Surrender_A Queen's Honor Short Story by Mande Matthews

Author:Mande Matthews [Matthews, Mande]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Guardian Tree Press
Published: 2015-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

***

The glare of sunlight woke me. As I peeled back my eyelids, I beheld the man, King Arthur, sleeping as peacefully as a swaddled babe next to me. His arms wrapped over me, his hand cupping my bare breast. I smiled.

Our night—a sweet dream, it seemed. But as morning’s fog lifted from my mind, more thoughts—thoughts of Guinevere, their marriage, a kingdom, Merlin’s visions—blurred with the memory of our lovemaking. A dread grew in the pit of my stomach.

What have I done?

A knot formed in my throat. Though I hesitated to leave him, I knew I had no choice. I removed his hand from my breast, snuck out from under it and replaced a pillow for my form. Arthur mumbled, smiled and turned, but did not wake.

Oh, Jesu! What have I done? He will be Guinevere’s husband today.

Tears leaked from my eyes. It took all my strength to pull away from him and stand. I wanted to sink to the floor and beg God for some kind of miracle. Some kind of change. Some kind of impossibility that would allow me to stay.

At least now I know what Guinevere must feel for Lancelot.

Though I doubted Guinevere could feel anywhere near what I was experiencing. I have loved Arthur since I was eight. Since he rode into my home and saved all that was dear to me. Guinevere… she’s still a child. A naive and innocent child. A child who will marry Arthur. A child Arthur will bed.

My knees weakened as I crept across the room. Straighten up, I told myself. Be strong. Stronger than the man you love, I heard myself echo my mother’s words.

I grabbed my night shift from the floor where Arthur had flung it after liberating my breasts, after suckling them, after he…

No. Do not think of it, I scolded myself.

But I couldn’t help it. I still felt the ghost of him inside me—a bittersweet soreness. An emptiness.

I slipped on my night shift and ran fingers through my unruly hair as I tiptoed toward the door. Do not look back. Do not.

But I turned anyway. I wished the moment would last a lifetime. Arthur lay with morning’s light shining down on him like a golden god. His lips turned upwards as if in a perpetual smile, even in sleep. The bed linens wrapped around his form, making his figure an enigma, yet the memory of his touch lingered and my skin tingled in response.

Then I spotted my blood stains on the bed linens. There would be no denying what we had done. What I gave. What I had so willingly and recklessly surrendered. And at what cost? To who? For what?

All my years of protection and guidance to Guinevere, who was no less than an adopted younger sister, all of her love and trust on my behalf, and I repay her with the worst sort of disloyalty the night before she weds. I had never imagined it possible to be at once so sweetly happy and so deeply frightened within the same moment.

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