I tightened my grip on the straps. This hunt, our task, had become more than a trial of strength. It danced on the edge of partnership. Camaraderie. It was what happened when you faced death side by side, when you saw one another stripped bare of pretensions.
The thunder rumbled, closer now.
Just as I started wondering how much longer we could endure the relentless assault of the rain that soaked through every layer of clothing, the mouth of a cave appeared through the gray curtain of the storm. It was nestled between jutting rocks that rose from the forest floor, their surfaces slick and treacherous with moss and streaming water. The opening yawned before us like a blessed sanctuary, dark and inviting against the wild fury of the tempest.
Lancelot noticed the cave as well. Neither of us said a word, but we both hurried toward its shelter with the urgency born of desperation, our boots slipping on rain-slicked stones andtangled roots that threatened to send us sprawling. My heart pounded with more than just exertion—it hammered with the knowledge that I would soon be alone with Lancelot in the intimate confines of stone and shadow.
You can't think that way, Guin,I reminded myself.He believes you to be a man, and what's more, he is your enemy!
So why didn't he feel like my enemy?
The cave welcomed us with a cool, damp embrace, its air thick with the scent of earth and moss. Stalactites dripped from the ceiling like the fangs of some sleeping beast, their points gleaming with the reflected glow of distant lightning.
The cavern stretched deeper than I had imagined at first glance, the darkness yawning away from the dancing echoes of the storm outside. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed the walls shimmered with veins of crystalline minerals, their surfaces smooth.
“We’re lucky we found this cave in time,” I said, trying to look anywhere but at Lancelot’s face as we moved further into the cave’s narrow maw.
It wasn’t the thunder that unsettled me. It was being trapped here with him—after a hunt that had bound us with a kind of synchronicity I hadn’t expected. Something about moving alongside him, attuned to his breath and step, had unlocked a strange pull inside me that I didn’t understand. And now, with no distractions left, I could feel that pull magnifying.
Yes, it was foolish. And yes, I understood that. But no matter how much I told myself exactly that, I couldn't keep my heart from fluttering every time he looked at me.
Rain pounded the forest floor outside, creating a curtain of water that isolated us from the world. I could smell the earthiness of his leather armor, the faint metallic tang of his weapons. He was close enough that I could see the scar along his jawline, usually hidden by stubble and shadow.
Lancelot was exceedingly handsome. That much had always been clear. I’d noticed it the moment I'd arrived at Camelot. But noticing something from a distance and being enclosed with it were entirely different things. In this cave, the hard planes of his face caught the dim light filtering through the rain, highlighting cheekbones that could have been carved from marble and eyes that held storms of their own—deep and fathomless as the lake he was named for.
Being with him here now, huddled in this intimate space where the world had narrowed to just us two—it seemed like fate somehow—like it was meant to be. And yet, it wasn't meant to be because the two of us were enemies; he just didn't know that. And hopefully, he never would.
Yet, I was struggling to even think of him in such a way. Not after everything he'd told me about himself and shown me in his actions. And I liked the man he was showing me, this version of Lancelot unarmored by bravado and court performance.
You can't afford to like him,I reminded myself.
My mission required detachment, not the warmth spreading through my chest as his gaze held mine with unexpected gentleness.
I’d watched him from afar for weeks—all power, poise, and precision. But here in this shelter, the distance between legend and man seemed to dissolve. He wasn’t just Arthur’s champion. He was a man who looked at me like I was something strange and worth deciphering. And I didn’t know what to do with that. Especially because he thought me a man.
To distract myself, I raised my hand and called droplets from the rain at the cave’s mouth. Water responded as it always did—eager, familiar. I shaped it into small figures that danced and spun between my fingers. It was a calming trick, one I’d used for years to manage nerves I never showed. As for why hewas making me anxious? I couldn't say. For all he knew, I was just another knight trying to serve his king.
His gaze caught the movement, and he leaned forward slightly.
"That's beautiful." His voice had none of the roughness I'd come to expect. It was reverent, almost. "Most water mages I've known treat their magic like a weapon: flood this, freeze that. But you treat it like... like a conversation."
