Nother, not anyone.
I had not sacrificed everything—my youth, my ideals, my soul—to build this kingdom only to watch it crumble because I couldn't master my own base instincts.
Shehad made me lose control.Shehad awakened hungers I'd thought long buried, needs that had no place in a king's life. The volatility of my desire for her was proof of how dangerous she was—not just to my realm, but to the man I'd fought so hard to become.
She is our fire.
I could still taste her on my lips, still feel the phantom pressure of her body against mine. I could feel the hardness of her nipples, the tightness of her cunt as her walls stretched around my fingers.
The memories will fade,I told myself. They had to. But the knowledge that she could affect me so completely, could strip away my composure with nothing more than her presence, would linger far longer.
This was why magic was dangerous. Not just for the destruction it could wreak on cities or armies, but for what it could do to a man's soul. Because I was convinced that was exactly what this was—the deception of a witch. She had enchanted me without even trying, made me forget everything I stood for.
No.
My jaw tightened as I gathered the last shreds of my composure around me like armor and forced the dragon's constant arguments down. The desire I felt for her—this overwhelming, irrational need—was not true; it wasn't real. It was just another weapon in her arsenal, another reason she represented everything I'd spent my reign fighting against.
She needs to be put to death.
The thought entered my mind and at first, it was unwelcome. Until I really considered it.
With her death, she will no longer be able to wield this magic over you. You'll be released from this blind need you have for her.
YOU WILL NOT HARM HER!
Yes, a threat eliminated.
She was chaos disguised as beauty, disorder wearing the mask of a goddess—every curve and angle of her face designed to unravel everything I'd built. Even now, with her safely locked away in the dungeons below, I could still feel the phantom warmth of her skin against mine, could still taste the sweetness of her mouth that had nearly driven me to madness.
Go to her,the dragon whispered, its voice a low rumble of satisfaction in my chest.Mark her. Bend her. Mate her.
"No."
One touch, one kiss, and Arthur Pendragon, the king, had dissolved into nothing more than a man consumed by carnal need. The control I'd spent decades perfecting, the iron discipline that had carried me through countless battles and political machinations, had crumbled like sand the moment her lips met mine.
No. She was a danger I couldn't afford. A danger I couldn't permit to live.
This was what made her so terrifyingly effective. Not just her magic, though she possessed that in abundance. It was her ability to strip away every layer of protection I'd built around myself, to reach past the crown and the armor and the carefully constructed walls. It was that she'd touched the man I'd buried beneath.
That made her more dangerous than any army Merlin could field against me. Because while I could defend against external threats, I had no defense against the enemy within myself.
As I turned away, one truth crystallized in my mind: Guinevere was not just Merlin's daughter or a threat to my kingdom. She was a threat to my soul. And that made her the most dangerous enemy I'd ever faced.
-KAY-
What a gift,I thought to myself.Landed right on my doorstep.
I remained motionless behind the jagged outcropping beside the lake, my breathing shallow, my body carved from stone. Only when the last vestiges of Arthur's and thenLancelot's footsteps faded beyond the treeline did I allow myself to move.
When Lancelot had abruptly abandoned the festivities in the Great Hall—his smile replaced by something darker, more urgent—I followed him out into the night air, my curiosity piqued. The revelry behind us had grown louder, more raucous as the ale flowed freely, but something in his sudden departure suggested purpose beyond a simple need for fresh air.
I tracked him through the winding corridors and out beyond the castle walls, keeping to the shadows as we made our way toward this very lake. But then he quickened his pace, following someone else entirely—Arthur, I realized with growing interest, who had himself been pursuing the young knight who called herself Lioran. The chain of hunters became hunted, each following the other through the moonlit forest paths like some elaborate dance of deception.
Once we reached the shores of the lake, Lancelot melted into the dense foliage that bordered the water's edge like a wraith, vanishing so completely that I couldn't pinpoint his exact location among the twisted willows and ancient oaks. But his precise whereabouts were irrelevant the moment my eyes fell upon the true prize before me.
All that mattered—all that would irrevocably change the delicate balance of power within Camelot's walls—was the intimate tableau unfolding before me now—between the king and the duplicitous whore.
I could not say what had gone on before—I had only arrived once the king already had the whore spread out before him, eager and awaiting his cock. And he had said her name—Guinevere. One more piece of the puzzle I filed away. But then he pulled his fingers from her, and rage overtook his features once he realized she was no longer a maiden.
