The Camelot Betrayal (Camelot Rising 2)

“Chicken-catching contest. I could have thought of that.” Guinevere tore another blade of grass from root to tip.

“My queen?” Lancelot leaned her head toward Guinevere.

“There he is!” Guinevere stood. Arthur and his men were visible in the distance, a cloud of dust in their wake. She was sure he would be exhausted and ready to go back to the castle, but she needed to speak here where they were not observed. Where they would not be haunted by the specter of Guinevach hovering somewhere nearby, smiling and pink and lovely.

It felt like it took forever for Arthur to reach them. When he did, he smiled wearily, dismounting and pulling Guinevere in for a hug. “I did not expect you to meet us.”

“I wanted to speak with you. In private.”

Arthur waved his men on. “Go ahead without me. My queen and I will take the long way home.” The knights all went ahead, toward the city, save Lancelot. She gave Arthur and Guinevere a respectful distance, moving out of earshot. Arthur sat on Guinevere’s blanket.

Guinevere sat, too. “How did it go?”

“As well as can be expected. It was useful information, and I am glad to have more connections in that region. You were right that the Pict peace gives us an opportunity to focus elsewhere. How have things been here? Have you accomplished all my duties so I am not required for anything at all?” Arthur smiled, then lay back, his arms behind his head. He was dusty and road-worn but did not seem eager to return to the city. Guinevere lay next to him, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun.

“I have not accomplished them. Someone else has. Guinevach is still here.”

“No!” Arthur shifted to his side, propping himself up on an elbow. He blocked the sun so Guinevere could see again. “What happened?”

“She sent her guards home without her. And now the whole city adores her. Which makes her much more difficult to shuffle out quietly. I have found no evidence of magic, but I was not able to search her rooms very well. Her lady’s maid has only been with her a few months. Allegedly. They could all be lying.” Guinevere shook her head. “I do not know. I cannot know. And that is what is so terrible. I have no idea what Guinevach is up to because I do not know her, but I cannot admit I do not know her!”

“What has she done? She did not reveal your identity, did she?”

“No. But she is everywhere. Talking to everyone. Taking over the harvest planning. Making friends, flirting with knights, giving presents.”

“Is that…bad?”

“Yes! She is very good at all of it!” Guinevere sat up, unable to contain her frustration. “I have had to keep my distance from everyone as I learned what my role was, how to behave, how to do the things that a princess would know. And she already knows it all. She is better than I am at everything, and everyone loves her, and if she is plotting against me, I cannot see how, which means I cannot fight her!”

Arthur took Guinevere’s hand and tugged her back down. She acquiesced with a huff of breath. “I am here now,” Arthur said, keeping her twitching hand in his warm, comforting one. “We will see if there is a threat. But the biggest threat—that she would reveal the truth of your deception—did not happen. And that is a relief,” he said, as if the matter was concluded. “Tell me, how did you like ruling Camelot in my absence?”

Guinevere was not as reassured as Arthur. He had been wrong about how easily Guinevach could be dealt with. In Guinevere’s mind, this meant something more sinister and complex was at work. But Arthur was back, and they would face it all together.

But to his question. How did she like ruling Camelot? “It is a lot of details. Land and crops and storage and market stall space. Who knew what an outrage a single shift in market stalls could ignite?”

Arthur laughed. Guinevere could not help but laugh, too, happy to have this shared moment.

“I will admit,” he said, “it was perhaps not a kindness giving you my tasks. I did not miss those meetings.”

“Let me tell you my ideas for the harvest festival, though!” Guinevere rushed to fill him in before he returned to the castle and Guinevach took credit for everything. Dindrane’s joke about Guinevach stealing her husband had made more of a mark than Guinevere expected. But Guinevach could not lure Arthur to her side. He was Guinevere’s. Arthur listened, commenting and praising, and for that bright hour they were king and queen and Arthur and Guinevere, and everything was going to work out.

It was a relief, having Arthur back. Guinevere had relished the idea of authority, but the reality of it was more of a grinding monotony. Though she vowed to make an effort to be more involved in the actual ruling of Camelot, she was not sorry to pass back the bulk of duties to Arthur.

The next day she made her slow way to the combat arena with Brangien. Isolde did not like crowds and had volunteered to stay behind and see to the day’s work.

“How is Isolde adjusting?” Guinevere asked, leaning on Brangien’s arm. A guard, a

cheerful fellow named George whom Guinevere was fond of, walked at a respectful distance, Lancelot having gone early to the arena. Because it was harvest season, there were likely to be few aspirants; it was more of a training day for younger boys who hoped to become soldiers and whose families were merchants, allowing them the freedom to train instead of work fields.

“It is good to be back together. But she has a lot of healing to do. Some things I think will be different forever. King Mark was— Well. I am not sorry about what you did to him.”

“I am,” Guinevere whispered. “It was wrong.”

“He would have done worse to you. But if it takes the rest of our lives for Isolde to feel safe, then I am committed to that task. She will never be threatened again.”

“Does she like Camelot? Or do you think she would do better somewhere secluded?”

Brangien shook her head, which was a relief. Guinevere wanted what was best for Isolde and hoped to support Brangien in whatever the two women needed, but she did not want to lose her friend. “No, part of what was so horrible for her was that he kept her isolated, allowed her no friends, nothing to do. She was not what he wanted, so he refused to let her be anything at all. Helping others is part of her. This castle, bustling but open, makes her feel safe. And she loves Sir Tristan and Lancelot and you, and is finding a good rhythm with her new work. I think the routine, the busy tasks, they are all helpful. She is sleeping better.”