“It is no matter, you and I will learn how to navigate this together—hopefully with Bedivere and Lancelot soon.”
I snorted at that, thinking of Lancelot’s mood earlier. “They are exceedingly stubborn.”
“That they are,” Arthur agreed as he reached for Guinevere, wrapping her in the thick fur he had brought and lifting her from the cradle of my arms. She barely stirred, her cheeks stillflushed from our earlier lovemaking. “But they shall need to, as Guinevere says, get with the program and soon.”
Arthur’s expression was far away and a bit haunted as he stared down at Guinevere’s sleeping face.
“Perchance,” I began slowly, wondering exactly how to broach the subject with him. “Is this about your prophetic dream you had?”
Arthur’s head jerked up and he looked at me, his expression turning guarded, but I could feel the panic faintly down the bond we now shared through Guinevere. “It is fate for us to be as one pack… but yes it is. Time is growing thin and not in our favor, Gawain. We must come together if we are to survive the coming months.”
With those cryptic words, Arthur bundled Guinevere close and turned to leave, the door to my chambers closing with a soft thud as I was left alone with nothing but my thoughts and the still lingering scent of honeysuckle.
There would be no more sleep for me tonight, I realized as I reached over to grab my lute, but perhaps there could be some inspiration pulled from the events I had experienced.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Your majesty, why have you come to my forge?” Bedivere asked as he took the large metal tongs I had been fiddling with out of my hands.
“I was curious about how you use the forge with one hand,” I told him, which wasn’t acompletelie. Several of the knights had shown me their swords which had been formed by the alpha and how intricate the metal designs on the hilts were. It would be hard for someone with two hands to accomplish such a thing, but apparently Bedivere did it with just one.
The alpha, who had previously switched off bodyguard shifts with Gawain, was now the one avoiding me rather than Lancelot.
It seemed it was my lot in life that, when one alpha seemed to be warming up to me, the other must grow cold.
Lancelot and I had come to a tenuous peace once he realized I wasn’t going to skin his little sister alive—no, it had onlytaken a few days of her assisting me in the morning for him to understand that I meant her no harm.
Hell, I even liked the girl. She was young and well-read with a surprisingly mischievous streak. Andrivete couldn’t stand what she referred to as ‘the youthful energy’ in the room even though she was only a few years older than I was.
Sure, I now had to get dressed in the room next door because, as happy as I was to have someone younger to chat with, just the thought of Vivienne being in the same room as my nest made my skin itch. Never before had I been so territorial over my space—even Trini had been able to sit on my nest when she came to visit my flat in modern-day London.
But the irritation seemed almost inevitable, as if I couldn’t control it despite my best efforts. So we moved all of my clothing into the room next door and she assisted me there with my dresses which were growing increasingly more complicated by the day.
Andrivete and Vivienne seemed to relish decorating my body and hair every day before sending me off to do my daily duties.
Now I was grateful for their insistence to dress me in a delicate lilac colored dress today because, despite his words which were meant to push me away, Bedivere’s silver eyes still took in my form with a hunger that sent little shockwaves of excitement through me.
“I can show you the cleaner part of my workshop, your highness,” the man said with a sigh as he put the tongs down and ran his fingers through his silver-streaked hair. “But you will get your dress dirty in here.”
“Teach me how to work the metal,” I requested, ignoring his words.
The request had worked on Lancelot before, though my prowess with a bow and arrow left much to be desired. I could at the very least hit the hay bale at this point.
Even this morning when I had done so, the twinkle of pride in Lancelot’s eyes had been worth every single blister on my hands from pulling back that damned bowstring.
Now I was hoping my request would help me get to know Bedivere better.
He was the most mysterious of the alphas who were meant to be mine and I found myself searching for him during every mealtime to see if he was looking for me just as much.
But, instead, he had been avoiding meals altogether ever since the day that Morgana had been banished from the castle and I was pretty sure it had something to do with Gawain’s bond mark on my chest.
When I woke up the next morning curled in Arthur’s arms I had been afraid he would be angry with me, but instead he’d kissed my worries away and made love to me all morning until Kay practically dragged him from our chambers to get to work.
Nothing had changed in our relationship except for my scent. Arthur had told me that every time I accepted another alpha my scent would change slightly—not enough for anyone who wasn’t actively looking for it—but it would be enough for potential mates to err on the side of caution when approaching me.
Just as Bedivere was doing now.
“Your majesty,” Bedivere said, exasperated as he looked down at me. “This is not the same as your classes with Sir Lancelot—the risk of you harming yourself is much higher than that.”
