The eastern wing was the draftiest part of the castle that we still had yet to do any real work on. Morgana and her family would not be comfortable there and I hoped it would send the message that they were to leave as soon as possible.
While I spoke to Kay, Guinevere’s protests had gone quiet and she was holding herself completely still in my arms.
“You’re hurt. You shouldn’t be carrying me anywhere when you are hurt,” she told me, her voice tinged with a pout that made me have to turn my face away in order to smile in a way that she would not see. Though, it was doubtless that she would be able to feel my satisfaction through our bond.
“And you do not have any shoes on your feet, little queen,” I told her calmly. “It almost feels as if you wished for me to carry you back into my castle in my arms and make love to you until the moon was high in the sky.”
There was a flash of heat and longing down the bond but it was quickly replaced with concern and that familiar sense of indignation.
“You will be doing no such thing tonight. You look as if you’ve been run over by a bus and don’t think I can’t feel how much pain you’re in because you’re carrying me.”
“What is a bus?” I asked, curious as we passed by several people in the halls.
Andrivete, followed by what looked like half of her gaggle of children, appeared from around the corner, her typically neutral expression remaining the same in spite of the sight before her.
“Your majesty,” she said, dipping into a low curtsey that was awkwardly mimicked by her wily brood. “Welcome home, there is a warm dinner in your chambers for you and her majesty along with some hot water from the springs. If you would like, I will clear out the baths so that you may wash in peace.”
“No,” I told her firmly. “I will bathe in the morning and just wash with a cloth tonight. Please send Merlin to me as soon as he has recovered enough to walk.”
Andrivete nodded before hurrying past us, her children waving at me with bright grins as they followed behind her as ducklings would follow a mother duck.
“Aren’t you going to tell her you’re hurt?” Guinevere asked quietly as we continued our journey through the castle.
“I am not,” I answered with a shake of my head as the doors to my chambers finally came into blessed view.
There was a pause before Guinevere’s full lips formed an unhappy line. “Why?”
“Are you going to question me about every little thing tonight, Wife?”
My question came out in a low growl that would have sent half of my staff running out of sight, but instead Guinevere just rolled her eyes and scrunched her little nose at me.
“Yes I am. Is it not a wife’s right to question her husband?”
I could not argue with such logic and instead chose to tug on the ring of one of the doors and pull it open, grunting asmy wound throbbed from the movement. “I chose not to tell her I am injured because it would send the entire castle into a frenzy and I frown deeply upon frenzies. As such, I keep healing supplies in my chambers so that I need not worry my people.”
“That’s stupid,” Guinevere told me bluntly as she began to squirm in my arms. “We’re in our chambers now, so you can put me down before you bust a stitch or something.”
“I have not stitched my wound closed yet, little queen,” I replied, watching her eyes widen as they shifted to where my tunic was covering the wound in my side.
“Take it off,” she demanded, pointing at my clothing.
I grinned. “Are you so eager to get me into your nest again?”
“Don’t be stupid, I need to make sure your wound isn’t infected. You might not know what gangrene is but I can assure you it’s nasty,” Guinevere scoffed, unamused by my attempt to ply her into my bed in the way that I had craved since our first night together.
Though I did not know what gangrene was, I was hesitant to lift my shirt as I did not wish to upset my omega by showing her my wound which had gone untreated for nearly two days now.
“Merlin will take care of me when he arrives,” I said in an attempt to placate her.
But Guinevere would not be dissuaded, as I knew almost instinctively that she would not be. “I don’t care if the Pope himself is coming to heal you, Arthur, I want to see your wound. Now take your tunic off before I have to wrestle it off of you.”
One thing I was quickly learning about marriage was when not to argue with my wife and this was such a time.
With a sigh, I began to pull the embroidered tunic over my head. “As you wish, little queen, but do not blame me for showing you such a grisly sight,” I told her with a sigh of surrender.
Guinevere scoffed. “Please, I used to be addicted to medical TV serials, nothing you show me can be as bad as that.”
Chapter Twenty
