Page 68 of The Sword & the Stone

"My fault!" he called out. "I suppose I deserved that for my poor attempt at flirting. I should have known better, your highness." He sketched a bow in my direction, a rueful grin playing at his lips. "I beg your forgiveness for my uncouth behavior. It won't happen again."

Around us, the tension began to dissipate as the gathered fae realized that the confrontation had been defused. But I felt more open and exposed than ever. There were eyes on me now, studying me, realizing exactly who and what I was now that he’d announced it.

As the music and revelry hesitantly resumed around us, I stood frozen in place, my heart pounding and my skin still tingling with the aftershocks of the magic I’d unleashed. I could feel the weight of countless stares, the air thick with hushed whispers and speculative murmurs.

Keir remained where he stood, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. He smiled, slow and sharp, like a wolf baring its fangs. But before he could take a step towards me, a familiar figure interposed itself between us.

Lancelot.

"I believe the lady has made her point abundantly clear," he growled, his voice low and deeper than I’d ever heard from him before. His golden eyes flashed with barely contained fury as he stared Keir down, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Turn around and walk away now. Before I'm tempted to rip your spine out through your throat."

Keir's smile only widened, but a flash of fear passed through his eyes that he couldn’t hide. "Ah, the loyal knight to the rescue. How predictable.”

With a final, lingering look in my direction, Keir turned on his heel and melted into the swirling crowd of dancers, his bronze hair glinting under the enchanted lanterns. The sea of fae parted before him.

Lancelot remained where he stood, his broad shoulders taut with tension as he watched Keir's retreat. In that moment, he looked every inch the fierce, legendary fae warrior. A knight of the round table.

As the music swelled around us again, the dancers spinning and twirling in a dizzying array of color and motion, I reached out to place a hand on Lancelot's arm. The muscles beneath my touch were rigid, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

"Lance," I murmured, my voice soft yet firm. "He's gone. It's over."

Slowly, as if emerging from a trance, Lancelot turned to face me fully. The fury in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a swirl of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. Concern, relief, and something deeper, more intense, that made my breath catch in my throat.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice rough with barely suppressed rage. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over the freckle beneath my eye with a gentleness that caught me off guard.

I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as I savored the warmth of his skin against mine. When I opened them again, I managed a small, reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Really. Just a bit shaken."

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching mine as if looking for any sign of distress or discomfort. "You seemed to handle yourself just fine."

I glanced down at my hands, still half-expecting to see the golden glow of power emanating from my skin. But the runes had faded back to their usual shimmering state. "I don't know what came over me," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lancelot's fingers tightened on my cheek, his touch grounding me in the moment. "Your magic responded to a threat. It protected you, as it should." His voice was low and filled with a quiet awe. "You're getting stronger. Embracing your power now that you’re in Avalon."

Around us, the music shifted, the melody turning softer, more intimate. Couples drew closer, swaying together in a dance that was less about passion and more about connection.

On an impulse, I reached up and took Lancelot's hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away. "Dance with me," I said, less a request and more a gentle command.

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze darting around the crowded courtyard as if searching for a reason to refuse. Then, to my shock, he nodded. "As my queen commands," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Hand in hand, we stepped into the swirling throng of dancers. Lancelot's arm slid around my waist, drawing me close until our bodies were flush, moving as one to the hypnotic rhythm. The heat of him seeped into my skin, chasing away the lingering chill of my encounter with Keir.

As we danced, the world around us seemed to fade away until there was nothing but the music, the warmth of Lancelot's body against mine, and the steady thrum of magic in the air. The melody was haunting and ethereal, and even a bit sensual.

My breath caught in my throat as his hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, his fingers splaying wide across the bare skin exposed by the backless dress. His touch burned like abrand, igniting a fire in my veins that had nothing to do with the magic coursing through me.

"You frustrate me," he murmured, his breath whispering against the shell of my ear.

I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. "And why is that, Sir Lancelot? Do tell."

He was so fucking handsome it almost hurt to look at him. "Because you make me feel things I thought I'd buried. Things I swore I'd never allow myself to feel again."

We turned in a slow circle, our bodies moving in perfect sync to the sensual swell of the music. The air between us crackled with tension.

"And what things might those be?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lancelot's hand tightened on my waist, his fingers digging into my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. "Desire," he growled, his voice rough with barely restrained need. "Longing. A hunger that fucking consumes me."

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. The raw honesty in his words, the vulnerability beneath the fierce exterior, made my heart ache.

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