TheKingsLady (8 page)

Arthur shoved her from him as if she struck him, his words a snarl, anguish darkening his eyes, “You shall not speak his name to me. He was like a brother to me, well no more. You shall burn for your actions, and I am powerless to help.”

“Then so be it.” She sighed, the guilt and pain too much to live with. Dying would be a blessing she decided.

More swirls of sparkling mist covered everywhere she turned. Pictures came out of the grey void quickly now as she relived the day of her execution, tied to a heavy steak piled with wood. She remembered Lancelot attacking his fellow knights as he fought to release her. Their flight into the countryside, hunted by the very men she once ruled. Her life in the abbey where she took her vows, praying to a deaf god for forgiveness as word came to her of Camelot’s downfall and the death of Arthur.

She died a broken woman, her grief and self-recriminations her only companions. As she breathed her last, she thought herself free. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Her lives came to her fast and ugly. All of them held the identical self-destructive cycle. Small wonder Aunt Carlotta took her memories away since she would surely continue the same path to destroy herself.

And now what would she do? That was the question, yet things were different this time. For one, Arthur was here, with her. As alive, handsome and charismatic as she remembered.

Cautiously, she cracked open her eyes to find her room bathed in the soft glow of a single light at her bedside table. She could feel the small bit of warmth from Salt at her hip. His purrs of welcome eased some of her anxiety, until she caught sight of the one man she didn’t want to see.

Arthur lay in the large chair with his long legs stretched out before him, his head tilted back, his eyes closed in slumber. She noticed he looked much younger with sleep easing the tension from his mouth and eyes. A lock of golden blond hair fell over his forehead. Startlingly long black lashes fanned over his cheekbones. She fought the sudden desire to brush that lock of hair away from his face and trail her finger over his high cheekbones, down to his full mouth.

She bit her bottom lip uncertainty, and regret flooded her and her vision swam as tears flowed down her cheeks to drop on her hands.

Wen, don’t cry.
Salt’s voice, so soothing to her in times of pain, held no release from the regret that gripped her.

Oh, Salt, I remember everything now. All those lives I lived and worse. I’m the reason Camelot fell. How can I live with that?

You can only be responsible for your own actions, Wen, what happened to Camelot and Arthur is not your burden to carry.

“You’re awake. I’d ask how you feel, but I can guess.” The husky note in his voice sent a shiver of awareness spiraling through her.

“Why?” The question blurted out of her before she could bite it back.

Regret shadowed his eyes. “Viviane thought it time for you to remember I guess. Sorry about how it was done, but it makes things easier now that you remember.”

Anger flared in her chest and spread through her in a slow burn. “Oh well then I’m so glad it makes it easier for all of you.” The caustic tenor of her voice dripped acid with every word.

His gaze narrowed. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Really? Then why don’t you explain what you did mean because from where I’m sitting it was a pretty nasty thing to do to someone.”

Arthur straightened in his chair and leveled her with a cold glare. “You needed your memories restored for your own safety. Vance will stop at nothing to get his hands on you.”

“From my standpoint I think I would rather take my chances with him than with
you
.” She snorted, reaching a hand down to scratch between Salt’s ears, “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”

“Regardless of who you are none of us could leave you to deal with Vance on your own. You now know how ruthless he is.”

She couldn’t argue with him there. Dammit.

“So how long are you going to keep me here?” She changed the subject and from the arched brow he bestowed upon her, she knew he was allowing it. How very kind of him.

“Until we can be assured it’s safe for you to leave.”

“Bullshit.” She jumped to her feet, hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I can feel the hostility from everyone here. I refuse to stay where I am not wanted.”

Arthur rose to his feet to tower over her. The muscle in his jaw twitched with irritation. “Of course they have animosity. Why wouldn’t they? You betrayed not just me, but them as well.”

“Then why protect me at all? Just let me go and you’ll never hear from me again.” She was horrified to hear how her voice shook. An ache filled her chest, making it hard for her to take a breath at the thought of never seeing Arthur again. Such a dangerous thought, one that would surely bring her more pain.

With a savage curse, he closed the distance between them. Her pulse jumped at his nearness. When he grabbed her arms with his firm, warm fingers, heat speared through her bloodstream on an electric current.

“Stop provoking and start thinking. You have nowhere to go. You know it, and I know it. Whether we like it or not we are stuck together, at least until Vance is defeated.”

She flinched at his harsh words. A slap in the face would have hurt less. Not that she expected much from him. In all of her lives, she kept herself apart from any close relationships. Even with her memories blocked, she realized she still isolated herself from everyone. At least now she knew why.

She shrugged out of his grasp and sidestepped around him. “Pardon me if I’m not thrilled with your safety measures here.”

His laugh held little humor. “I couldn’t truly care less.”

She opened her mouth to give him a scathing retort only to be interrupted by a soft rap at the door, followed by Juliet’s voice. Thankful for the reprieve, she answered it. Juliet’s relieved expression was a balm to her abused emotions.

“Thank the goddess you are all right! I was so worried. It’s not like Viviane to do something so harsh…” Juliet stopped as she noticed Arthur standing in the middle of the room, his expression a dark thundercloud of male aggression. “Oh, did I disturb anything?”

“No.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Gwen and I were not quite finished with our discussion,” Arthur’s voice rang with authority.

She glared at him before turning her back on him, giving her full attention to Juliet. “As far as I’m concerned our conversation is over. Please come in.” Salt let out a large yowl, making a beeline to Juliet, rubbing at her ankles with a contented purr.

“Whoa, I’ll just come by later.” Juliet raised her hands, her gaze going from one to the other.

“No.”

“Yes, thank you, Juliet.”

Arthur’s dismissive tone grated on her as she watched Juliet make a clean getaway with Salt at her heels.

The little flea-bitten traitor.

The door closed behind one of the few people who seemed to be on her side with a soft
snick
of finality, and she knew by the sudden thudding of her heart she stood on very dangerous ground.

* * * *

Arthur knew he was being an asshole, but couldn’t seem to care. From the moment he laid eyes on Gwen, he felt an immediate attraction. She haunted him in his dreams and in his waking hours. Everything about her tormented him, her soft husky voice, the way her fiery hair curled around her small heart-shaped face. The way she bit into her lower lip when stressed or unsure of herself. He studied her every movement, every gesture and expression. The more he discovered the more his curiosity and desire grew.

She stood defiant before him, hands fisted on her full hips, those large deep-blue eyes sparking with her anger.

She was magnificent.

“You’re not a king anymore, stop ordering people around. I happened to want her here.”

“We are not finished.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Well I was. There is nothing left for us to talk about.”

“I need to know what you remember, Gwen.”

He watched her expression grow distant, eyes shuttered, giving him nothing on which to gauge her emotions. Her voice came to him disconnected with her surroundings.

“There is not much to tell really. My actions aided in the destruction of Camelot. Mordred caught me at a weak moment, filling me with his lies. He manipulated me to serve his devious plans and destroy both you and Camelot. Hindsight is a real bitch. It’s so obvious now, but then I didn’t have a clue, until it was too late. All my other lives were spent in a downward spiral where I found many creative ways to torture myself.”

“I never wanted you to suffer, surely you know that, don’t you?”

At his words, her gaze snapped up, locking on him. Rage and despair warred in the blue depths of her eyes. “We can’t always get what we want now, can we? Do you know what it’s like to live with everyone thinking the worst of you? Everywhere you go, you find the legend of King Arthur and his adulterous Queen Guinevere. To start every life damned to relive the mistakes you made in a public forum?”

Son of a bitch, he never thought of it that way. Seeing it from her perspective he got it. Understood the hell she faced and why her aunt blocked those tormented memories, giving her a small respite. He took that away from her, not in deed, but by his inaction. He allowed Vivian to strip away the only thing standing between her and a normal life.

His guilt warred with the urge to go to her, wrap her in his arms and soothe the pain showing in her eyes. Nothing good could come from caring for her. He learned his lesson the first time around and was not about to go there again. Keeping his arms loose at his sides, he just nodded. “You’re right, very rarely do we get what we want.”

She nodded in agreement. “Can you please give me some time alone now? I have a lot to think about.”

Something deep within shouted at him not to leave her side, yet he knew it for misplaced protectiveness and not what she needed from him. He forced his legs to move across the room and opened the door, hesitating only a very brief moment before leaving, closing the door softly behind him.

Her momentary privacy was the only thing he could give her.

Chapter Eight

What in the nine levels of hell was that all about?

Darius wondered as he looked at Viviane’s flushed face. Her light eyes glinted with what suspiciously looked to be unshed tears. Even her bottom lip quivered for the briefest of moments before she spoke.

“It served no purpose for her not to remember. We are in dangerous times, and she will need all her resources if Vance has an interest in her.”

“Aye, none of us disagree with the why of it,” Lancelot spoke softly, his gaze gentle. “I am surprised at the harshness it was dealt with. It is not like you, my lady, to use your magic with such aggression, unless no other course of action can be used.”

Darius scanned the faces around him, and all were in agreement with Lancelot. The harshness of the act was so unlike her. Every one of the men standing there had reason to hold animosity toward Gwen for her part in bringing down Camelot.

“I think we all should consider our actions against Gwen. What happened then is better left in the past,” Darius interjected. “It is her actions now that we should hold her accountable for. And so far there isn’t anything she has done to warrant any animosity.” He let his dark gaze rest pointedly on Viviane, who had the grace to look guilty.

“Darius speaks with wisdom and insight.” Lancelot nodded his approval. “Little has changed since you were known as Sir Percival. Your heart is still as pure and your unbiased view of people is something all of us should strive to achieve. Every one of you here welcomed me without hesitation, yet you hold back with Gwen’s arrival. It’s a slight we all should be ashamed of. Think on this and make amends on the morrow.”

With a small sigh, Viviane nodded in agreement. “I will be back later. Right now, I need to oversee a few things in Avalon. I will think about your words, Lancelot.” With a glimmer of lights, she vanished.

With Vivian’s departure, the others went their separate ways, leaving Darius alone with Simon. His gut churned as his gaze caught and held on those icy eyes. There were things to discuss between them, but not here and not the fuck now. Without a word, he spun on his heels and headed for the front door. He could hear Simon’s muttered curse, then heavy footsteps following him out to his car.

“Where the hell are you going, Darius?”

“I need a drink, in fact, I need a lot of drinks,” he snapped back, opening the door and sliding into the dark comfort, fishing in his pockets for his keys.

The low rumble coming from the engine eased some of the tension from his chest as he revved the motor. The passenger door opened, and Simon maneuvered his long legs inside.

“Seatbelt, now,” Darius growled just before he put the car in reverse. Tires squealed as they fought to find purchase on the pavement. Clearing the driveway, the tires complained again as he jammed the gear into first and screeched out onto the road.

“We need to talk about things, and we can do it now or back at
Fore Play
, your choice, buddy,” Simon bit out over the metallic click of his seatbelt locking into place.