I rose before the dawn. Sitting up I looked at Guinevere still sleeping, her hair wild and spread across the sheets. I pulled the covers over naked shoulders, and she stirred a slight smile tugging at her lips but she didn’t wake. I pulled on my clothes and opened a portal and teleported back to my tent on the Tourney Grounds. Kalin was there in his cot, and I looked his over and checked his armor. It didn’t appear damaged, and I relaxed slightly, whatever he had been up to he had gone about it smarter than I did.
Sitting down I set Mab down on the table and began going over different enchantment configurations. A lot of this was theoretical, while Mab could calculate if a spell would work or not, he didn’t know what gemstone would be needed to make a Enchantment work. I kept working on the designs for another two hours until the tent flap moved, and Aisha stepped in.
“Sir Ishmael your next fights in an hour,” she said.
Standing up I looked up to see Kalin sliding out of bed and putting on his boots.
“Where your friends alright?” I asked him.
Kalin froze. “You knew what I was doing?”
I chuckled. “I have ways of keeping tabs on you, you’re my responsibility keeping you alive is my job. If you want to skip watching the duel today, you can go visit them again.” I tossed him a small sack of coins. “Get them some more food, I should have thought to do that sooner.”
“Thank you, sir,” Kalin said, finishing pulling on his boots and running out of the tent.
“You seem to care a lot about a boy you met a few days ago,” Aisha said as we walked towards the arena, I’d be dueling in.
“I see a lot of myself in him when I was that age,” I said. “The anger, hatred and distrust; helping him is the only way I can reach out to the boy I used to be.”
“Why were you angry?” Aisha asked.
I stopped and she kept moving until she realized I wasn’t beside her. She looked back and met my eyes.
“Who said I’m still not angry?” I asked my voice, a deep growl.
Aisha froze like a deer in the headlights. Then I smiled and kept walking and she unfroze.
“How do you do that?” she asked walking beside me again. “You go from a beast to a man in heartbeat.”
“It’s not a trick,” I said a with a shrug. “Its just who I am.”
“The man or the beast?” she asked.
“They aren’t different, and they aren’t exclusive,” I replied. “Everyone has what I have inside them, I just…I just have more of both.”
We passed an arena much fancier than the ones I competed in men and women in outfits that wouldn’t have been out of place in fancy ball were entering it.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Aisha checked her notepad. “That would be where Prince Arthur is dueling today, did you want to watch to get a sense for how he fights?”
“I’ve seen him fight,” I said dismissively. “I wouldn’t learn anything from watching a façade.”
“They won’t let you win,” Aisha said to me suddenly. “Even if you beat him, you’ll still lose.”
“I have to try,” I said with a shrug. “And you can always win, even if the rules are rigged, then break the fucking game.”
“Why do you care so much about her?” she asked. “You’ve known her for how long?”
“A little over a year,” I said with a shrug my head always moving looking around us in all directions scanning for threats.
Aisha’s brows furrowed. “I though you only knew her for a few weeks?”
“That’s what I tell most people,” I agreed. “But I’m extending you a bit of trust.”
We reached the arena and stepped into the fighter’s tunnel. Aisha looked at me and her expression looked conflicted.
“Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks, but I won’t need it until I get to Arthur,” I said stepping into the arena.
I walked halfway to the center and waited. I looked up but Guinevere wasn’t in the stands today. That actually made me smile at the thought of her sleeping in due to our late-night activities. My opponent stepped into the arena. I didn’t even bother to read his description, just waited.
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The adjudicator did his usual speil and the knight stalked forwards.
“I’ve heard of you Sir Ismael,” he said. “They say you’re a great warrior, maybe as great as Arthur. I have my doubts,” he taunted me.
I moved towards him rolling my shoulders.
“I’m going to…” he began but I was done.
I sprang forward and back kicked behind me as I spun hitting the back of his knee. He went down and my gauntleted fist of my sword hand hit him in the head with enough force to fell an oak with a single blow. He crumpled into the stand, and I shook my head. I looked up at the adjudicator.
“Do you have no one else?” I asked. “Is this the might of Camelot I’ve heard so much of?”
For once no cheers answered me my words having stung their patriotic pride.
“Send me a real warrior next time,” I said and strode out of the arena.
---
Guinevere stirred in bed and sat up. Mordred was gone, reaching beside her she felt it was still warm signaling he had just left. She slipped into the copper bathtub and let the hot water wash her clean of any scent that might give away what she and Mordred had done last night. Despite the fear of them catching him she had needed that; the tension between them had been building to unbearable levels and needed to be released.
Rinsing her hair, she wrung it out and wrapped it in a towel feeling the enchantments woven it heat up to help it dry faster. She heard a knock at the servant’s door.
“Come in,” she called.
Her handmaidens entered and began making the bed. Guinevere felt sudden paranoia they might discover some clue but relaxed. These were common servants not gifted and lacked the senses they would need to smell Mordred’s scent on the sheets.
She rose and left her chambers. She was headed to the tourney grounds knowing she’d be late for Mordred’s match.
“Guinevere,” a stern voice called out.
She froze and turned. “Yes father?” she asked.
Merlin approached her and looked around, but they were alone. “What did you tell your champion about your mother?” he asked, and she could hear anger in his voice.
“I told him everything,” Guinevere said. It was true enough Mordred had seen all her memories of her mother.
“Why?” Merlin asked his hands clenching on his staff. “I didn’t realize how little you care for our family.”
“I guess I stopped caring about our family the day I learned that my own father tried to have me killed,” Guinevere said her eyes flashing with rage. Usually, she was able to keep her emotions iced over but today they were a raging fire.
“So, your little knight told you about his petty theory,” Merlin scoffed. “And you, being the fool you are, believed him.”
“You can’t deceive me with your lies anymore,” Guinevere said. “I went against your wishes, and you acted to secure your power.”
“I have only ever acted to secure the betterment of my family,” Merlin said stepping closer and towering over her.
“You have only ever acted in your own best interest,” Guinevere spat at him.
“Than is not true,” Merlin snarled.
“It is,” Guinevere said and this time her voice broke with tears. “Every action I’ve ever seen you take proves it. You’ve forced me into this sick façade, a fake tournament for my hand, as fake your love for our family. You have no love for our country, for your family, for me; just like you never loved my mother.”
Merlin’s hand struck her across the face at those last words.
“I loved your mother more than you could ever imagine before she betrayed me,” he snarled and stormed off.
Guinevere felt the stinging pain on her cheek and blood dripping down. Her chest heaved with emotion, and she turned around, she couldn’t go out like this. Her emotional armor was sundered, and she retreated back to her room. Locking all the doors, she ignored the knocking by her handmaidens.
“Go away!” she shouted.
Hours passed her knees tight to her chest. The sun set and a portal opened up Mordred stepping into the room. He took one look at her, and worry filled his face as he went to her side.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Guinevere threw her arms around his neck hugging him tight. “Hold me,” she whispered.
She felt his strong arms wrapped around her, a shield against the world.
“What happened?” Mordred asked.
“My father and I spoke,” Guinevere said. “I told him I knew he tried to assassinate him, and we fought. He said my mother betrayed him...”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mordred said. “They’re just the words of a man who will do anything to hurt you.”
“You didn’t see the rage in his eyes,” Guinevere said. “I’ve only seen him like that once in my life… back when I was child right before my mother went missing for months.”
Mordred was silent just holding her and rocking her kissing her hair. He lay beside her keeping her tight against him. Eventually she relaxed enough to drift off the heat of Mordred like a furnace keeping her warm as they lay atop the covers.
---
Arthur looked out over the palace gardens from the balcony that joined to his bedchambers. He felt heat press up against the bare chest of his skin on both sides. Lionor and Ammerila leaned against him as he looked out at the rising sun.
“What are you thinking about?” Lionor asked.
“The Warlord,” Arthur said. “He’s out there slaughtering man and monsters and growing in power. I’ve been pushing myself here, but I need to be out there.”
“You think about him to much my love,” Lionor said. “You’ve beaten him before.”
“We killed him,” Ammerila said. “But he always won even when he was dead.”
“You haven’t met him Lionor,” Arthur said. “He’s not human, not like us, I don’t think he can even feel pain.”
“He can’t,” Ammerila confirmed. “I first met him in the first Event, he didn’t seem to special at first. I tried to kill him though, I sneak attack to his back with enough poison to kill a dragon and it should have attacked his nervous system and left him mewling on the floor.”
“Sometimes I question the gods,” Arthur said. “Their System allows for men like him to rise to power just as it helps others protect civilization.”
“It is the balance of things,” Ammerila said shrugging. “Even in your city there is chaos, it is contained but its still there. You can never get rid of it entirely, but you can use it for the greater good.”
Arthur sighed. “I’m tired of using things for the greater good, I want to just do things because they are good. When I first became a champion, everything seemed so simple, now… now I must use war to destroy the Warlord. I’m forcing a woman I’ve known my entire life to marry me against her will and I’m sleeping with someone who should be my mortal enemy.”
“Do you regret that?” Ammerila asked raising an eyebrow as she looked up at him.
Arthur smiled down at her the bedsheet wrapped around her lithe curves awakening a hunger within him.
“No,” he admitted. “That’s a compromise I’m happy to make.”
The two woman pulled Arthur back into the bedchamber the silence enchantments on their chambers blocking out the sounds of their love making from the rest of the palace.