Wonderly Wroth by Yolande Kleinn

Author:Yolande Kleinn [Kleinn, Yolande]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781946316004
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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There's an unsteadiness to the quiet that settles around them after. The fire burns low, spreading heavier shadows throughout Arthur's chambers. The air has gone chill with the fading hearth, and both Arthur and Lancelot have settled beneath the heavy bedclothes. Lancelot lies on his back, the purple jewel pulsing sedately where it rests above his heart.

Arthur's own restlessness cools and calms as he curls against Lancelot's side. He rests his head on Lancelot's shoulder and drapes an arm across his stomach, breathing in time with the rise and fall of Lancelot's chest. He becomes aware again of the ache in his shoulder, but the weak discomfort barely warrants notice.

The silence is both intimate and cautious, and it's Lancelot who reluctantly breaks it.

"You know I can't really stay."

"I know," Arthur agrees, though he wishes he didn't have to. There will be consequences if Lancelot is discovered in his bed. Arthur is the king, but even a king is not above scrutiny. "We have time yet." Scant hours, yes, but time nonetheless.

The first of Arthur's servants will arrive just before sunup, and there are four hours at least until then. For all the sated satisfaction humming beneath Arthur's skin, he's in no danger of falling asleep—and from the sense of Lancelot entwined with their steadying heartbeats, Arthur knows he is not alone.

It's proof of Arthur's trust, and of his faith in Lancelot, that Arthur finally asks, "What happens now?"

Lancelot is silent for a very long time. He trails warm fingers the length of Arthur's spine, cards them through the dark mess of Arthur's hair. Arthur wishes he could decipher clearer thoughts through the connection between them. He doesn't know what to make of this silence, or of the complicated tangle of feelings running fitfully beneath.

When Arthur shifts, intending to move away and offer what space and peace he can, Lancelot's arms tighten about him and prevent any retreat. A possessive ember burns brighter as he tugs Arthur more firmly against him, and Lancelot exhales slowly.

"I think, Sire," he says at last, sounding exhausted but giving off a faint pulse of hope somewhere more intimate, "that what happens now depends on you."

"No." Arthur lays one palm flat over Lancelot's heart, pushing up to look him in the eye. "This is not the king's purview. It is far more complicated."

"I suppose it is," Lancelot concedes. He reaches up to tuck a dark strand of hair behind Arthur's ear. His expression is somber.

Arthur wants to kiss him, abruptly and desperately. It takes conscious will to hold motionless instead. "I'm asking what you want."

"You already know what I want," Lancelot protests, and his brow creases faintly.

"I know what you feel. It is not necessarily the same." He peers down at Lancelot, trying to read straight into his soul. "I don't wish to put you in an untenable position," Arthur says softly. "I know very well how you feel tonight, but what of tomorrow? And the day after that? What of all

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