If I was just a knight that would be of no consequence—it would actually make me a deadlier fighter—however I was not just a knight. I was a king and kings were meant to keep a level head, so the alpha rage was to be kept at bay.
That same logic was escaping me completely now, though, as I clicked my tongue and hurried Llamrei faster, spurred on by my need to see her again.
My surroundings became a blur after that and soon enough Llamrei was skidding to a stop in front of the drawbridge which was just barely starting to lower.
“The king is back!”
Those were the first words I heard as the crowd of people awaiting me in the courtyard began to cheer.
“Where are the rest of the men?” someone asked as I entered the courtyard where Kay was awaiting our arrival.
“I was wondering if those Saxons had finally taken you out,” Kay greeted me with an uproarious laugh as one of the squires who lived in the castle hurried to bring the mounting block to help me get down.
Normally, I would have completely refused to use such things, whether by foolish pride or to show that I was an able-bodied king, but at the moment every bit of my body felt as if it had been run over by wild horses and then lit on fire for good measure.
“Not this time, Brother,” I told him tiredly as my feet finally met the ground and my knees nearly gave out. “Though I am certain I have brought worse home with me than some mere Saxons from the battlefield.”
Kay’s grin dropped, his red brows drawing together in confusion, but before he was able to ask me what my words meant, a blur of an omega was throwing herself into my arms.
“You’re here!” Guinevere gasped, seemingly oblivious to my groan of pain as her arms wrapped around my middle.
Despite our last meeting ending in an argument, relief flowed through me like a river as I cradled the omega and inhaled her scent deeply. She smelled of sweet honeysuckle and like the mineral baths from inside of the castle it was clear she had run straight from one as her dark hair was still wet as she pressed her forehead into my chest.
I let myself remain still for a moment as the previously darkened bond seemed to snap back into place again just as strong as it had been the night I put it on her neck. Our shared relief was palpable, which cheered me as it meant that we had felt the same way during our few days apart.
“Your hair is wet,” I murmured, running a hand along the back of her head. “You will catch your death.”
“And you’re hurt, so I guess we’ll both just have to perish,” Guinevere shot back, looking up at me for the first time since she had flown into my arms. She must have also felt the ache of pain I was feeling through our shared bond.
There was an uncertainty in her features that told me that she did not know what to do or to think. We were husband and wife, but I could count on one hand the number of times we had been alone together.
Even still, my inner-alpha was content now that our omega was back in our arms and she seemed unharmed, for now that would be enough.
The sound of approaching horses filled my ears as the rest of my men caught up with me and the surrounding people in the courtyard, reminding me that I was not truly alone with Guinevere at this moment and I could not pull her into a kiss as I so desired to do.
“Neither of us will perish today, little queen,” I said as I released her from my arms and instead brought her to my side to greet the men and the impromptu guests they were bringing along with them. “I wish I could just take you inside and ravish you, but I am afraid we will be playing hosts to some… less than enthused guests that we found on our way here.”
Guinevere’s brown eyes shot to my face, confusion rippling down the bond as the rumble of hooves on wood echoed off of the high walls of the courtyard.
Merlin, leading the way, rode in on his mare, looking more haggard than he had this morning because he used what little magic he possessed to cover our trail from the Saxons.
“My king,” he greeted me as he slid off of his horse and nearly crumpled into the dirt, only his grip on the pommel of his saddle kept him upright as he turned to Guinevere. “My queen.”
“Did our guests make it safely into Camelot?” I asked, my voice laced with false-politeness.
Merlin grimaced visibly. “Yes,fortunatelythey are bringing up the rear.”
The wizard muttered something under his breath and I did not need to ask him to speak up to know what it was.
These guests had been making themselves far too comfortable over the past few days and I was quite at the end of my rope with them. I half-wished that we had just left their caravan to be attacked by Saxons the night our group had split off from Guinevere’s.
But then I would have a dead half-sister and nephew and my conscience could not bear that… no matter how irritating they were to travel with.
“I simply cannot abide being on this horse any longer,” Morgana’s shrill voice pierced the air as she led what looked like her own processional into the courtyard, flying her husband, King Lot’s, banners.
I did not like seeing so much green in the walls of my castle—King Lot was my least favorite of the tribal kings with his only redeeming characteristic being that he produced sons that were far more honorable and brave than he ever could be and now he was foisting his wife upon me while he went to his territory to gather reinforcements to protect said wife and son for their journey home.
Mordred, on the smaller horse next to his mother, was a sullen, dark haired boy of ten and four who looked as if he would have rather been anywhere else than being dragged around by his overbearing mother.
