But instead of shooting back some quip that would make my lips turn up into a wry grin, she just shrugged her slender shoulders and fiddled with one of the curls that seemed to float around her head like a cloud of dark silk. “Are you? You’ve just married a stranger after all.”
The sweet scent of honeysuckle that wafted off of the omega soured slightly with her glum words.
“I was always destined to marry a stranger, Guinevere,” I told her softly as Gawain took center stage, grinning at the teasing from the other knights as he held up his prized lute and began a much sweeter song now.
The people who had been up and dancing about the center of the hall seemed to calm now, returning to their seats to listen with awe as Gawain showed off his true talent.
The lad was good with a sword—I had trained him myself—but when his fingers plucked at the string of his prized possession, every other thought seemed to fade away and every soul in whatever room he was in watched with enthralled interest.
“He’s good,” Gwen gasped next to me, changing the topic of discussion as her eyes remained fixed on the man in front of us and her expression changed into something lighter—softer even.
I lifted up my goblet, taking a sip of the too-sweet mead as I watched her profile, my eyes taking in the slender curve of her jaw and her little nose.
Before, when we had spoken, I had not taken the chance to survey my soon-to-be bride and now I used her distraction to take in my fill of her.
She was beautiful in a way that differed from the women in my time. While the women of my time were of gentler stock, everything about Guinevere seemed sturdy and strong. She was also taller than many of the other maidens standing nearly a head taller than her maids despite her omega nature.
Her skin was also a different shade than many of the other women—a light shade of brown as if she had been personally kissed by the sun itself.
Feeling the heaviness of my gaze, Guinevere’s eyes were drawn away from Gawain’s performance and back to me once more.
We stared at each other, neither one ready to be the first to break the tension and I realized she was unlike anything I had ever laid my eyes on. Something deep inside of me was pleased and satisfied that she would be my queen and my mate.
Mine, it growled as if anyone would dare to take her away from me.
Then Bedivere’s head was leaning in between us and for just a split second I wanted to grab him and shove him out of the way for moving in between myself and the woman who was my bride.
But even as the instinctual urge to possess my omega filled me it seemed to evaporate as quickly as it had come as soon as my eyes met Bedivere’s much calmer gaze.
“What?” Even still, my words came out sharp as I sat up straight and worked to calm myself down before repeating my question again in a much softer tone than before. “What is it?”
“It grows late, your majesty,” he murmured, seeming unfazed by my outburst, “and there is talk of escorting you and your bride to the bridal chambers.”
In the craze of preparations I had nearly forgotten all about the most important part of the wedding, what would seal Guinevere and me together as husband and wife—as alpha and omega.
The consummation.
When I found Guinevere standing alone in that corridor the night of her arrival I had told her she would be my wife in all ways and I had meant it—but now my mouth seemed to become sticky as if I had poured an entire jar of molasses into it.
Bedivere waited for me to speak, his eyes seeming to understand as he gave me time to come to my own conclusions about how I felt about the situation at hand.
He had been one of my strongest allies on the battlefield, that much was true, but his time as my advisor had been even more helpful as I took steps to become a king without Merlin’s counsel after his disappearance.
I could rely on the older alpha to be honest with me—just as he had been when he didn’t immediately reject Merlin’s portent and instead offered wisdom outside of natural reaction as Lancelot, Gawain, and myself had been prone to.
“What do you wish for me to do, your majesty?”
Leaning forward slightly, I found Gwen’s eyes still on me, though they were rounded now as she realized what Bedivere’s words meant for us.
She was not chaste. She had told me as much that night. In many ways it would make this much easier.
“You may gather the men,” I finally told him and watched as he gave me a resolute nod before slipping away.
“What’s happening?” She asked her head whipping around to follow Bedivere’s imposing figure as he whispered something to her father who nodded and clapped his hands together loud enough to cut through the music and bring silence to the great hall.
“It is time for the bride and her groom to retire for the evening!”
A roar of approval came from the gathered crowd before the sound of the scrape of bench seats scraping on the stone floor filled the room.
