Page 40 of The Sword & the Stone

ARTHUR

The unmistakable soundof a throat clearing had me lifting my head, my gaze locking with a pair of striking golden eyes across the embers. Lancelot sat up with his arms draped over his bent knees, his expression unreadable as he watched us with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

"Well," he drawled, his deep voice rougher than usual. "That was quite the show."

Mortification washed over me, heat flooding my cheeks. Scrambling off of Percival, I grabbed for the tattered remains of my tunic, trying in vain to cover up. There was rage in Lancelot’s eyes. The heat of lust and desire too, yes, but rage burned brighter.Did he really hate me that much?

Slowly, I rose to my feet, not bothering to cover my nudity. Let him look his fill, see what his cold disdain and rejection would miss out on since he seemed to want nothing to do with me. I met his gaze head on, refusing to cower.

"If you have something to say, Lancelot, then say it.”

He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, prowling towards me like a great cat stalking its prey. The firelight danced over the sculpted planes of his bare chest, his golden hair burnished to a fiery halo. He was terrifyingly beautiful, like a lion.

"I have quite a lot to say, actually," he growled, coming to a stop mere inches from me. I could feel the heat pouring off his body, the barely leashed power thrumming beneath his skin. "Starting with how spectacularly stupid it was to let down your guard like that."

I bristled at his tone, at the implication that I was some witless maiden who didn't know her own mind. "I wasn't letting down my guard. I was taking what I wanted. There's a difference."

Lancelot's eyes narrowed dangerously as he loomed over me. "Taking what you wanted? And did you spare a single thought for the consequences? For how this could affect the quest, the group dynamics?"

His words stung, but I refused to let it show. Lifting my chin defiantly, I glared right back at him. "I am not some delicate flower, Lancelot. Nor am I a child in need of coddling. Who I choose to fuck is my business and mine alone."

"Not when it puts everything we've worked for at risk!" he snarled, his hand shooting out to grip my upper arm. His touch burned like a brand, sending a shock of awareness straight to my core. "You are the heir apparent, Arthur. Your life,yourchoices, they matter more than some fleeting pleasure."

As I ripped myself out of his grasp, my anger ignited like a blazing fire. “You have no right to judge me or dictate what I do with my body. I am not some object for you to control or be disgusted by just because you’re so unhappy with your own life. I will make my own choices without your approval.”

Lancelot's eyes flashed, his jaw clenching as he took a step closer, invading my personal space. "You think this isabout control? About disgust?" he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I am trying to protect you, Arthur. From yourself and the consequences of your reckless actions."

"I don't need your protection! As if I’m some fragile fucking girl. I am the heir to Camelot's throne, and I will not be lectured by the likes of you."

His hand shot out, fisting in my tangled curls as he yanked my head back, forcing me to meet his blazing gaze. "The likes of me?" he growled, his face a breath from mine. "And what exactly is that, my lady? A fae brute?"

“Yes,” I hissed, trying to ignore the sudden heat that rolled through me at the grip of my hair in his fist.

Percival’s shadows were there in an instant, wrapping around Lancelot. He struggled against their hold, his muscles straining, but Percival's power was too strong.

"Release me," Lancelot snarled, his gaze darting between Percival and me. "This is between the two of us."

"I don't think so," Percival said coolly, coming to stand at my side. His shadows writhed and pulsed, ready to strike at a moment's notice. "You remember our conversation last night, don’t you, Lance?Shegets to choose. Not us."

My gaze bounced between both men.What conversation? Choose what?

I opened my mouth, a sharp retort on the tip of my tongue, when a flicker of movement caught my eye. My head snapped towards the mouth of the cave, every sense suddenly on high alert. Lancelot and Percival must have sensed it too, because they both went utterly still, their gazes fixed on the inky darkness.

Slowly, I reached for Excalibur lying on the bedroll; the sword seemed to hum with anticipation as my fingers closed around the hilt. The blade flared to life, casting an etherealglow that pushed back the shadows, illuminating the jagged rock walls in shimmering golden light.

Lancelot and Percival flanked me, their own weapons drawn and at the ready. The red ruby in the pommel of Lancelot's sword glinted like a drop of blood, while Percival's obsidian daggers seemed to drink in the light, their edges razor sharp.

We waited, barely daring to breathe, as the sounds of footsteps echoed from the mouth of the cave. Multiple sets, if I had to guess.

Just as the tension reached a breaking point, four familiar figures emerged from the gloom. Relief crashed through me, so intense it left me light-headed. I lowered Excalibur, the blade's light dimming as my racing heart began to slow.

Gawain, Galahad, Merlin, and Tristan moved into the light of the fire. A smile tugged at my lips despite the lingering adrenaline. “I almost gutted you all. Announce yourselves next time!”

Gawain grinned, his steel-gray eyes glinting with mischief in the soft light. "Apologies, my lady. We didn't mean to startle you." His gaze flicked over my bare skin, one dark brow arching. "Though it seems we may have interrupted something...interesting."

My eyes locked with Merlin’s as he, too, took in my disheveled appearance in just a tunic and nothing else. If this had happened two days ago, I might have felt guilty, but after the things Mordred had said, I couldn’t muster up an ounce of shame.

There was hurt in Merlin’s blue eyes. He knew exactly what had happened here, and I had a feeling he knew about Gawain too.

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