The names they were throwing about sounded familiar, as if I had known them my entire life. But where had I heard them before?
Many people believe this pantheon to be fake or an offshoot of Celtic lore,my mother’s voice echoed through my mind,but I believe they are very real, my little Guinevere.
“Oh look,” the second voice—Rhiannon—said as she ignored Bran completely before gasping, “all of your hemming and hawing seems to have started to wake her up.”
“Though he may be loud, it is not Bran who is responsible for the child’s awakening,” Arianhrod said, her voice so soft that, for some reason, I wanted to cry. “Child, it is time to wake up, your destiny awaits amongst the flames.”
I jerked upright with a ragged gasp, my eyes flying open into near darkness as hands steadied me.
“Gwen?” Gawain’s soft voice seemed to pull me completely back into the world of the living as the icy clutches of my dream still lingered in my shivering limbs.
“What time is it?” I asked groggily, wiping at my wet cheeks. Something had made me cry, I realized with a frown as I stared at my shining fingers in the dim light.
“Darkness has only just fallen, the king has decided for us to ride through the night rather than camp.”
I frowned. “Why? Is it usual for you guys to push through the night after an entire day of riding?”
I turned to face him and found his face to be grave—a far cry from the soft puppy-dog expression he’d worn before I went to sleep. The sweet Gawain seemed to have disappeared completely for the moment and in his place was a seasoned warrior who was on the alert.
“Gawain? Tell me what it is you’re trying to hide.”
Gawain let out a sigh of surrender before pointing over my shoulder to whatever was in front of us. I followed his gloved finger and gasped at what I saw.
We were no longer in the dense forest that surrounded Cameliard. Instead, Arthur’s entire company had lined up on the crest of a hill that overlooked a valley.
And in that valley there were several villages dotting the grassy hills, surrounded by farmland.
In any other circumstance I was sure they would look picturesque. Like something someone would make a puzzle out of or hang up in their farm-decorated kitchens.
But instead of looking adorable like that, the villages dotting the ancient English countryside in front of me were all on fire.
“Move forward!” Arthur’s booming voice made me jump as he spurred his massive horse forward.
“Are we going down there?” I asked, my voice squeaky with worry as I felt my stomach twist with sudden unease. My instincts were telling me that danger was afoot and that I wanted to be as far away from it as possible.
“We look for survivors, your majesty,” Gawain said, suddenly sounding far away from the sweet alpha that had been taking care of me all day. “And then we must bury the dead.”
I swallowed hard as he turned his horse in the direction of the first burning village, knowing I was about to see the true horrors that this time in history had to offer and I was about to witness them first hand.
Chapter Thirteen
When I first tasted the smoke on the air I was studiously attempting to ignore the way Guinevere looked resting against Gawain’s chest.
With her eyes closed, my new queen looked almost serene—a far cry from the fluttering, angry omega that had scolded me in the early hours this morning.
I had awoken first and stared at her snuggled naked in my arms in much the same way as I was looking at her now and had even spent more time winding her dark curls around my fist. Despite the liveliness of her hair, the strands had still felt silky smooth when I rubbed them between my forefinger and thumb.
For a while, it felt as if I had achieved a true level of calm and peace that was rare for a man such as I. My heartbeat was slow, the sun was filtering in through the window, and Guinevere’s honeysuckle scent was thoroughly marking my skin.
Then her eyelashes had fluttered and her brown eyes had opened and she smiled sleepily at me, her body still heavy as she rested her chin on my chest.
It had nearly driven me to the brink not to pull her mouth to mine and once again revel in the too-soft skin and little gasps that I could pull from the omega as I brought her to the stars and back.
Never before had I been so keen to please a woman—but feeling the clench of her around my knot had been life changing.
But before I could kiss my new bride and sheathe myself inside of her again, her dark brows had drawn together and she asked if I had bitten her.
Confused, I replied that of course I had bitten her and sealed the bond. That was what marriage was.
