CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lancelot. Guinevere was Lancelot.

Lancelot waited on the narrow strip of rock-strewn beach between the secret passage and the border of Guinevere’s shield.

It was an almost physical pain, staring out through the blue shimmer. Guinevere felt it alongside Lancelot, truly understood what it meant to her knight to be trapped. Lancelot replayed over and over the moment when Guinevere stepped back, away from her. Left her behind. Tasked her with protecting a city that did not love or want her while the queen she would do anything for was taken.

Guinevere felt it, and she wanted to cry, to apologize, but she was not Guinevere right now. She was Lancelot, and Lancelot was quickly taking over her sense of self.

Lancelot prowled, taking three steps in either direction. She would as soon kill Mordred as take his side, but…she trusted him to keep Guinevere alive. He had proved that was a priority at least. And Guinevere with Mordred was safer than Guinevere with Morgana and Nechtan.

Safer, but still not safe.

Her mind ran through strikes and blocks and parries, her limbs twitching in half-hearted attempts to keep up with it. Tonight in Guinevere’s dream she would fight Mordred again, and she would beat him, because she had to. She would defeat the whole world if she had to, over and over, as many foes as there were between herself and her queen.

She would see Guinevere again tonight, and it would hurt, but as long as it hurt it meant that Guinevere was still alive and unbroken, and as long as Guinevere was alive, Lancelot would get her back.

She would.

Guinevere wished Lancelot could feel her, too. Could feel her relief at knowing that Lancelot had not given up on her in spite of the pain she had caused. But she was merely a passenger.

Twisting to dodge an imaginary blow, Lancelot’s eyes swept the horizon and she stopped. Horses. They approached Camelot’s lake at a ferocious speed. Lancelot threw more branches on the fire, stoking it so high that it hurt to be so close to it. “Come on, come on,” she whispered, her eyes watering from the smoke but still fixed on the horses.

They changed course, heading straight for her.

The king, and Excalibur, and the end of her interminable watch. Lancelot grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She would alternate between her horse and a spare one, push them as fast as she safely could. Alone, she could cover the same amount of ground that Nechtan’s forces had in a couple of days, cutting west to find Mordred and Guinevere.

Guinevere, I am coming.

One horse pulled away from the rest. Lancelot recognized King Arthur’s silhouette in the twilight as his knights hung back. He dismounted and approached the barrier, staring up at it.

Guinevere’s thoughts—muted and confused, but not overwhelmed as they had been with Arthur—juddered. Arthur through Lancelot’s eyes looked so different. Stronger. Harder. There was no affection in Lancelot’s gaze, only impatience and a surprising burst of anger toward the king who had ridden away from Guinevere so easily.

“My king!” Lancelot bowed quickly, a hand to her heart. “There is much to say and little time. Guinevere has been taken, but she escaped. I know where she is and I have a plan.”

“What is this?” King Arthur gestured at the shield. “Is the city overthrown? Is the Dark Queen here?”

Lancelot felt another flare of anger that the king asked first about the city, not about who had taken Guinevere or where she was. “It is Guinevere’s magic. As long as she was on that side and I on this, the city could not be reached.”

“Why was Guinevere outside the shield? Why not you?”

Lancelot wanted to slump, to give her shame physical expression, but she forced herself to stand tall. “She did not tell me that was how it would work.” She tricked me. She protected me and I will never forgive her for not allowing me to protect her, Lancelot thought. No one has ever tried to protect me before. Not since the Lady. No one else had ever looked at Lancelot and found someone worth protecting.

Lancelot forced the thoughts away. “Morgan le Fay and the Dark Queen are in league with Nechtan. They are heading north to a forest known as the Green Man’s Chapel where the Dark Queen is hidden. But Guinevere escaped with—” Lancelot stumbled over the name. She did not want to say it, and she did not want King Arthur to know. But she was a knight, and she told the truth. “Guinevere escaped with Mordred. Fina, one of Nechtan’s daughters, helped her so that you would not attack her people.”

The king’s eyes flashed with an emotion Lancelot did not understand. She had expected anger, and there was anger but something else as well. Sadness? Regret? Jealousy? It seemed both softer and more complicated than rage.

“How do you know this?” King Arthur asked.

“Guinevere has been talking to us. Through dreams.”

The king frowned. “Who knows about this?”

“Only myself, Isolde, and Brangien.”

“And what does the city think of the barrier?” King Arthur gestured at it. “Do they know Guinevere did it?”

“No. We started rumors that it was the Lady of the Lake, protecting Camelot in your absence. All you have to do is break the spell with Excalibur and then I will go to the queen. I will bring her home.” As night fell, the barrier had a subtle glow to it. Their safety robbed them of the stars in the black night sky, and Lancelot missed them fiercely. Soon she would be out. Free to save her Guinevere.

The king rubbed the back of his neck, staring up at the dome over all of Camelot. “It stands, as long as you stay on that side?”

“Yes, but Guinevere was certain Excalibur would break through. She wanted you to do it on the lakeside, where everyone could see, but there is no time to lose. Mordred is not on Nechtan’s side, but I do not trust him, not for a moment, and—”

“I did not expect Camelot to be safe. I thought I would have to besiege my own city. This changes things.” King Arthur did not unsheathe Excalibur.

Lancelot was explaining things wrong. Or the king was in too much shock to understand. “We kept it safe for you, yes. And I swear, I will not return without the queen.”

King Arthur took a step back. His voice softened with wonder. “What a gift Guinevere has given me. The city has everything it needs for the winter. All my people are protected, so I can do what needs to be done without fear. Merlin must have known when he sent her. He prepared the way for me.” He fixed his eyes on Lancelot. “I have an army. This attack against the very heart of Camelot, my heart, will not stand. Nechtan and the Dark Queen must fall.”

“But they do not have Guinevere anymore.” Lancelot understood his anger, but there were more important things. Getting Guinevere to safety was the priority. “She and Mordred went west, and—”

“Mordred will never go against his mother and the Dark Queen. He is manipulating Guinevere. The only way to save her is by destroying the enemies that would use her against me.”

If the king insisted on traveling with an army, it would slow him down. And if he went after Nechtan and the Dark Queen, he would miss Guinevere entirely. Which meant more time with Guinevere and Mordred on their own, and Lancelot could not stand for that.

She trusted Guinevere. But she did not trust Mordred to let Guinevere make her own decisions. He would manipulate her, however he could. King Arthur was right about that.

“Very well,” Lancelot said. She could not tell the king what to do with his army, even if she thought he was wrong. “I will find the queen while you lead your men against Nechtan. I swear she will be protected.”

“No. Camelot is safe, and you will see that it remains that way by keeping the barrier in place.”

“But—”

The king’s eyes turned as hard and cold as iron. “You are a knight of Camelot, and I command you to keep my city safe until I return. Go and fetch the captain of the guard. I need to give him instructions before I leave.”

Lancelot did not understand what had just happened. She had a plan. She had the connection to Guinevere, the way to see where she was, to speak with her. King Arthur had—

He had an army. He was riding to war, and Lancelot could do nothing to help Guinevere or help the king…or stop him. This time Lancelot did not fall to her knees in despair. She was numb beyond feeling as she turned and obeyed the orders of Arthur Pendragon.