“Must I be your training dummy?” I complained loudly, but still gripped my sword and got back into position.
“Yes,” Lancelot replied simply as he gave his practice sword another irritatingly perfect swing. “Though if there is another who would like to challenge me I shall give you a break, dear Gawain.”
The knights around us grew quiet, none daring to take a beating from the best swordsman in our ranks outside of the king.
I rolled my eyes and gripped the wood handle of my own practice sword even tighter. “I much preferred when you were silent during our journey.”
Lancelot’s grin dropped into a frown at the reminder of the omega that I knew he had been studiously avoiding.
The queen had settled into life at the castle with an ease that impressed everyone around her—the servants, the surrounding villagers, and even picky Andrivete all seemed to feel Guinevere’s pull.
A pull that I was struggling against myself.
Bedivere had told me the day we arrived to give her space to get settled in—though it did not seem to apply to the older alpha seeing as he was her escort everywhere she went.
I wanted to be near her at all times. It was a madness that made my skin itch and my sleep restless as I warred with my loyalty to Arthur and my desire for Guinevere.
Even now if I closed my eyes I could taste the honeysuckle perfume that lingered on her skin—the natural omega musk that must drive Arthur to insanity when he pressed his face into the crook of her neck and—
“You are distracted,” Lancelot said as the edge of a wooden sword flew towards my face.
I barely managed to deflect his attack, our wooden weapons clacking together and echoing off of the high walls of the castle.
Pushing back his blade, I lowered my shoulder and dipped underneath his sword, hitting him in the stomach with the full brunt of my strength.
The air left the other alpha in a whoosh as he hit the ground and rolled quickly onto his knees.
“Yes, Gawain!” someone hooted from the gathered knights. “Teach that braggart how it is done!”
Lancelot, who often held himself apart from the rest of the men, making few friends and even more enemies with his stony personality, glowered over his shoulder at them before hopping to his feet again.
“The gods may be on your side today, Gawain,” he teased, his voice showing no hint of the swirl of anger behind his dark eyes. “But I fear your fortune ends now.”
Then he was coming at me, a determined look on his face.
But before he could reach me, a gruff voice filled the courtyard.
“Lancelot! Gawain!”
Lancelot’s steps halted and he whirled to where Bedivere was standing atop the stone steps that led back into the castle.
The men in the yard stood straighter at the sight of him. Though Bedivere may not have been an active knight of the round table any longer, there was still much respect for the alpha and not a single knight wished to draw his ire.
“Come, his majesty needs to see you,” Bedivere said before turning and disappearing through the doorway and back into the castle again.
“Agravaine,” Lancelot called to my older brother who had been busily ignoring the sparring in the center of the courtyard and was instead carving arrows on one of the benches. “Get the men moving on drills.”
A chorus of groans followed me up the steps, doing little to quell my nerves.
What could Arthur possibly want of us now?
“You will court my wife,” Arthur said without preamble once we were all standing together in his study.
He had barely looked up from the papers he was reading. He stamped them with his seal before handing them up to Bedivere who seemed unperturbed by the king’s words as he added the paper to the ever-growing stack on the right side of his desk.
“Pardon?” the word rippled out of my mouth, sounding decidedly squeaky as I gawked at the man.
“You will court my wife,” Arthur repeated again, more slowly this time as if I was daft.
