Chapter 7 — A Game with the Prince

“Welcome, lady. Please have a seat.”

Guinevere raised her head and glanced at the prince. He held out a hand elegantly and gestured to the cushioned seat opposite him. Curtsying again, she walked to the chair, arranged her skirts around her carefully and took the proffered seat.

“Thank you, Your Highness. It is an honour to be in your company.” Her skirts swished quietly as she sat.

At those words, Arthur looked up at her and their eyes met. In that instant, Guinevere felt the air around them suddenly become denser. She paused, as those eyes examined her thoroughly, making her feel like a piece of pottery in the hands of a master sculptor.

Oh, I see. I’ve always wondered how the fifth prince gained the power to rule Camelot. It’s a little clearer now. He might be young but those are very intense eyes.

It was not only his eyes that were intense. The entire aura he emitted was forceful and haunting. Arthur Pendragon was handsome enough to appear surreal to anyone who gazed at him. Guinevere trailed her eyes over his coal hair as the wisps fell over equally dark eyes. He was at the age where she could see the man he would become while his face structure still retained the vestiges of childhood.

But that was not what was surreal about him. It was his countenance that was strange. He seemed calm and content. Pensive and wise far beyond his years. This little prince was a natural-born leader.

She could see how Camelot blossomed under his control. But she could not see how he got that control. Despite the confidence in his posture, his position in the royal family was always under threat. They were other princes and princesses with solid backing, either militarily or economically or both.

Arthur Pendragon, on the other hand, had nothing. His mother was the most favoured concubine but that drew the hatred and ire of the rest of the family and through strategic roadblocks, they prevented any significant power from falling into his hands even before he was born.

It was an achievement that he even managed to retain enough royal dignity to have his palace and select his servants. Speaking of servants, two maids entered the room, curtsied and approached the table where the two sat.

They placed a variety of cakes, sweets, tarts, and teas on the table between them, curtsied again and left the room.

Arthur remained silent, not moving to touch any of the refreshments and that, of course, meant she could not. There were rules for this kind of thing. Stretching from eye contact to dressing around royals and even how to speak to a royal.

The rules of courtesy when conversing with royalty states that the royal must initiate the conversation, steer the conversation and end the conversation. Therefore, she could not speak unless spoken to.

The silence stretched on while she observed him. Arthur seemed content to allow the silence to continue. She had no idea if he was usually this reticent or if this was a way of putting pressure on her. He sat calmly with his legs crossed and hands placed on the knee. Leaning forward slightly, he finally broke the silence.

“Why did you apply to become my tutor? You must understand the position I am in.”

Guinevere thought back to the examinations that she went through to attain this position. Yes, she was considerably more skilled than all the other applicants but the other applicants did not seem to want to put effort into becoming the prince’s tutor. This was even considering the considerable wealth that came with teaching a member of the ruling family.

It was all because of the prince’s precarious position.

If they became his tutor and assisted him in the struggle for succession, they would be putting themselves in the firing line of the other successors, especially the first princess, Morgause, who was known for her matchless cruelty.

Everyone knew that. But why was the prince asking her so blatantly? Was it a trap?

“It is a privilege beyond compare to tutor you, Your Highness,” Guinevere placed a hand over her heart and bowed slightly. She raised her head and met the prince’s eyes and immediately fought the urge to smile.

Her answer was unsatisfactory, it seemed. Arthur’s eyes flashed with dismissal. He seemed to be placing her into an unfavourable category.

Interesting, Guinevere thought. At such a young age, he had already learnt to classify and group people. It must be tough growing in the castle, she mused.

“Your kind words make me glad, lady. Allow me to call you teacher from here on out,” Arthur said, his voice gentle.

“Thank you for the acknowledgement, Your Highness. I hope that we will get along.”

Arthur smiled, not replying. Guinevere knew that the title was not him acknowledging her. It was a wall that he was putting up between them. He seemed to be telling her: It does not matter what motives, innocent or otherwise, you may have. I will only regard you as a teacher.

Guinevere had no problem with that. She had come here to teach in any case.

“Will you like us to discuss your study schedule now or at another time, Your Highness?”

“We can discuss but after you are done with your refreshments, teacher. It would speak poorly of me if did not allow you some reprieve after your journey.”

So polite. If she judged him solely based on his appearance and his mannerisms, then she would conclude that Arthur Pendragon was a courteous, kind, young man. In other words, easy prey for the royal family.

But those eyes told a whole different story. They were the eyes of a hunter. Calm, collected, analysing. And she was currently the target. Guinevere did not mind. She picked up a tart from the plates and chewed slowly. If she allowed such a little thing to faze her, then she would not get the revenge that was owed her.

The silence in the room persisted until half of the sweets were cleared. Then the prince spoke.

“Teacher, what lessons are you planning on taking me?”

Guinevere answered in a heartbeat. “Swordsmanship, the art of battle strategy and tactics, law, literature, economics and history.”

Arthur nodded. “I will look forward to the lessons, teacher. Please prepare a written schedule and send it to me. I will assign my assistant to aid you in that task.” He uncrossed his legs and rose after speaking and Guinevere rose with him.

“I will return to my chambers now. You are free to continue with the refreshments. The maids will escort you to your chambers whenever you are finished.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

Arthur waved off her thanks. “I look forward to working with you, lady.” The prince stretched out a hand and Guinevere placed her hand in his. He brought her laced fingers slowly to his lips and placed a light kiss on them.

This was not “right.” Being a prince of the kingdom, Arthur was not required to give anyone such honour except the queen and the other princesses. But here he was, kissing the hand of a baron’s daughter.

Such a good actor. He is so skilled. I am truly grateful for the opportunity to meet him young. Any older than this and he would be impossible to control.

Unaware of her thoughts, Arthur released her and took his leave. Guinevere sat back down but only for a moment. All alone in the study, she ran through the events that took place in her mind and could not help the thrill that pumped in her veins.

It would be fun conquering this prince. It would be fun conquering this kingdom.

Rising once again, she walked out of the door and was shown to her room. It was an elegant and well-furnished space. The bed was large and the sheets clean. A wide vanity sat opposite the bed and a mahogany table at the window. The rug was smooth and lush.

This was where she would be spending the next phase of her life. In this room and this palace.

***

“Your Highness, your hips are too tense. Take a wider stance and lower them.”

Guinevere watched as the prince obeyed, his boot scratching the ground as he assumed the new position, sword firm in his hand. She walked a circle around him, observing the new stance with a critical eye.

The morning sun was rising steadily above them, shining over the space they had selected for their swordsmanship training. The space was bordered by a low fence and adjacent to a small but well-furnished building that served as a storage for the weapons, dummies, and armour that they might use in training.

Guinevere had toured the building but decided that they should start with learning the basic positions before anything else. Still, Guinevere thought as she gazed at Arthur’s once again faulty stance, what was the fifth prince trying to accomplish?

She had observed him over three weeks. Every move the prince made was orchestrated to give an observer a predetermined notion. It took close observation to notice the prince’s act, and Guinevere was still not sure it was truly an act. That was how good the prince was.

And to Arthur, Guinevere was one of those observers. He was never truly himself around her and to transform him into a despot, Guinevere needed to get under his skin and into his head.

But like a well-trained soldier, Arthur's defence was tight and impenetrable and she currently had no way of getting past. It was a little frustrating but one evening, Guinevere had an idea.

“Would you like to play a game of chess with me, Your Highness?”

Arthur had invited Guinevere to his study to enjoy a brief snack before they settled in for the night. The prince sat on the same chair where she had met him three weeks ago. At that time, she was utterly focused on the person in the seat and the vengeance he would help her obtain, the environment was blurred out.

Now, she could see the excellent and yet simplistic design of the study. The prince sat in front of a multi-layered white wood shelf, packed with volumes of hardcover books; all of which she could bet Arthur had read.

Arthur’s eyebrow arched. “A game of chess?” Intrigue flashed in his dark eyes but it seemed that logic won over. “I would love to, but I know that my teacher is much better than I am. It would not be nice to lose over and over again.”

Guinevere smiled, expecting the answer. She tapped her finger against her chin, pretending to think briefly. “I know, how about we make a bet? The motivation may move you to win, you never know.”

“A bet?” Arthur said carefully.

“Yes.”

“And what will that be?”

“The loser has to grant the winner one wish. Whatever it may be.”

Silence.

Arthur stared at her with an indiscernible look on his face. but Guinevere could imagine what he was thinking. He thinks I am about to reveal my hand. That maybe if I win, I will confess my true ambitions. So he is thinking that maybe he should let me win and discover what I truly seek by becoming his tutor.

He is still suspicious of me.

Nevertheless, he is also thinking of what might happen if he does not allow me to win. He can make any request of me. Use me in any way he wants. Guinevere did not know and did not want to think of what use he might have for her.

Raising an elegant hand to summon a servant, Arthur curved his lips in a kind but fake smile. "It is quite an attractive offer if I do say so myself."

The servant arrived and Arthur ordered for a chess set to be brought out.

The chess set was made of peach wood, the scent rising as it was placed on the table between them. Guinevere observed the ornately carved pieces, with appreciation plain in her eyes.

“Wow, a master crafter must have made these. They are excellent.”

“I will gift you a set, teacher.”

So polite. He has never made a step out of line. What did it take to get him to this level?

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said with a slight bow. Looking at the board, she asked him, "White or black, which will Your Highness prefer?”

“Make your choice, lady. I will use the other.”

“If that is the case, I will pick the black set, Your Highness.” The black pieces were closer to her and she had no preference. It was a simple choice but the true reason Guinevere selected the black set was that Prince Arthur using white, would have to play first.

It was strange, giving up such an opportunity and the choice elicited a reaction from the prince. Guinevere looked him in the eye, despite propriety and smiled.

The prince was a good actor but even he could not mask the flash of curiosity in his obsidian eyes. The bait had been set. All that was left was to catch the prey. The prince gazed at the board, made a decision, and moved a pawn.

The game had begun.

***

Arthur gazed at the board and smiled. He had lost the game.

At first, he had been undecided as to whether to play with the best of his ability or simply let the woman win. But as the game continued, he found himself unable to resist. He wanted to go toe to toe with this arrogant woman who dared to challenge him to a chess match.

He kept his expressions under tight control but he could not help but feel that she could see through him. The way the light struck her eyes, the intelligence, cruelty and determination simmering just below the surface, Arthur could feel it and more.

Therefore, when both of his knights had fallen to her ruthless strategy, Arthur decided to push this woman to the edge but he had lost. There was no retreat. All the strategies he considered were all dead ends.

He was well and truly trumped. The only silver lining was that he was certain it was not an easy win for her. A second match and it could have swung either way. Anyway, a win is a win.

"It seems like my teacher has won the match."

Guinevere raised her eyes from the board. “Yes, it seems I have.”

This was the moment of truth. Folding his arms, Arthur looked at Guinevere and asked, “What do you want as a reward? Money, an engagement to a viscount or something?”

“I want you to stop the act.”

Her voice was clear and crisp, instantly freezing all the air in his lungs. It took all his prowess to keep his visage disinterested and unaffected.

“Stop what act?” he said, carefully.

“That one.”

“If you want me to refer to you in more casual terms then…”

“I am talking about the way you talk and move so carefully, the way you pretend not to understand the lectures. The way you hold your sword.” Guinevere scoffed with the last statement like she was offended. "Even if you manage to fool me with anything else, Your Highness, you cannot fool me when you hold a sword.” She paused and in a lower tone, continued. “I understand that the fickle royal politics can leave you at a serious disadvantage but I would like it if you were more honest with me, Your Highness. Like I said, stop the act.”

“You want me to trust you?” Arthur asked, brows arched.

“I never said that. I want you to understand that I have seen through you and your façade. So you can stop now.”

Guinevere gazed into those black eyes and understood the magnitude of the gamble she was taking. It could cost her life or even worse, her chance at revenge. But it was a necessary risk. If she allowed Arthur to dictate the rules of their relationship, then she was certain that the prince would keep his wall intact and impenetrable.

The prince in question was silent, content to stare at her. She did not mind.

Rising from her seat, Guinevere looked down at the fifth prince, Arthur Pendragon, and smiled. A rosy, soft smile that hid all the malice and bitterness she carried in her heart.

“Your Highness, we will begin training tomorrow. I expect your best.”

The silk of her skirts hit the chair’s leg as she swiftly spun and walked out of the room. And the doors to the study closed behind her, Guinevere was sure she had won this battle.