Only after that had occurred did Arthur tell us he had seen it in a cracked, misshapen dream. He couldn’t tell us much more than that he had seen a shadow killing his foster father and mother and that they bore the symbol of the Saxons who, up until that point, had been a distant threat from the mainland.
From there, I could count on the only hand I still possessed how many more of these dreams Arthur had been given and none of them had been good.
Such as the night before I lost my hand and nearly also lost my life. Arthur had dreamed of my death and tried to prevent it only for me to lose my hand and end my life as a knight instead.
Some would have argued that my lifehadended that day regardless of Arthur’s interference.
In the five years since, I had busied myself with relearning how to forge weapons—to make myself useful in some way even if I was no longer a warrior like Lancelot or even Gawain.
“What happened in these dreams, Arthur?” I asked, my insides seeming to tighten with anticipation.
“You were in it with me,” he told me solemnly before turning to Gawain and Lancelot, “As were the both of you.”
Then the sound of feminine laughter filled the courtyard, interrupting Arthur before he could elaborate on his dream, and we saw Guinevere exit the castle doors surrounded by her maids.
It seemed as if the omega out of time had grown used to castle life as she chatted and giggled with the women around her until her brown-eyed gaze reached our group from across the grass.
Her laughter abruptly cut off as Arthur spoke again. “She was in it too.”
His words were soft, almost reverent as he watched Guinevere turn away and hurry back into the castle, her maids in a flurry around her so she wouldn’t trip on the skirts of her dress in her haste.
“That does not mean we were all in her bed,” Lancelot spat as if the very idea of it was distasteful.
One of Arthur’s golden-red brows lifted in surprise at the vehemence in Lancelot’s words. “In my dream, you were the most fervent in your courtship of Princess Guinevere—though by that point she wore the crown of Camelot across her brow.”
“Impossible,” Lancelot scoffed in reply, though I could see his eyes twitching to the empty space she’d just occupied. “A king does not share his queen, an alpha does not share his omega. It goes against the very nature of things.”
“Even if the gods decree it as so?” I asked, my voice loud enough to make the other three men jump.
Arthur slanted a glance over at me, trying to measure my expression and his lips turning into a frown when he failed. We had known each other for nearly two decades and the king still had trouble trying to pick apart my inner thoughts by just a mere glance.
“Then what say you about all of this, Bedivere?” he asked outright, finally giving in.
I thought about it for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “I think that there are forces at work bigger than any of us—even you, my king,” I finally told him honestly.
Gawain snorted and rolled his blue eyes. “You dance around the answer as if it has nothing to do with you.”
He was partly right. I did not think any of this had to do with me. The gods had made mistakes before—hells there were entire ballads about the folly of the gods in the heavens creating chaos for their subjects below just because they had grown weary of the monotony of immortal life.
Who was to say that the gods weren’t doing this out of some desire to see the kingdom in turmoil when their beloved king went against the grain of what was acceptable and created apackas Merlin had called it.
I had no place in a pack such as that with three able-bodied alphas protecting an omega.
All I was good for at this juncture in my life was the wisdom I possessed after many years and my ability to polish a sword until it shone.
“And what of you, Gawain? Would you bed the king’s wife?” I snapped, irritated by the younger man’s inability to let me evade the question.
“Watch your tongue,” Arthur’s words were a warning, but he still looked to Gawain. “What would you do?”
Gawain’s face paled and he reached up to tug on one of the blond curls on his head, pulling it down before letting it spring back up as he contemplated his answer carefully.
“I took an oath to serve you, my king,” he said slowly. “And I would never do anything to break that oath… but may I ask you a question?”
Arthur nodded his head in acquiescence.
“Do you fancy her? The princess, I mean?”
Arthur blinked, clearly surprised by Gawain’s forthrightness which had always been, in my opinion, one of his best qualities.
