With My Last Breath (Page 11)

I shook my head in annoyance. What were they thinking? If I could see them, anyone looking down from this level could. I picked up my pace and worked my way down to the ground floor as quickly as I could, being careful to not trip on my long skirts.

Rushing around the final corner, I found that they were still together. My father had her smashed against his hard chest and was stroking one large hand through her hair, all the while staring lovingly into her eyes. My ire rose even higher, but to my frustration, I found that I wasn’t the only one that had discovered them.

Across the courtyard, in another darkened nook, I saw someone else, a man who I didn’t know, watching the queen and Lancelot with interest as he peeled an apple. His dark eyes met mine from across the courtyard and a tiny smile tilted his lips as he gave me a small salute, the knife still in his hands.

My pulse took off like a rocket and I hurried to where my mother and father stood.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "Anyone can see you- in fact, someone has!"

Lancelot seemed unconcerned as he glanced around.

"Where, daughter?" he asked. "I see no one."

I pointed into the direction of the stranger and stopped. My father was correct. The stranger was gone. My heart continued to beat furiously in my chest.

"What if he goes straight to Arthur?" I asked anxiously. "You cannot be found out this way."

"Or what?" he leveled a calm gaze at me. "You are still thinking as though you are a Keeper of Fate. You know that you are not," he admonished. "We do not bow to the whims of the Fates."

"Ares," my mother interrupted gently, laying a hand on his arm. "There is no reason to change anything that happened here. We should do our best to simply find the sword and leave this place as we found it."

She looked lovely today in a peach colored flaunt and ivory underskirt. The overskirt was delicately threaded with webs of tiny pearls. An external corset was tightly laced up at the back and I had to wonder if my father had helped her dress this morning, since I knew that I had not. Her chestnut hair gleamed in the light as she ducked her head toward me, ignoring Lancelot’s grumblings.

"I’m sorry, my sweet," she apologized, reaching out to stroke my cheek. "We didn’t think that anyone could see us. We’ll be more careful."

Courtney Cole 28

With My Last Breath, Book Three

"That is the problem," I muttered. "You didn’t think. And please don’t refer to my father as Ares. He is Lancelot here."

She smiled good-naturedly, not bringing up the fact that here in Camelot, she was queen and I should not be so mouthy. She was accustomed to my cheekiness, however.

I had never managed to overcome it in any life that we had ever lived.

She linked her arm with mine. "Come," she soothed me. "Let us find some breakfast." I allowed her to lead me from the flowering gardens, but I couldn’t resist a parting shot at my father.

"You’re late for morning drills," I called over my shoulder. I could hear him laughing as we rounded the corner and I rolled my eyes.

My mother and I made our way to the main banquet hall, smiling at each curtsying well-wisher along the way. Everyone in this kingdom was enamored with Guinevere.

As always, she had retained her customary charm in this life. Most people clamored to please her.

As we entered the heavy double doors, I took in the festive breakfast atmosphere.

The long tables were lined with rows of candles, ribbons and vivid purple violets, King Arthur’s favorite. The candles were as yet unlit- they were saved for dinner this evening. There were also massive chandeliers made from candles hanging over head, ready for lighting at night fall. Right now, though, the morning sun provided quite enough light, even in this darkened room.

Guinevere took a seat and before she could even move, servants had rushed to provide her with silverware, a linen napkin and a plate of steaming breakfast. I shook my head. It wasn’t merely the fact that she was queen that made people fall in love with her. It was her charm, Aphrodite’s charm. She smiled a brilliant grin at the servant in front of her and dug into her plate with relish.

I waited patiently for mine to arrive, which it did several minutes after Guinevere’s.

Soft white bread, thick peppered bacon slices and warm venison were piled high on the pewter plate in front of me and my mouth watered. I was ravenous.

What I wouldn’t give for some nectar from the Spiritlands, but I settled instead for tepid milk in a heavy mug. Thick cream topped it off and I felt the cool foam stick to my upper lip. My breakfast wasn’t ambrosia and nectar, but it would do.

As I gazed thoughtfully around the room, I examined the servants bustling about.

They all had contented expressions on their faces. They were happy to be working for Arthur, relieved to be safe within the protection of his castle. The kingdom outside of these walls was in a state of unrest and had been for decades. In addition to attacks from beyond our borders, there were even worries of being attacked on the roads by thieves and vagrants. Arthur was doing his best to reign that kind of behavior in and he had made great strides, but it did still exist.

Courtney Cole 29

With My Last Breath, Book Three

But the servants here in the castle’s compound had nothing to fear. I stared out the nearest open window and watched the knights from the roundtable and Arthur himself practicing hand-to-hand combat. They were without their armor this morning and many of them were shirtless, their tanned skin already glistening in the early morning heat. All of them were perfectly toned, a testament to their physical prowess. Not a soul in the kingdom wanted to face these knights in battle.

I sought out my soul mate and found him sparring with Arthur’s brother, Kay. I smiled. Out of all of the knights, besides Lancelot and Lucan, Kay was probably my favorite. Good-natured and strong, he stood a head taller than even Lucan. He always had a smile and a good word for everyone, something that I appreciated. Even in a dire or bleak circumstance, Kay attempted to put everyone around him at ease.

Behind them, I saw Gawain, Arthur’s nephew, going hand-to-hand with Tristan. It seemed strange to refer to him as Arthur’s nephew, because since Arthur’s sister was so much older than he was, he and Gawain were the same age. Gawain’s younger brother, Gareth, was fighting with the king by the edge of the courtyard lawns.

Arthur, a superior swordsman, was clearly letting the younger knight gain the upper hand and he laughed as he began to hold Gareth at bay.