Camelot's Queen (Guinevere's Tale Book 2) by Nicole Evelina

Author:Nicole Evelina [Evelina, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nicole Evelina
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The sun was setting two nights later when we approached Cadbury. The fortress could be seen from a long way off, silhouetted against a red sky. After six months of fearing I’d never see home again, I practically ran toward the gatehouse, heedless of the steep climb up the terraced side of the hill. At some point my energy would give out and I would collapse, that much was certain, but right now, all I wanted was to be within its sheltering walls and see Arthur again.

Lancelot struggled to keep pace with me as we ascended the hill. “Guinevere, slow down. You will injure yourself even more.”

“I don’t care. I’m home. I’m free. It’s over!”

“There is one thing you should know before—”

Lancelot never got to finish his sentence. The guards in the towers spotted us and raised the cry, “Lancelot has returned with the queen.”

Soon the cry was taken up by the other guards and the townspeople. Before we knew it, we were being ushered inside on a wave of people, some of whom I recognized, others who were strangers, but all were equally joyful. I smiled and waved to them all, so relived to be home, to be safe.

“Make way for the queen,” they cried one after another until the doors of the great hall opened.

I was prepared to run into Arthur’s arms, but what I saw stopped me cold. Morgan stood next to Arthur, her sly, catlike smile in full effect. Her hands rested on the shoulders of a boy of about four years who was watching me curiously. Arthur was sitting in his usual place, an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Morgan—I—you are the last person I expected to welcome me home.” My voice sounded false even to my own ears.

“Welcome to our home,” she corrected, looking up at Arthur with affection.

It took me a moment to process this. Morgan was in the place of the queen—in my place. What had Lancelot said? Arthur had married someone he’d known before he met me. But that woman couldn’t possibly be Morgan. She had been in Avalon—at least until the incident with the poison… then I remembered the vision I’d had as I looked into Merlin’s eyes at Corbenic when he told me of Morgan’s fate. It was this exact scene. Morgan had been standing with her hand on her son’s—their son’s—shoulder.

Arthur finally stood, arms outstretched, and came to meet me. “Guinevere! The gods be praised. I thought we would never see you again.”

As he embraced me, I was wooden, unable to return his affection in such an odd situation.

It was Morgan who finally drew us apart. “Nor did I.” Her voice was tinged with regret. “We are blessed beyond measure. Is not that right, husband?”

Years of living with her had attuned me to the subtle sarcasm Arthur probably missed. Her use of the word husband, the one which should have been rightfully only mine, stunned me more than if she had delivered a swift blow to my head. Suddenly, it all made sense.

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