I had found myself staring at Guinevere more and more with no recourse, watching the way her pulse would thrum in her neck during our few archery lessons, or how her honeysuckle scent would linger on my clothing long after I assisted with her form.
It was all, as she would mutter under her breath when she thought none were listening, fucked.
When I finally made it to the archery range, I lit a few of the torches to cut through the inky blackness of the night and let out a breath into the crisp air.
It was nearing summer now, but the evenings were still chilly. All I needed to do was fire off a few arrows to work through my frustration, that was it, and then I could go back inside and pretend as if I cared not for what was happening before my very eyes.
That I cared not if I was left behind as Guinevere and Arthur formed their pack.
Perhaps they would replace me with Merlin—Guinevere seemed to enjoy his presence more than mine after all these days. It would make sense for her to pick the wizard over me—I would not even inherit my father’s kingdom and had nothing to offer her.
I would not rule a kingdom like Arthur, nor could I soothe her feelings such as Gawain could. Not even my presence was as steadfast as Bedivere’s. That was something that could only come with age, and at this point, I would not be surprised if I fell in battle thanks to the constantly encroaching Saxons before I could prove my worth.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
As if my mind had physically conjured the omega up, I saw Guinevere step from behind a tree just as I was about to nock my first arrow wearing a dark cloak over the pale green dress she had been wearing at dinner.
I ignored her for a moment, pulling back the bowstring and sending the arrow off into the darkness. I cared not if I hit anything this night, nor would I be fetching the arrows until morning light came again, hopefully bringing clarity with it.
“I do not know what a penny is,” I told her simply as I grabbed another arrow. “Who told you I was out here?”
Guinevere nibbled on her lower lip, her hands wringing around the thick plait of hair that rested over her shoulder. “Vivienne.”
“She had no right to do so,” I growled, firing off another arrow.
Guinevere drew closer, bringing her mouthwatering scent right along with her. “She was worried about you.”
“So she chooses to send the object of my troubles to me?” I asked, biting out each word and filling them with the frustration I was feeling.
Guinevere reeled back away from me as if I had struck her.
“What have I ever done toyou?” Guinevere asked, her cheeks flushing with anger. “I’m not the one who has been rejecting people at every turn!”
I opened my mouth to speak but she held up a hand to stop me. “No! No more of this weird ass dancing around the point. We’re hashing it out here and now so you can stop being such a jackass.I’mthe one who was yanked out of my own time and told suddenly that I have a ‘fated’ pack where half of you can’t seem to even stand me let alone like me. I didn’t even want any of this in the first place, so why am I the one who has to feel bad about all of this!”
Guilt filled me as I realized her eyes were filled with tears, all of my earlier frustrations forgotten completely. “Guinevere—”
“Stop trying to talk over me!” Guinevere shouted, her voice echoing off of the tall trees around us. “I like you—though lord knows why when you seem to have two moods: angry or brooding—and I’mtiredof it. I came out here to check on you not to argue and you are being an ass!”
She stopped yelling, her chest heaving as she glared at me with narrowed brown eyes.
Then, after a few beats of silence, she gestured calmly to me. “Okay, your turn.”
I had nothing to say, nothing Icouldsay to such a thing. Vivienne’s words about my earlier staring were repeating in my mind over and over.
“Would…” I began, clearing my throat. “Would you like to shoot some arrows?”
Guinevere’s expression slackened with disbelief as she rolled her eyes at me.
“No, I don’t want to shoot some arrows,” she told me decisively. “But I want to do this.”
She reached out and grabbed the front of my tunic in her fist, dragging me forward, my feet stumbling through the dirt, until she was finally able to pull my lips to hers.
Her lips were soft like satin as they moved against mine and her honeysuckle scent invaded my nose stronger than ever as I finally gave into the impulse and wrapped my arms around her.
Guinevere tasted of rainfall and it took me a moment to realize that it was actually raining around us. It was easy to realize that her heightened emotions had triggered her magic, and if it had been anyone else, I would have felt discomfort of such a powerful display of something I did not understand.
But instead I inhaled a lungful of rain-soaked earth and fresh honeysuckle deep into my body.
