While Camelot shared the massive lake with Cameliard, it was an altogether different castle that seemed to glow in the late-afternoon sunlight.
It was a stone fortress that was backed up against the craggy mountain that shadowed the low valley. The harshness of the stone was offset by the many stained-glass windows that sparkled in what looked like a greeting.
When Arthur first settled in Castle Camelot, no one had lived within its walls for nearly twenty years and all of the windowshad been smashed in by looters or the stray vagabond looking to use the cavernous place for their own refuge.
Over the past decade, Arthur had made great strides to make the castle a home and a jewel on his crown.
He was meant to be the king of kings and his home reflected that for all who visited to sell their wares or offer their services.
Outside of the high walls of the castle lay a sprawling village that seemed to grow with each passing month as refugees from the various burned out villages settled in and became a part of our little paradise.
Farmlands branched out from there, leading up to the foot of the hill that our horses stood upon.
The winds around us picked up, tugging at our clothes and whipping Guinevere’s dark curls into a frenzy as she fought to hold them out of her eyes so she could continue to look at the place that would be her new home and where she would rule beside Arthur as his queen.
“It’s…” she trailed off, her voice almost reverent.
“It is Camelot,” Lancelot provided for her, his voice softening. “The place where all of those who had no land to call their own come and the place for Arthur, king of kings, to hold his court.”
“I didn’t expect it to be sopretty,”Guinevere said, her eyes wide.
It seemed as if the entire world around us was waking up to greet her with the wind dancing around us and even the sun coming out from behind the gray clouds it had been hiding behind all day to shine warm rays of light onto our skin. Overhead, a falcon screeched, underpinning the splendor of the moment as we all took in the full view of the kingdom.
“As opposed to what, your majesty?” I could not help but ask, curious what she thought about Camelot, the place that was more home to me than any place I had ever lived previously.
Her shoulders rose in a shrug, the tattered sleeve of her dress dipping down to reveal the dirty linen shift beneath. “Aren’t castles supposed to be, I don’t know, imposing? Dark? Built for defense?”
“Make no mistake, your majesty,” Gawain, who had been dutifully silent for the entire morning chimed in, shifting little Henry forward in their shared saddle so he could turn to speak to Guinevere, “Despite its pretty windows and gleaming lake, Camelot has seen more than its fair share of battles. In fact, I hear that the year his majesty moved in ten and five years ago that his castle was besieged by another tribal king who did not heed the words of the gods and was sent flying from the land after the knights caught his men unawares in some of the more narrow parts of the castle.”
If we allowed Gawain to keep talking we would be sitting atop this hill until suppertime, so I gave Evefir’s flank a kick and spurred the horse into motion. “Come, while the view from up here is quite lovely, I am certain his majesty is eager to see you again.”
“I don’t know about that,” I heard Guinevere mumble, but I ignored her in favor of keeping my eye on the distant castle.
All we needed to do was get back to Camelot, then the lines that had been blurred over the past few days would be redrawn and I would be reminded of my place in this world.
I would be alone once more—just how it always should have been.
Chapter Eighteen
“What do you mean his majesty has not returned yet?” Lancelot snapped at the man he was talking to. The alpha had seemingly forgotten me completely as he jumped from his horse, leaving Gawain to help me down from the massive stallion.
I looked shabby, I knew it, and everyone gathered in the stone courtyard knew it. Several people were whispering behind their hands, staring at my disheveled appearance.
“Thatis our queen?” I heard someone murmuring to my left but when I glanced over every person standing around us was studiously avoiding my gaze.
“No, he sent word a few days ago that he would be behind schedule but we have not heard anything since,” the man he was talking to said with a shrug as he scratched his deep red facial hair. He looked to be the jolly type—the kind of manwho laughed easy and deep at the slightest provocation. “I just assumed that he had found himself in trouble on his way back to Camelot.”
Lancelot just put his face in his hands. “Sir Kay, did you not even think of sending a pigeon in return?”
The man shrugged. “You know how Arthur is almost as well as I, Lancelot, do you think the king would have taken kindly to being minded by his brother?”
Lancelot just made a face before turning back to his horse. “I will go out in the direction they were meant to come in and see if I can assist.”
Bedivere reached out to stop him. “We have just returned to the castle, Sir Lancelot, your horse needs to be fed and rested before you go gallivanting off into the sunset again.”
Lancelot looked as if he wanted to argue with the older alpha, his fist tightening on Sarion’s reins before unclenching as he finally nodded his agreement. “Fine, but if they have not returned by first light tomorrow I expect you to go with me to find them.”
Bedivere’s frown was deep but still he nodded. “As you wish.”
