The Camelot Betrayal (Camelot Rising 2)

“Oh, yes. That she is.”

Lily’s nose wrinkled. “Her husband is old, though.”

Guinevere laughed. “Not so old.”

“Most of the knights are too old.”

“Too old for what?”

Lily blushed. She had already confessed her plan to get one of them to fall in love with her. It was mercenary of her, but Guinevere did not hold it against her.

“There is one knight who is not so old, who seems unable to form a complete sentence around you,” Guinevere teased.

Lily’s eyes widened as a pretty blush spread across her cheeks, beneath her freckles. What Guinevere had thought was artful before she now saw as sincerity. Lily was not good at hiding her emotions. “He is very sweet, is he not? Not so handsome as King Arthur, of course, or even Sir Tristan, but I like Sir Gawain’s face.”

“Ah, I did not even have to name Sir Gawain, you knew who I spoke of! Yes, he is very sweet, and good, and King Arthur values him. But you do not need to worry or rush. No one is taking you from Camelot. You can marry tomorrow or in twenty years or never.”

Lily wiped under her eyes, then lifted her chin and corrected her posture. “Good. Because you need me. Your plans for the harvest festival were very boring before I got here.”

“They were not!”

“Oh, they were so. Now turn around and let me do your hair.”

Guinevere did as she was told. If encouraging Lily to love her was another deception, at least it was a kind one this time. For both of them.

“Do not say it,” Guinevere growled, radiating menace.

Arthur pursed his lips, his face a picture of innocence. “Say what? That Guinevach is just a girl determined to force her sister to pay attention to her?”

Guinevere elbowed him in the side. “Yes, exactly that. And she prefers to be called Lily.”

He laughed, scooting closer to her and putting his arm behind her. She leaned back to rest against it. They sat beneath a canopy, the rugs and cushions out of place in the middle of a field, but welcome. In front of them Lily was speaking with Sir Gawain, laughing more than Guinevere suspected was justified by whatever the young knight was saying. Everything was gold and blue. The fields midharvest, the cloudless sky, Lily’s hair, Arthur’s tunic. The entire scene was so lovely Guinevere wanted to cry for some reason she could not quite explain.

“Back to it.” Arthur stood, stretching. He was wearing a simple tunic, no chain mail, no crown. All his knights wore the same. Today, they harvested alongside the people of Camelot.

Of course, there was a row of guards watching everything, and the canopy and the food and the cushions and the ladies waiting and watching, but that did not stop Arthur from threshing as skillfully as the hired men next to him and the landowner next to them. In the distance Guinevere could make out Lancelot’s dark curls next to Sir Tristan’s nearly shaved head. There had been no question that Lancelot should do the same work as the other knights, as opposed to staying behind with Guinevere.

It was good. It was better. Lancelot belonged with the knights.

With Sir Gawain following Arthur’s lead back to the fields, Lily retired to the next canopied area and sat beside Dindrane. Their laughter was as bright as the day and just as golden. Guinevere tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

“Where is your maid?” Anna settled in next to her.

“She stayed at the castle with Isolde, my other maid.” Brangien had no desire to sit outside and watch men work. Increasingly whenever possible, Brangien was staying at the castle or going on errands with Isolde. Guinevere respected their space and encouraged them to find a rhythm to their own lives. If she missed her friend, well, she was also happy for her. For both of them.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Anna had a way of being present without demanding anything. It was soothing.

Snatches of conversation drifted over from Dindrane and Lily where they sat with the other knights’ wives and a couple of their older daughters. Guinevere knew all of them, but the thought of walking over and making conversation was exhausting. She much preferred sitting here, feeling the breeze, enjoying being outside. The only thing that could improve it would be to be surrounded by trees instead of fields, but fields had their own sort of tempered beauty.

Eventually the section of field was cleared. Arthur, wholesomely sweaty and flushed with happiness, rejoined Guinevere to eat and drink, until, as all outings eventually did, it turned into a wrestling and sparring match between the knights. Lily laughed and shouted encouragement to Sir Gawain, who was facing off against Lancelot and therefore had not a prayer of success. Arthur and Sir Tristan were dueling with long stalks of wheat. Dindrane had Sir Bors at her side, leaning close to him and whispering something that was turning Sir Bors a deep red beneath his bushy mustache.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Anna said, staring into the distance, “if I walked until I hit the forest and then kept walking and never looked back, would anything change?”

“What?” Guinevere turned toward her.

Anna sat deep in the shade, beneath the canopy’s center. She kept her eyes focused on the horizon. “If I left. If I decided the trappings of this life were not for me. What would change if I removed myself from being Anna, lady’s maid?”

Guinevere was confused and a little unnerved by this topic. It did not seem to fit the general mood of the day. “Do you wish to go back to Cameliard?”