That had been the wrong answer that had led to our quarrel in front of my men and my off-handed order for her to ride with Gawain instead of myself.
A command that I very swiftly regretted when I saw them conversing in relative comfort.
It should not have made me as envious as it did. Merlin’s portent had hovered in the back of my mind ever since he first revealed his fated plan for me and my so-called-packmates.
Even still, hearing Guinevere’s comfortable laughter with the younger alpha had nearly made me draw up alongside them and drag my omega into the saddle with me.
My inner-alpha was just as conflicted. It had always liked Gawain, as did I. I felt responsible for the lad who craved the attention and affection that he had sorely lacked in the house of his father.
A feeling I understood well.
Sir Ector and Lady Anne had done their utmost to make me feel as if I was a part of their little family, but it was always clear that I had not come from their bloodline.
Kay, my foster brother, was their son and their pride and joy. He looked like a sweet mix of both of his parents whereas I was told that I must have resembled my real father.
Years later when we took the castle of Uther Pendragon, the paintings of the man on the wall had unfortunately confirmed as much.
However, no matter how much I pitied Gawain, when I saw how Guinevere looked reclined against his chest as if she belonged there? To him?
It made my chest heat up with a confusing mix of envy, jealousy, and regret about an action that was as natural to alphas and omegas as breathing. It confused me as to why she was angry with me—did omegas and alphas not bond in the future?
“Your majesty!” The sharp cry of one of my men ripped me out of my thoughts and I jerked my head in the direction of the noise.
One of my bannermen was pointing to something on the dark horizon and as soon as my gaze followed his hand, my blood turned cold.
There, in the distance, were several blazes reaching for the skies. The lands in between Camelot and Cameliard were dotted with small villages and hamlets where farmers and other craftsmen tended to gravitate towards.
Now, nearly every one seemed to have been set ablaze.
And there was only one reason that I could conjure as to why that would be.
“The Saxons,” Merlin’s gasp was loud enough that I wheeled around to face the wizard who was staring at the blaze with his mouth agape.
“Did you not foresee this?” I asked grimly.
The wizard shook his head fiercely. “I am not omniscient, Arthur. I only see what the gods want me to see and they never showed me this.”
“Your majesty,” Bedivere cut into our conversation and dropped his voice low so that he could speak to me somewhat privately. “The men are asking for your orders.”
I frowned, considering our options. We could either move around the razed villages and continue on our way to Camelot,orwe could head down into the villages and see if there were any survivors left after the Saxon’s destruction.
It would not be the first time that I had brought refugees back to Camelot with me and my people were accustomed to helping each other…
But then I glanced back at Guinevere who was rubbing at her sleepy eyes.
Danger, my inner-alpha whispered, cautioning against bringing my vulnerable omega to any place that could put her in harm’s way.
“Your majesty?” Bedivere pressed, reminding me that I was not just Guinevere’s alpha. There was no world where I could ever be just that—not when I had my kingdom and my people to think about.
Yanking on my reins, I pulled Llamrei around in the direction of the first flaming hamlet. “Move forward!”
The sound of thundering hoofbeats followed me as Llamrei tore down the hill. The massive stallion always itched to be able to gallop at full speed and he tossed his head with it and let out a loud bugle that seemed to echo off of the heavens as he pulled out ahead of the rest of the group with ease.
As we neared, I did not recognize the village as this was a different route from the one we took to travel to Cameliard, but it did not look unlike the villages we had passed through on the other side of the lake.
Groupings of homes sat facing one another with their farm lands spiraling out around the little hamlet in a circle. Oftentimes the people living in these villages relied on oneanother to help till their soil and plant their crops, sharing in the fruits of their labor during harvest time.
And now all of the hard work that these people had put in was on fire as groups of dazed, sooty people seemed to mill about and only their sobs could be heard over the crackle of the burning structures around them.
