Chapter 8 — What I Want

The clouds in the sky were illuminated with the morning twilight and although the sun was yet to show itself, the reddening sky seemed to promise a hot day for the Kingdom of Camelot. Experienced workers sighting the dawn began to make arrangements to stay cool throughout the day.

The fifth prince and his tutor paid no heed to the weather, their only concern attacking each other. They stood in the centre of the training field, weapons high and pointed to each other. The maids and servants that usually surrounded the prince, ready to cater to his every need, had been dismissed so that they were truly alone in the space.

“Again,” Guinevere beckoned to the prince, and Arthur tightened his grip on the sword, closing the distance between them in a swift run. Every step he took was strategic, intent on gaining the advantage in the tussle. He was taller and had the advantage in power but he’d since learnt not to underestimate Guinevere.

He swung the sword in a sharp downward arc and although Guinevere had seen numerous knights and plenty of battlefields, she was thoroughly impressed with his skill. Leaning slightly to the left to escape the blade, she thrust her sword forward sharply. Arthur dodged the blow as she'd expected him to and retaliated with a flick of his sword that would have certainly given her a lasting scar on her face if she was any less skilled.

But Guinevere was a knight of matchless ability. Her only handicap was the child’s body she currently inhabited. Nevertheless, she was able to parry the blow at such a distance, the clang of their steel swords ringing in the morning air.

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly at the almost impossible action and Guinevere smiled, looking into his eyes over the cross of their blades.

“Fear not, Your Highness. I will make sure that Your Highness can do this and more. Trust me."

They lowered their blades and took a step back simultaneously. Guinevere raised her gaze to the red of dawn breaking.

“I am glad that Your Highness trusted me with the knowledge of your swordsmanship. I appreciate it.”

“Do not mistake my intentions, teacher. I only wish to improve my skills and while I acknowledge your expertise, I do not trust you.”

Guinevere returned her gaze to the young prince and felt a smile curve her lips.

At least, he was being honest about it.

A month ago, the nice and courteous prince façade was still in place and had no hope of being dislodged but now, the prince could openly say he distrusted her. It was progress.

“I understand, Your Highness. I am here for you. Use me to your heart’s content.”

Arthur frowned at that statement and Guinevere also noticed that the prince had become more expressive. Guinevere briefly wondered if she was not overestimating him. He was a child, despite his intellect and prowess with a blade.

When she immersed him in the pursuit of revenge for her sake, she would be robbing him of this fragile childhood. The opportunity to live and love freely. Yes, that life may have been an illusion in the royal palace but it was surely better than the hatred she sought to plunge him into.

Guilt made her heart throb but Guinevere clenched her teeth and shook the feeling off. “Let us spar once more. Then we will go over the basic positions again.”

Arthur nodded and walked a distance away. His gaze was determined and Guinevere could glimpse the warrior he would go on to become. There might come a time when he could defeat her in sword combat and Guinevere could only hope that by then, she had him completely under her control.

Arthur’s sword arrived in front of her and disrupted her line of thought. After about five minutes of hard sparring, Guinevere called the session to a close.

“Excellent,” she said and she meant it. He had managed to make her dodge more than once. “You are truly excellent. I just wish you had shown me this part of you earlier, Your Highness.”

Her response was silence as the prince lowered his blade. Both of them were aware of the reason Arthur could not display his aptitude for the sword earlier. To avoid attracting the attention of his siblings that viewed him as a non-contender for the throne.

Walking to the one end of the training field, Arthur wiped the sweat off his brow with one hand and used the other to replace the sword on the rack. He glanced at Guinevere, who returned his gaze from across the training field with a smile. The prince had something to say, but he seemed to be preparing a sequence of words in his mind.

Guinevere waited, watching him strip his leather gloves off. She knew that the prince did not trust her but at least, he acknowledged her prowess with the chess match and now, with this bout of sparring. She had gotten through one of his barriers and had a feeling she was going to get through another one soon.

Why?

Tomorrow was the day that the fifth prince usually set aside for visiting his infirm mother. He had not said anything yesterday when she baited him by stating all the study sessions they would have throughout the week.

But now, that the day was almost over if he wanted to visit his mother tomorrow, he would have to explain the reason for his absence tomorrow.

Guinevere’s eyes trailed his movements as he removed the sword sheath at his waist. He had his back to her but Guinevere knew that he was ready to speak and true to her expectation, Arthur turned and walked towards her.

Schooling her expression, Guinevere met Arthur's eyes briefly and caught a glimpse of the dangerous look in his eyes.

He stopped in front of her and said, “Teacher, I would like to request some time off to visit my mother tomorrow.”

His mother, the fourth concubine.

His gaze, the tension in his shoulders and the low timbre of his voice told her that Arthur was viciously protective of her and for good reason. The fourth concubine was the most favoured and that earned her adoration of the public and the corresponding ire of the royals. Plots against her were not rare.

Therefore, Guinevere understood clearly that the look in his eyes was a warning. He still had not figured out her true intentions and this was the first time he would talk about his mother in front of her.

Treading carefully, Guinevere looked in the direction the fourth concubine’s villa was. “That would be fine, Your Highness. We can postpone the study to another time. Whenever you are free.”

“Thank you for your consideration.” He seemed to release a breath. Guinevere, however, was not done.

“If you are grateful, Your Highness, perhaps I will be allowed to accompany you.” Guinevere requested in as soft a voice as she could manage yet Arthur's coal eyes hardened. The air around them thickened; the warm breeze of the morning turning icy.

Arthur’s expression cautioned her, telling her to withdraw the request. But Guinevere paid the signal no mind. At the point of her death, the Arthur Pendragon she knew was not a contender for the throne. But the wizard had said that Arthur became the greatest king Camelot ever had.

She had been asking herself: What brought about the change? Why did the prince suddenly decide to contend to the throne?

One thing she knew was that the fourth concubine was not alive by the time death had come for her on that snowy hill. Was her death the turning point for Arthur?

She did not know but she intended to be close enough to find out.

“It will be an honour to see the Her Highness, the fourth concubine,” Guinevere said, adding a curtsy for good measure.

Arthur’s face did not show any visible but he spoke in a controlled voice. “I’m sure she will be happy to meet with you as well, teacher.” With that, he spun around and left the training field, his gait full of mistrust.

He will watch me even more closely after this. Maybe he will even send more people to shadow me.

Briefly chuckling, Guinevere disarmed herself, wondering about the fickle thing that was fate.

***

Guinevere stood in front of the full-length mirror. She turned slightly to the left and the right, inspecting her appearance. It did not need to be said that her wardrobe as a baron's daughter and as the tutor of the fifth prince were as different as night and day.

The quality of the material, the craftsmanship and the design. Everything was on a completely different level.

Regardless of the upgrade, Guinevere was not interested in blowing away onlookers with her clothing choices. She was garbed in an uncomplicated bright orange gown cinched at the waist and her hair was pulled back in a large braid. Her shoes with short silver block heels and the only accessory she wore was a matching silver bracelet.

All in all, she looked like she was simply going for a stroll about the imperial gardens and not paying a visit to the fourth concubine of Camelot. Guinevere did not want to make a drastic impression on the prince’s mother.

She just wanted to be noticed and commented on in passing and hopefully, favourably. Too intense of a first impression and the concubine may say something to her son that would undo all of her efforts so far and block any further moves she may try to make on Arthur.

“Is the dress to your liking, milady?”

Guinevere glanced at the maid behind her through the mirror and smiled. “Yes, it is.”

***

The carriage, drawn by four mighty horses, rolled down the paved street, clattering loudly as it made its way to the Fourth concubine’s palace. The inside of the carriage, however, was as silent as could be. Guinevere sat on the plush cushion opposite her pupil, observing him out of the corner of her eye.

He was silent, face arranged in a thoughtful gaze. She briefly wondered which of his parents he took after more. The cunning, dark side of him she instantly knew came his father, Uther. What, then, did this young prince inherit from his mother?

Guinevere realized she did not know anything about the prince’s mother. In her previous life, she was not in any way privileged enough to come in contact with the members of the royal family. Thus, she had not one idea what Igraine, the fourth concubine was truly like.

She had heard from the servants and guards that she was a woman with enchanting beauty but Guinevere took those sayings with more than a pinch of salt, seeing as it was a crime punishable by death to speak ill of the royal family.

While she was engrossed in her thoughts, the carriage gently halted in front of the palace where Igraine resided. Alighting, Guinevere examined her surroundings and marvelled at the splendour displayed in front of her.

It was a delightful structure, one befitting a concubine of the king.

Expecting them, a servant swiftly opened the door and led them inside the hall. He directed them to a sunroom and informed them that the fourth concubine would be with them shortly. The two sat around a small white table; Arthur politely pulling a chair back for Guinevere. A few minutes later, the door swung opened and Igraine Pendragon stepped in, a large tray in her hands.

Guinevere and Arthur rose as one to welcome her and once again, Guinevere found herself at a loss for words.

The most favoured concubine was dressed in a beautiful lilac gown, her black hair encircling her oval face and flowing to her waist. In terms of physical appearance, it was immediately visible where Arthur got his statue-like handsomeness from.

Igraine was like a flower, delicate and dazzling. The sight of her bringing in a tray of refreshments when she had an army of servants at her beck and call was a strange one but it showed Guinevere the kind of woman she was.

Once she was close enough, Arthur reached for the tray and placed it on the table. “Mother,” he said, placing a tender hand on her back. “How are you feeling today?”

“Splendid,” Igraine responded, beaming at her son. Turning the smile at Guinevere, she said, “It is nice to meet you, lady.”

“The honour is all mine,” Guinevere said, curtsying.

Igraine waved the compliment away. “Please, have a seat.” They all settled down and the concubine offered Guinevere a cup of tea from the tray. “It truly is great to see you. I do not usually get visitors.”

What an odd thing for the king’s concubine to say. She should have been swamped with visitors, everyone trying to curry some royal favour. Guinevere raised her cup of tea to her lips to delay answering, took a sip and wondered. It was well known that Arthur was in Morgause's firing line but his mother too?

“That is a pity, Your Highness. You are such a kind host.”

“Oh, you flatter me.” gesturing to Arthur, she added, “How are his studies coming along? I hope he is focused.”

Arthur shook his head in amusement. “Of course, I am, Mother.”

“Yes, I trust you. You are a very smart son.”

The prince flushed at the compliment, smiling tenderly at his mother as Guinevere watched from the other side of the table.

The two of them, bathed in the sunlight, gleamed with unmatched iridescence. They seemed like angels, holy and inviolable. She, however, felt like a demon, tainted so much so, she dedicated her second chance at life to the pursuit of vengeance.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Guinevere shot up from her seat, startling the mother-son duo. Ever the considerate host, Igraine promptly asked, “Is there a problem, lady?”

Clamping down on her stray emotions, Guinevere smiled and responded, aware of Arthur’s sharp eyes. “No, not at all. I would like to use the washroom.”

“Not a problem,” Igraine smiled and directed a maid to assist her.

Guinevere followed the maid out and once, she entered the restroom, shut the door behind her and leaned back on the wood. Closing her eyes, she exhaled and tried to bring her thumping heart under control. There was no turning back now. She had decided that revenge was what she wanted. There was no room for silly regrets.

When the sun had set, and it was time to go, they bid Igraine goodbye—Arthur with a kiss and Guinevere with a curtsy—and walked side by side out of the palace. The coachman stood with the carriage, waiting patiently for them. Instead of heading to the carriage, however, Arthur stopped and tilted his head towards her.

“It is a beautiful evening. Do you mind if we walk for a bit of the journey, teacher?”

“No, I do not, Your Highness.”

Beckoning the coachman, Arthur gave him instructions to meet them with the carriage a distance away and then, gestured to the cobbled street by their left.

“Shall we?” he said and without waiting for an answer, began making his way down the street, hands behind his back.

She trailed after him, keeping with his pace. Step after step and Guinevere could feel him relax, the tension seeping out of him and into the evening air. Unbidden, laughter bubbled in her throat and she chuckled softly at the prince’s antics. Arthur turned a questioning gaze to her and Guinevere smirked at him, her lips glittering under the silver moon.

“Your Highness, I will never do anything to harm, Her Highness, the fourth concubine.”

It was a simple sentence. Arthur's reaction was anything but. Coming to a stop, he swivelled around to face her. He stood directly under a lamp, the orange light setting his features into a frightening cast.

“If you attempt anything funny, I will make you wish you were never born.”

Oh, dear. She had stoked the sleeping beast.

Closing the distance between them with a slow, predatory walk, Arthur wrapped his hand around Guinevere’s neck, squeezing hard.

“I do not know what it is that you have planned but I can tell you that you will not succeed.” The grip around her neck tightened. “If you try to hurt my mother, I will flay you myself.”

Despite her restricted airflow, Guinevere was quite pleased with his reaction. The boy looked at her with such a fearsome gaze was the boy she truly wanted to tame. Yes, it was useful to have the cunning and clever part of him under her control but Guinevere also knew that intelligence and rationality could all be thrown away in a second if need be.

This fierce warrior was the one she had to be in control of at all times.

“What do you want with my mother? Is that why you applied to become my tutor? To get to my mother?” He growled. After a few seconds of no response, he shook her. “Answer me.”

Guinevere said nothing, forcing her body to remain limp while struggling to breathe. She could overpower him if she chose to but she decided to let him regain his rationality. And he did. a few seconds later, the hand blocking her airway loosened and Guinevere gasped with the sudden influx of air.

Taking a moment to steady herself, she watched as Arthur concealed that part of him, sheathing it carefully like an overly sharp blade.

“I will never hurt or harm Her Highness,” Guinevere said calmly. She wanted Arthur to understand this. “I can see you are tense and I will not ask you to trust me. I just want you to know this. I will never hurt Your Highness’s mother.”

Guinevere made sure Arthur could feel the intensity in her words. What the words served to do, he had no idea. She held his gaze longer than courtesy allowed, letting him feel the verity in her words.

“I will never hurt Her Highness,” Guinevere repeated.

“Then,” Arthur said, closing the gap between them, “what is it you want?”

Guinevere shook her head slightly, saying nothing. They remained that way for a few seconds before Arthur stepped back and clasped both his hands at his back. He resumed walking down the avenue and Guinevere followed after him, eyes on his back. She raised a hand to her neck and caressed the fresh bruises.

What do I want? Why, you, of course.