Quest - Book 2 of Queen's Honor - YA + Adult Fantasy Romance and Adventure (10 page)

I smiled at her words, but she continued in a rush, “Guin,”
she pleaded. “Please forgive me. What I have done is unspeakable.”

“Hush, Cousin.” I pulled her close to my side. “There’s no
need for forgiveness.”

“But you don’t know the extent of my betrayal.”

“If you feel for Arthur anywhere near the way I feel for
Lancelot, then I recognize that your actions were born of love. I understand.”

She trembled next to me, trying to hold back her emotions.
“I don’t deserve you.”

“Actually, from the look of both our behaviors, we
absolutely deserve one another.”

“You know I love you, don’t you?” she said.

“You’d better,” I replied.

She sniffed, then giggled.

I leveled my voice. “I may have his hand, Cousin, but you
hold his heart,” I assured her.

She let out a startled intake of breath, then considered my
words. “Once again, our lots hold us prisoners. What will we do?” she asked.

“We will figure it out together this time,” I said, and she
squeezed my hand a bit tighter.

“Which means, no storming off and ignoring me.”

“You can hog tie me if you wish.”

She leaned in and wrapped her arm around my waist, tipping
her head onto my shoulder, and not a single bit of hesitation existed in her
touch.

During our conversation, Arthur had called forth his
inductees and knighted each with a tap to their shoulders by Excalibur.

“Now,” he said, turning to face me, “Who will swear their
oaths to my Queen and join the ranks of the newly formed Queen’s Honor Guard?”

His words took me by surprise, and my mouth swung open until
I managed to close it before a fly made its home inside.

Arthur stared intently at me, and said, “My wedding gift to
you.”

So, this is what Elibel sees in Arthur—a childlike, unbridled
generosity, regardless of the circumstances.
 
All of Arthur’s exterior qualities remained—both
his beauty and charisma, and his less likable qualities of self-interest and sarcasm—but
I realized my anger toward his petty behaviors had blocked me from looking
deeper. I needed to know the reasons he formed his behaviors in the first
place. There was so much more for me to see.

I nodded my acceptance.

“I!” yelled Tor, enthusiastically.
 
He strode forward and centered himself before
the stands.

I proceeded to the front of the platform to stand over him.
Another yelled, and then another, and before I knew it, eight men stood in
front of me.

“And who,” I asked, “will lead my Honor Guard?”

Before he moved, I knew; I felt him—his warmth, his
strength, his calm presence. Lancelot strode forward and knelt before me. He
bowed his head low.

“I will, My Queen,” he said. The richness of his tone flowed
over me like a blanket.

I accepted his proposal with a nod and sweep of my gaze.

"I will protect you by my sword and blood. No harm will
ever come to you while I live. I swear on my honor, Queen Guinevere. I will
love you, and only you, always, as Queen's first knight."

As his oath washed over me, I knew I would love him without
match, from this day forward. My first act as Queen of Camelot was receiving
the rest of the oaths from my Honor Guard and allowing Lancelot to choose his
own kind of happiness.

The second was freeing the white hind.

After climbing down the stairs and onto the field, I strode
with Elibel by my side, and my knights flanking me, to the hind, who stood
against impossible odds, tied in the center of the arena.

I loosened her halter and removed it from her head. She
stilled at my arrival allowing me to whisper to her as I released her. “I could
not do it for Elibel, alas, not for myself either. Even Lancelot has chosen to
be bound. But for you, my
purehearted
friend, run
free.”

Like my mother had said, so long ago, sometimes you can see into
the Otherworld, sometimes into the hearts of men, but more importantly you must
learn to see into the corners of your own heart. I knew in those corners dwelt
a deep and burning love for Lancelot. And yet, I knew my duty—my
honor—remained. I was Queen of Camelot, and an entire country relied on my
servitude. I understood now that the two opposing desires could exist together—both
were my truths—but now the question became, how could I reconcile the demands
of both my duty and my heart?

- Guinevere, Queen of
Camelot

The 11
^th
day of
November in the year of our Lord 536

Written from the abbey at Amesbury

If you enjoyed
Quest, perhaps you’ll enjoy the
ShadowLight
Saga,
also by Mande Matthews. Enter the saga with a short prequel, entitled, The
LightKeepers
, available in its entirety on
Amazon
for free. Here’s a couple chapters to get you started.

Astrid carefully placed her boots over the frozen ground, hoping
her footfalls would not be detected as she slunk along the edge of the creek
bed. Early morning left a coating of hoarfrost on the branches that stuck up
from the banks of the ice covered waters. The young woman slid around the
dormant bushes so as not to disturb the delicate patterns of frost, while she
hunted for enough cover to execute an ambush.
Balin
would come for her soon, and she needed to be prepared.

"I can see your boot marks in the snow!"

The thunder of
Balin's
voice
startled Astrid. Even though she realized her mother's warrior hunted her, she
did not expect him so soon. Her skin quivered underneath the layers of her
mantle and tunic. She tensed, stopping in her tracks, holding herself still.

"The snow betrays your path! You are easy prey to
track, even in this morning's mist!"

Astrid maneuvered closer to the
creekside
underbrush, seeking the concealment of the nearby thicket. Once positioned with
adequate shelter, she crouched. She had hoped to reach higher ground for her
standoff. Instead, she huddled a few paces down from the level of the field,
spying over the edge of the bank into the wintry landscape above, searching for
movement.

The predawn light washed the starkness of the land in a
lavender hue. A blanket of mist obscured long patches of ground, settling
across a meadow that extended toward her makeshift home. Vapor clung in the dip
of the creek bed, providing more camouflage. Astrid hoped it would be enough to
gain the advantage lost by the inferior placement in her surroundings.

Balin's
bulk appeared out of the mist,
a giant of a man with a battle sword drawn and ready. The sheer mass of him was
enough to cow even a war hardened soldier. As tall as Astrid stood for a woman,
she was, nevertheless, an ill match—in both size and experience—against her
mother's chosen guardian.

"A wise decision."
Balin's
voice boomed in the stillness. "The brush of the creek bed keeps snow off
the earth. You can hide your passing."

He knows where I am.
A rush of blood shot into Astrid's limbs. She reached for her sword, feeling
the cold, hard iron press against her palm. With a singular movement, she released
the blade from its cover.

"I can hear the ring of your metal!"
Balin
pointed his massive sword in her direction, gripping
the hilt with both hands; he rumbled across the ground toward her like a
landslide of boulders.

I have betrayed my
position.

Astrid scrambled up the bank, flattening herself against the
snow laden earth, hoping the whiteness of her hair and skin would blend with
the mist and hide her from the warrior's sight. She slithered on her belly away
from the oncoming earthquake of
Balin
, making a wide
circle around him. She sprang to her feet and crept to his backside, training
the tip of her blade at the back of his neck.

Balin
jerked around and smiled,
splitting the muff of hair that covered his lower face. "Your stealth is
superior, but I out reach you. How will you manage when my blade beats yours in
length and heft? You should have taken your lead while you had one. Every
fighter knows one hesitation can be fatal. Have you just committed that deadly
mistake?"

The man's constant jabber rattled her. Astrid knew it was
meant to, but she did not share the same advantage. Silence was her only
option. Silent from birth, her voice had never once sounded—not even a hum, a
sigh of happiness, or a cry for help. The words she spoke remained locked in
her own mind. Those thoughts fired up from her depths and fueled her fury
toward
Balin
.

She pressed forward, into the warrior's guard, forcing him
to step backward in order to meet her blow.

This is for the time
you hunted me down, dragged me home, and stole my only chance at friendship.

Astrid struck at the warrior, remembering the young villager
who had wandered into a remote meadow near their encampment. The girl had
befriended her and invited her back to her family’s farm on the far side of the
valley. When her mother and
Balin
found Astrid, the
brute threw her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and carried her off.
They dismantled their home after her indiscretion with the outsider and moved
yet again, deeper into the
Scandian
wilderness and away
from the prying eyes of strangers.

Balin
blocked her blow, and Astrid
thrust again.

How could the
companionship of one little girl have caused us harm?

The clang of iron against iron spoiled the morning's
quietude as the two jabbed and lunged.

Do you know what it's
like? Being so alone?

"I sense anger in your swing."
Balin
said with a laugh.

Of course, you don't.
You have my mother. You follow her like a dog.

"Anger prolongs your fight, but you cannot outlast one
with my superior strength."

As if to prove his point,
Balin's
next strike sent a tremor through Astrid's body. Her muscles gelled inside her
skin as she struggled to meet his blow. She pushed back, but could not match
him. Instead, she released, rolling to one side as the warrior's sword sliced
into the snow. She continued to spin into a crouch, using the force of the
momentum to thwack the blunt side of her sword against the back of
Balin's
knees. The warrior buckled and crashed downward,
catching himself with his free hand. He scooped a mound of snow into his fist.

"You've discovered my weakness. Height can be a
disadvantage as well as a benefit."

At least I can enter
the
shadowwalk
to ease my loneliness, and you cannot
block me.
Guilt seized her at the thought of the forbidden power, and she hesitated,
losing sight of her surroundings for a moment.

A shower of snow hit her face, blinding her. She heard
Balin
grunt as he moved. Astrid reached up to rub the freezing
wet powder from her eyes, but when her vision cleared
Balin
was nowhere to be seen.

She spun, but something whacked her across the middle of her
back, sending her flying. The force of the blow knocked her several paces
forward, plunging her into the snow. Her face met the bite of frost as she fell
flat on the ground. A chill spread through her. She spat flurries from her
mouth, struggling to get upright.

The frigid tip of
Balin's
blade
pinched the side of her neck, pressing her back down. Caught, she allowed
herself to be guided by his sword as she turned on her back and looked up at
the bear of a man. His bulk hunkered over her as his breath joined the nip of
the morning breeze. Every muscle under her skin tensed.

"You let your thoughts get the best of you, and now
you're a dead woman."

The warrior pulled his sword upward, as if to gain impetus
for the drive through Astrid's skull. She watched the metal recede, transfixed
as the sun's rays caught the iron, casting beams of light upon her.

"Once you engage, you fight to kill or be killed.
Nothing else should cloud your mind or cause you doubt."

Balin
drove the sword downward.
Astrid held still, denying the desire to flinch; she refused to acknowledge the
man or his weapon. The sunbeams blurred as the warrior spiked the tip of his
blade into the ground—a hair's width from Astrid's head.

"Enough sword practice for today." The warrior
extended his hand to help her up.

Astrid ignored his outstretched arm and sprung to her feet,
dusting the whiteness from her mantle and trousers.

Balin
reached for her shoulder,
forcing her to engage him with her gaze. "Trust yourself to be in the
flow. Let instinct take you. Your ability in swiftness and stealth make you a
formidable opponent. You would have defeated me had you not been battling your
thoughts as well."

The familiar pang of tightness formed in Astrid's throat.
She clenched her jaw and turned away.

All my complaints
unheard, all my frustrations remain, and
Balin
tells
me to forget them and focus on an imaginary fight.