Page 3 of Propriety (le morte d’Guinevere #1)

Her handmaiden, Lunete, dressed her in silence the following morning, cinching the folds of her dress behind her. Gwen’s stomach was leaping, a cold sweat across the back of her neck.

Whatever Arthur meant to do, whatever he had planned for her — it would happen this morning. Rarely did he call her to court, demanding her presence with his knights and his advisors.

“All finished, your grace.” The older woman chirped, bowing her head as the queen stood.“Are you quite alright, my queen?” Lunete tilted her head as she met Gwen’s eyes in the mirror. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Guinevere didn’t trust herself to speak, so she just gave a curt nod, fingers wringing her dress as she did so.

“Whatever it is, your highness, I’m certain it can’t be that bad.” Her maid had turned, her eyes soft and kind as she looked at the nervous queen. “You’re a good one, Guinevere. Don’t let anyone tell you differently, your grace.”

She walked away saying nothing else, but squeezed Gwen’s arm softly on her way out.

The halls of the palace seemed never ending in the sun's light. The statues seemed to jeer at her as she passed by.

Guinevere’s heart dropped as she neared the door to his meeting chamber, already hearing a commotion in the room. If he deemed her late, she would be in far greater trouble than she already found herself in.

She slid through the cracked door quietly, head down as she pressed back against the wall, waiting for acknowledgement. Her husband laughed, the sound foreign to her ears, echoing off of the walls around her.

She dared a glance in his direction, and found him clasping arms with a man taller than he, dark hair tied up on top of his head. Her husband grinned and slapped the man on the back, gesturing towards the table. “Please, Lancelot, it would be the highest honor to have you take a place at my table.”

“A knight of Camelot?” The visitor scoffed, shaking his head.

Her heart lodged in her throat, eyes wide as she cast them quickly down to her feet once more.

Surely-

It wasn’t possible.

“You’re a flatterer, Arthur,”

“That’s king to you, my old friend.”

“I’m not knight material, Arthur. ”

Her tongue turned to ash in her mouth, limbs suddenly leaden as she stood there, praying that God had sent a cruel trick to her. Praying that she might wake up from a deserved nightmare.

“Very well then, a test, a trial of sorts. To prove that you are knight material.” Gwen wasn’t sure she had ever heard such a lightness in her husband’s voice. “Stick around, old friend. Wouldn’t it be nice to stay in one place? ”

The other man, Lancelot , laughed. The sound of it filled her very bones with a feeling of delight.

She bit down on her tongue, forcing such thoughts out of her head.She was the queen, not a schoolgirl, not a woman with a dowry. Guinevere chided herself.

“I’ll take your test, fool, but this is not a promise of permanency. I go where I please. Perhaps Camelot can please me, for now.” Arthur gripped the man on the arm, turning him to face…

Her.

The dark-haired man let out a low whistle as their eyes met briefly. Her eyes darted to her husband, praying that he couldn’t hear her rapid heartbeat from where they stood. “She’s quite the pretty dove, your highness.” The knight-to-be mentioned, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“My queen, Lancelot — Guinevere.” Arthur held his hand out, beckoning for her to come closer.

Did he know?

Was this her punishment?

“My darling, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to a man I have known for longer than I have known myself. Lancelot du Lac, vagabond and troublemaker.” Arthur took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips with a gentle kiss.

“You honor us with your presence, sir,” Gwen muttered, avoiding looking at him at all costs. Even with a mask on, she would recognize that smirk, the arrogance in his eyes, anywhere.

Even after just one night, he had left such an imprint on her very being, she couldn’t shake him. “Ever the dutiful queen,” her husband murmured, cutting his eyes slightly in her direction.

Arthur’s hands were on her waist, dragging her to him. “She is said to be the most beautiful woman in the world, du Lac.” Brushing her hair off of her neck, he placed a less-than-chaste kiss to the skin of her throat, nipping gently.

Her breathing hitched, a gentle blush fluttering across her cheeks. As her husband’s hands travelled inappropriately across her curves, she stole a glance at Lancelot. He stood, watching through hooded eyes.

He quirked an eyebrow.

A question for her alone.

Arthur pinched her chin in his fingers, turning her to face him fully. His mouth descended on her roughly, giving her no choice. Gwen balled her hands into fists at her side as her husband’s hand moved into her hair, easily undoing her maid’s hard work.

She stifled a gasp when his tongue forced its way into her mouth, leaving decorum on the floor as he claimed her in front of his guest. His hand moved down her side, clutching roughly at her hip.

“My King,” she breathed against his lips, desperately trying to break free of the ironclad grasp he had on her. She felt tears burn behind her eyes.

Never had she felt more humiliated than at this very moment. With her husband, the king , using her in the middle of his court.

He pulled away, panting. He had a pleased look in his eyes, entirely too happy with himself. “My wife,” He started, narrowing his eyes as he watched her. “Has a tendency to… disobey.”

If her face had been flushed before, she was certain it was redder than her own hair, now. Her heart was in her stomach. She bit her lip to keep her tears at bay.

“You married a redhead, brother.” Lancelot cut in, but there wasn’t nearly the mirth in his voice that had been present before. “Did you expect utter compliance?”

“I expected compliance to her king, old friend.” His voice was sharp, perhaps even cruel.

Gwen wanted to run, to hide away.

“What does your poor wife have to do with me, you old bastard?” Lancelot asked, rolling his head to look at Arthur.

He almost seemed… bored.

“Your test, a trial by fire, if you may, is her. ” He jerked his chin in her direction. “Keep her in place, keep her in line.”

“Arthur-” She started, lips trembling as she fought back tears.

“No more, wife.” He remarked over his shoulder, not sparing her a glance. “I have made my decision. You need supervision. Who better than the man I trust most?”

“Now, your greatness, I haven’t agreed.” Lancelot interjected, but his eyes never left her shaking frame.

“But you will.” The king answered. “I could offer you your heart’s desires, du Lac. A wife? Fine. All the gold you could dream of? It’s yours. Life is simple as a knight, my friend.”

“And if those things aren’t my heart’s desires?” Arthur was looking at his throne, at his table where his compatriots would sit.

Lancelot was looking at her. His eyes never faltered, narrowing as he looked her up and down. He couldn’t know who she was. It had been dark. She had barely spoken to him. She was as much a stranger to him now as she was last night.

“Fine.” He answered the king, not waiting for a response. “But if she is to be my charge, it will be at my discretion. I will decide what is the best way to… handle her, your grace. ”

She felt so small, just a pawn in the games these men played. She never should have left her room last night. She should have stayed in bed, safe and alone.

“By all means, my friend, whatever means necessary. Just-” he turned to face them, eyes dark, “No bruises, no marks. She is still the queen.”

“I would never indulge your fantasies of harming her, Arthur.”

“My… My fantasies? Brother, you’ve got it wrong. She is asking to be reprimanded. Her actions beg for punishment.”

“We’ll see.” Lancelot bowed deep before her. “My lady, show me to your quarters, please. I will need a room near your queen in order to safely supervise, Arthur.”

“I will see it done, my friend. Good luck to you, du Lac. She is suddenly so strong willed. It will be good to see her broken.”