Quest - Book 2 of Queen's Honor - YA + Adult Fantasy Romance and Adventure (9 page)

I seemed to disconnect from myself as I stood next to Arthur,
as if I watched the event from outside of my body. He beamed, lighting like the
sun. He stared down on me as if I were the only woman alive—as if he had no
recollection of spending the night with my cousin. Then the Bishop of
Canterbury sealed our souls with words spoken in Latin, a strange tongue I
could not even comprehend.

When it was done, Arthur kissed me. My lips were unwilling
lumps under his touch remembering they had recently been on Lancelot’s, and
Arthur’s on Elibel’s—but Arthur pressed into them anyway as if he owned the
right to do so. I suddenly realized the electricity of his touch was more like
the slice of a conquering sword rather than the excitement of love’s first rush.
He had gotten what he wanted. And I hoped, if my choice had not served my own
heart or that of my loved ones, that it would at least serve Britannia.

After I had been
introduced as Camelot’s new Queen to the awaiting citizens, I was escorted to
the stands where the quest would conclude. Both my mind and my body numbed—so I
was Queen. What could I possibly do as Queen when I could not even manage to
better those around me?

Aerona, Crystin
and Rhosyn trailed after me, while Arthur had already mounted the steps and
seated himself for the arrival of the questers. He jested with a few of his knights,
each holding a goblet of honeyed mead. They clanked their cups and toasted,
chugging back the sweet drink in anticipation of the celebration.

“I believe you
dropped this, My Queen,” said a low, rich voice from behind me. I swirled as
quickly as the overdone fabric of my gown would allow.

Lancelot stood
behind me. His hand stretched outward. Settled in the thickness of his palm,
lay the triquetra. My heart thumped at the sight of him, and I repressed a
hopeful smile.

“A moment,” I said
to my ladies.

They curtsied and
left us, joining Arthur and his knights on the stands.

“You’re here,” I
said, my breath quivering against my chest.

“You told me to
seek happiness,” he replied, holding my gaze in his. And those eyes—dark, deep,
simmering—said a million more words than the ones he spoke.

Even as far as two
paces from me, his warmth penetrated me, livened my insides once more, and drove
away the numbness that had seized me. I wanted to fall in front of him and
weep, but I remained standing as I thought a queen should retain a wee bit of restraint.

“You dropped
this,” he repeated.

“No,” I said, “it
belongs in the garbage.”

“I dare to argue
with a queen, but a triquetra is the very symbol a queen should possess.”

“It’s wickedness,”
I said.

“It’s the land,
the sea and the sky,” he argued. “It stands for love, honor and protection.”
Lancelot mirrored the words my mother had said, so many, many seasons passed.
“How could it be wicked?”

“My father says it
is the sign of the witch—of the old ones.”

Lancelot shook his
head. “No more than the clover.”

I furrowed my
brow, disagreeing.

“The clover has
three leaves, like the triquetra. The clover is from the land, given to us by
God. They say, to the west, a Saint teaches his followers God’s trinity with
the petals of the clover. The triquetra is no more wicked than the trinity—both
are the same, both are holy. Though called by another name, they stand for the
same truth. And that truth is what you are, Guinevere. You are the land, the
sky, and the sea. You are Love, Honor and Protection.”

“But I have failed
everyone.” My words spewed out of my control.
“I failed Elibel. I failed
you. I failed myself. I am not sure what made me think I could cause a change and
help the people I loved. Because of me, Elibel will never find happiness. And
your only chance will be to escape me. Happiness cannot exist with a queen’s
duty. Becoming Queen of Camelot breaks everyone I truly love, and there is not
a single thing I can do to remedy the situation.”

“You see others so clearly, but you fail to see yourself.
You cannot fail when you are true to yourself. You’ve honored your feelings. You’ve
seized love because it spoke true in your heart, even though the world tells
you otherwise. You’ve courageously stood up for your friends in spite of your
own needs. You are a queen, through and through. And you will be the most
honorable queen Camelot has ever seen.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it is who you are.”

We stared at one another for several heartbeats before I
said,
“You are in danger if you stay
here.”

Lancelot smiled,
revealing his bright row of teeth. “My only danger comes from leaving you. Let
me decide what brings me happiness.”

He pressed the
triquetra into my hand. “You have a quest to attend to.” Then he turned, and
strode into the crowd.

*
*
*

Lancelot’s words revived me, and strength returned to my
limbs—and my heart. I mounted the steps and sat myself next to Arthur.

King Arthur, my husband and best friend’s lover, gestured to
a servant who delivered a cup of mead to me. Arthur raised his glass in the
air. His voice boomed out over the crowd. “To my wife! Queen of Camelot!”

A wild roar rose as citizens cheered, assembled in semi-circular
stands around an arena. “Long live the Queen of Camelot!” came the answer to
Arthur’s toast.

Arthur stood and cheered along with the civilians, clanking
my glass, and the cups of nearby knights. His smile spread his face. His azure
eyes lit with merriment. He never looked so alarmingly beautiful.

I noticed Elibel emerge from the crowd, making her way
toward our stand. She wore one of the dresses I had purchased for her at the
merchant’s booth upon our arrival to Camelot, along with the matching silver
necklace and circlet set, inlaid with carnelian and pearls that I had gifted
her. The lacing up both sides of her torso accentuated her womanly curves, and
the peachy color of the gown heightened the healthy glow of her skin. She
looked breathtaking—a fairy goddess from another realm.

Arthur’s line of sight fell directly upon her as she swayed
toward us. His smile froze. His eyes remained stunned as he viewed her, and I
realized that must be what I looked like when I stared at Lancelot.

My cousin kept her gaze on me, though. She gestured toward
her gown, and then nodded toward me—a thank you for the presents. I bobbed my
head back in acknowledgement, and a tentative smile spread her lips.

A boom resounded in the center of the arena, jangling my
bones with its loudness. The crowd screamed, then cheered as Merlin appeared
out of a whirl of white and black smoke. All eyes fell to the attention of the
old druid.

“And so ends King Arthur’s valiant quest for knights.”

The crowd roared again.

Arthur raised his goblet, yelling, “Here, here!”

“How shall this mission end? Will the hound be able to
protect his white hind?” Merlin’s gaze sought me out in the stands and settled
upon me. A quiver ran up my spine as his stare leveled me. “Or will the
questers conquer all and bring back the fair prize, so they can be smote by the
mighty King Arthur and his sword Excalibur, and join our chivalrous knights at
the Round Table?”

Cheers sounded again as the crowd banged their fists against
the wooden benches beneath them, calling for the questers fates to be revealed.

A raven circled overhead, and I assumed the creature was
none other than Morgaine as I caught a glimpse of green flashing as the black
bird circled. Merlin glanced upwards, his face sagging into a scowl. The raven
sent him a present—droppings—which splattered on the bald spot on Merlin’s
head. Merlin swatted at the raven and wiped his head with the sleeve of his
robe. Morgaine glided to a pole and landed, watching like the rest of the
onlookers.

Commotion broke out in the far corner of the arena. Dogs
yipped and howled, but the pack wore leashes, all tethered and under the
control of one young quester who came forward, leading the dogs in an orderly
fashion.

A young man stood before Arthur. “My King,” he said,
sweeping down into a low bow, “after pursuing the pack into the woodlands and
across the meadows, I trapped the dogs and contained them before they could wreak
havoc on a nearby flock of sheep.”

“And what is your name,” asked Arthur.

“Pellinor, sir.”

“A valiant deed, well done! You are the first to join my
knights!”

The onlookers hooted, yelled and applauded until a second
man crossed the arena and my heart sunk.

Gawain strutted across the field carrying the white hound
over his shoulder like a sack of chicken feed. He threw the beast onto the
ground where it lay, lifeless. Wetness burned the corners of my eyes, but I
held them in check. I was no longer a girl who would sob at injustice, but a
queen who would seek the opportunities to right any wrongs.

“I have slain the hound!” Proclaimed Gawain. The audience shouted
their approval, and Arthur beamed at his young nephew.

“Well done!” yelled Arthur. “You are the second knight to
join my ranks, Gawain!”

Morgaine cawed approval from her fence post and ruffled her
wings.

Merlin glanced up at me, and for a moment, I thought the
druid sent me a warning—as if my fate might follow that of the hound and hind
if I were not careful. I wondered for the first time if Morgaine’s assessment
of the old druid was correct, or if more layers needed to be peeled away to see
his truths.

Then raucous laughter broke out, and I jerked my head toward
the commotion to see what caused the outbreak. The third quester pulled his
quarry into the arena. The hind.

The peasant boy, Tor, had managed to harness the hind with a
horse’s halter and dragged the deer into the center of the field. The deer,
alive, well and unharmed, fought its captor with all its might; a tug-of-war
ensued between the two—Tor pulling forward, the hind dragging Tor backward.
Foot by foot, Tor won out and pulled the deer into the center of the arena.

The crowd roared with laughter at the spectacle. Arthur
clapped his hands and yelled, “Why haven’t you slain the beast, young Tor?”

“For the Lady’s sake, My Lord,” he replied. Tor tipped his
chin at me, and I smiled. The peasant boy had acted on my plea for the hind.

Arthur laughed at the boy. “Kill it now, or I fear your
heart is too weak to perform a knight’s deadly duties.”

“I will not,” said Tor, raising his chin in defiance of
Arthur’s command.

“Then perhaps weaving would be a better occupation for your
sensitivities.”

His knights laughed with him. The crowd joined in until
everyone howled.

“I will not slay the hind,” said Tor, raising his voice over
the tumult, “because my Queen desires fair treatment of the creature.”

“Fair treatment?” echoed Arthur. “For a beast?” His laughter
spilled over and, once again, everyone joined in at the boy’s expense.

The normal rush of anger at the situation did not come.
Instead, my sight sharpened as if my entire field of vision cleared. Every
detail sprang to life—the tightness in Arthur’s jaw as he laughed, the way his
eyes switched side to side to gauge the crowd’s reaction, the expectant look in
the faces of the citizens as they watched Arthur, like dogs waiting for their
master’s next command. And I understood. Arthur sought to be seen as powerful.
Killing the hind showed his prowess. The crowd needed the security of following
a leader. And the boy, Tor, stood defying them all in order to follow the truth
of his heart. I admired his bravery.

I stood with a steady grace, and my words flowed out of
me—clear and confident. “The boy shows more courage to keep the hind alive,
than to slay her.”

Arthur turned toward me. He started to reply, but my steady
stance and calm tone halted him. He examined me with a new curiosity.

“It is true, My Lord.” Elibel’s voice rang from behind me,
and I smiled at the fortitude of her tone. “It would be simple to kill the
deer, since her protector has already been slain. Tor shows great courage to
face the crowd’s laughter and your disapproval in order to honor his new
Queen.”

Elibel slipped her hand into mine, and we stood together,
facing Arthur. I added, “I proclaim the greatest courage of all is to show
mercy to those in need.”

Arthur’s gaze shot back and forth between Elibel and me. He
chose his words with an uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. “My Queen is wise,” he
proclaimed. “For true courage is in one’s ability to extend mercy to their
adversaries. From this day forward, Queen Guinevere will act as our moral guide
toward chivalry.”

Silence washed the arena. Then suddenly, an outburst of
applause shot through the crowd.

I raised my hand to silence them, and said, “Tor, you have
shown outstanding valor in your pursuit of this quest. You have faced great
adversity to go against the masses in order to stay true to your heart. I
proclaim your right to the position of third knight to join the ranks of the
Round Table.”

An overwhelming roar of approval rang through Camelot. The
peasant boy nodded toward me, his eyes glistening with appreciation. Arthur watched
the reaction of the crowd, then conceded, nodding his head.

Elibel leaned in and whispered into my ear. “Spoken like a
true queen.”