Realm of Kings (Camelot Untold Book 3) by KC Kingmaker

Author:KC Kingmaker [Kingmaker, KC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: .
Published: 2023-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 38

Guinevere

Arthur and I barge into the dining room through a different door than we left through. I’m not exactly sure what path we took to get here—we followed the shouts of terror echoing down the halls, and the trail of blood on the floor.

I steel my heart and expect to walk into a bloodbath.

No one has died yet, though. The prattling noblemen and women aren’t so haughty now. They’re up against a wall, huddled together, vying for hiding positions behind each other. Two have fainted, including Lord Talbot—Dindrane’s wanna-be rapist—and one of the women.

A dozen armed guards stand on the other side of the room and table, swords out, their arms shaking with fear.

Sandwiched between the two groups is Lancelot, stalking back and forth near the center of the table, his head on a swivel as he studies each group of people, nobility and military alike. His wings are furled against his body. His vicious claws drip blood across the floor and surface of the table as he paces. He’s slightly hunched over, monstrous-looking and somehow hesitant to inflict untold devastation on this room of warm bodies.

Thick tension rides the room.

I take a step forward from the door, pulling away from Arthur’s hand as he takes my wrist to try and urge me behind him. My mouth opens—Lancelot hasn’t seen us yet, facing the other way—and I nearly shout his name.

Then I stop, realizing no one in this room knows the identity of the demon yet. Shouting his name for everyone to hear would only put us in more hot water.

“That’s enough!” I boom, my voice rising over the quavering, hushed voices.

Lancelot recognizes my timbre and wheels to lock his black eyes with mine. His mouth peels back, showing jagged fangs, and he lets out a low hum of a growl.

I freeze. Try my best not to wilt like a dying flower. I have to show strength. What do I say? “Heel,” like a dog? “Come, boy?”

Instead of saying any of that, I simply raise my hand toward him and hope to God I know what I’m doing. My fingers curl in a come-hither gesture. I repeat, “That’s enough,” in a lower, softer tone. “You’ve done enough.”

Lancelot bows his head submissively. His giant frame deflates, and he strides toward me and Arthur.

“W-What is that abomination?!” Sir Belview yells, thrusting a finger toward Lancelot.

“I wouldn’t recommend doing that, Belview,” I say, “lest you want to lose everything attached to that finger.”

The color drains from his face. “You’re . . . a sorceress.”

“I am not.”

“Then why does the monster come to you like a hound to heel?”

This asshole’s gotten unreasonably brave since Lancelot showed his back to him. He’s stepped out from the other nobles, squaring his shoulders in some form of defiance.

“He is my protector,” I say, “but I do not control him.”

“What does he need to protect you from?”

Queen Anna? Goblins? Double-crossing Leudonian guardsmen?

“Everyone,” I snarl.

One of the guards steps forward, sword still drawn. “What has happened here? Why

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