She did not want to understand why Merlin did what he did. But if her actions with Sir Bors were any indication, she might eventually get there.
There was good, and there was evil, but there was so much space between the two.
She shuddered and paced, tugging at her sleeves. She longed to have bare arms. To sit in the winking sunlight, watching as the rays filtered down to her. “There was a dragon.”
Arthur lay back on his bed, rubbing his face. His legs still hung over the side, his feet on the floor. “I heard. Sir Bors killed it.”
“Well. He—” She stopped. Arthur looked so tired. Her heart broke a little, seeing the wear of the last few days. Protecting him from magic was her job. He should not have to make those decisions, nor bear the cost. “Yes. The dragon is gone. Are you well?”
“Tired. But you have been waiting a long time here to speak with me. I am sorry I leave you alone so often. Tell me, what do you need? What can I do for you?”
Her voice betrayed her. She could say so many things. She wanted to move to his side. To rub his weary forehead for him. To curl into him. To tell him about the dragon and how lonely thinking of it made her feel.
She wanted to run her finger along the fullness of his lower lip. To feel his smile against her own. And that was dangerous. As dangerous as what she had done to Sir Tristan in the forest. Because if she lost herself in this pretending, how would she ever be able to protect him?
It hit her with the force of a blow. She sat heavily in a chair, winded. She had already created more problems for Arthur than she had solved. If she truly wanted to serve him, to protect Camelot, she could not do it as his queen.
Arthur could not go against a witch outside his borders. Neither could the queen. But the daughter of Merlin could.
It was time to follow the tendrils of darkness and see where they led. Arthur was safe in Camelot. Whatever was threatening him, it was not here. She would stop it before it arrived.
It would be dangerous and solitary, and now that it was time, she found she did not want to. She wanted to stay here with Arthur, with Brangien, with Mordred and Dindrane and Sir Tristan. She did not want to go back to her life in the forest, with only the animals and the increasingly unfamiliar Merlin. But once she left, there would be no returning. She had become Guinevere to protect Arthur; she would give up Guinevere to do the same.
Perhaps that was what the dragon had been trying to show her. It was time to be alone. Arthur always made the hard choices. She could, too. “I need you to get rid of me.”
Arthur sat up, alarmed. “Has something happened? Did someone see what you did for Sir Tristan?”
Only Mordred. He would not betray her. The thought of not seeing him again made something tight and painful clench in her chest. She shook her head. “I am no use in Camelot. My work threatens your rule. You said as much in the forest. I know where the threat is, who it is. I need to stop it. And I cannot do that as queen.”
Something shifted around Arthur’s warm brown eyes. Gone was the weariness, the sorrow, replaced with…hurt. “Do you want to leave?”
“No! No.” The thought of leaving Arthur behind made tears burn in her eyes. How quickly she had grown to be Guinevere!
Arthur crossed the room to her, kneeling in front of her chair and putting his hands on top of hers. “You are useful to me.”
“My strengths are a liability here. You know it is true.”
His hands tightened around hers. Her breath caught, waiting for what he would say next. “Merlin sent you here. That is reason enough to stay.”
“But—”
He pulled her suddenly close, wrapping his arms around her. Her chin was on his shoulder, the side of his face against hers. “Guinevere. Please. I want you in Camelot. Do not leave. Promise you will not leave.”
She closed her eyes. The heat of his cheek against hers, the slight roughness of his skin. It made her feel real. She had only just learned how to be Guinevere. She worried that alone in the forest, hunting, she would become something new. Darker. Maybe that