Return of the Grail King by Theresa Crater

Author:Theresa Crater
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crystal Star Publishing
Published: 2018-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

Guinevere allowed the polite talk between Arthur, Lancelot, and several of the knights to wash over her like a stream—all about the court of King Hoel, Arthur’s victory against the Saxons and their allies, the challenges of keeping the regional kings loyal. The idea of a united Britain was still new, and as the peace continued, fewer people saw a need for unity. They were slipping back to the old ways. That had been the major reason for her marriage to Arthur.

“That is another reason they’ve sent me. To cement the alliances. The fiefdoms to the east are still restless.”

“Not to mention those to the north,” Arthur added.

Alliances. Was that the only thing life had to offer? Guinevere toyed with the venison on her plate, picked up her mug and drank the honeyed mead, listening to the tenor of Lancelot’s voice more than his words, catching the flash of his eyes when he looked past Arthur to her, watching his long fingers as he gestured or picked up his mug. A languid dreaminess crept through her, relaxing her limbs, warming her belly, making her heart stir awake like the buds on the apple tree in the meadow, promising the green growth of summer, the sweetness of an autumn harvest. She allowed herself to float, imagining the growing season spent with this new addition to court, showing him her favorite glen in the woods.

He had been here only a week, but already he’d won Arthur’s friendship. The two rode together every day, sat in Arthur’s council room going over maps, talking strategy for winning back the lords to the east whose people were a mix of Saxon and Normans as well as English. She saw the admiration for Lancelot in Arthur’s eyes. They’d quickly become as brothers.

The knights had welcomed him. Gawain took it easy on him when practicing in the yard—that is until Lancelot landed Gawain on his backside. Bors the Younger hung around him, eyes shining with hero worship. Gaheris, third son of Arthur’s sister and King Lot, plied him with questions when he could, asking about Llydaw and King Hoel.

Lancelot spared her a few hours, walking out to see the gardens, speaking to her beneath the bows of the orchard. A visitor from the western isles had made it to Llydaw and shared news of her family whom she heard from less and less.

“What do you think, m’lady?” Arthur’s voice jolted her out of her reverie.

Guinevere sat up straighter. “Sorry. I wasn’t following.”

Arthur threw his arm across her shoulders, pulling her closer. She tried not to stiffen. “I was saying rather than riding out immediately, perhaps our cousin could rest here with a few of his men while I visit some of the closer lands who still hold me dear to their hearts. He has traveled far already. His horses could do with more rest. His retinue will swell the number of soldiers I leave to guard Camelot. Not that much is needed in peace times.”

Heat flooded Guinevere’s

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