“Thank you,” Arthur said. “And listen to me. Listen well, my friends. I do truly appreciate your loyalty, but in this case it is misplaced. Sir Lancelot is a true and loyal soldier, committed to Camelot. Just yesterday he was willing to battle to save our land, and both of you, should you have needed his aid, he would have . . . would have . . .”
“He would have had your backs,” Isabel said.
Arthur did groan this time. “Thank you, Countess. Allow me to take it from here?”
“All yours.”
He heard Gwen’s soft sobbing and Isabel saying, “It’s okay now, Gwen. All is well. Arthur is on the case.”
He nearly laughed, because he knew not what that meant, either, and by the puzzled looks both James and his son shot him, he was not alone in this. Thank goodness ’twas not just him.
“Lancelot has not betrayed me or Camelot. He merely followed his heart. With my complete acceptance. You will not, you will
“Yes, m’lord,” Michael mumbled.
“Yes, King Arthur,” David said. “We but wanted to show our loyalty to our king.”
“I very much appreciate that. But ’tis not necessary. Yet please understand that I care very much for the good health and well-being of Sir Lancelot, and will take very harsh measures to any who would harm him. Is that clear to one and all who are standing about listening?”
Which, as it happened, ’twas many.
“Yea,” those many answered.
“The laws of Camelot are about to take a turn. I will not announce at this moment what they entail, but I assure you that neither Lance, nor Gwen, nor Isabel, nor I, for that matter, are guilty of any crime against the crown. We merely”—he shook his head, not quite certain what the correct words were, and would not you know it, Isabel chose this time to remain silent—“chose to take differing paths to happiness.
“I believe that every human deserves to choose which path, do you not think?”
“Hell, yes,” Isabel said.
“And now she speaks up,” he said to Mordred.
Mordred grinned. “You must admit, Father, she chooses her moments rather well.”
He pulled his son to him and gave him a hug. But not for Isabel choosing moments, the rift between them might still be a relentless divide. “I fear I am never going to tame that woman,” he said.
“I have high hopes you do not,” Mordred said. “Life would be so dull around here.”
He released Mordred, his heart full. For the newfound relationship with his son and the promise of many tomorrows with Isabel.
He raised his hands. “Then we are all now of the same mind? No harm shall befall Lance.”
“Yea, my king,” many said.
“Good. The drama is over. Please return to your regularly scheduled feasting. I hear there is much pickled eel to be had at the tables.”
He turned, grinning, knowing he was going to pay mightily for that last jest. He could not wait.
Isabel was still holding on to Gwen, who was still crying in her arms.
“Gwen, see to Lance,” he said. “I have this notion he could use your care at this moment.”
At the tap on his shoulder, he turned back. Lance looked at him, his eyes still troubled. “I am so sorry, King Arthur.”
“’Twas not your fault, Lance. None of this was. I am only sorry that you had to suffer the humiliation of this event. Now please, you and Gwen get out of here. Go to the cottage. Go wherever you choose. Just go and celebrate that Gwen loves you so much that she risked death to proclaim her feelings for you.”
“I ne’er meant—”
“I know. Trust me, I know. And trust also that I am not unhappy. I hold not one bit of ill will. This I swear on my crown.”
Lance lowered his head. “You appear very happy indeed, m’lord.”
“That I am, Lance.”
“You know that I pledge—”
“Yes, yes, I know. And I am grateful. Now go grab Gwen afore she has Isabel wet head to toe with her tears.”
ISABEL couldn’t love a man more. Not a single ounce more. She didn’t know what the future held, she only knew she had never been happier in her life.
“I am so mad at you,” she decided to say to Arthur as the crowd dispersed.
“Why am I so not shocked to hear that, Countess?”
“Would you like to hear why?”
“HaveI a choice? If so, I choose no.”
“Too bad,” she said, but she couldn’t help grinning.
“Now see, I expected this. What have I done now?”
“You have made it impossible not to love you.”
“Does it ever, even for a moment, occur to you that you make no sense at times?”
“Oh, I’ve lived with that one all my life.”
“So this is a bad thing. Your love for me. My love for you.”
“No, that’s the good thing.”
“Okay, I am having you committed,” he said.
“You shouldn’t even know what that means. For crimes against humanity?”
“For crimes against sanity. Why, then, are you angry with me?”
“Because, m’lord, you are so wonderful, it makes my heart crazy. I have more of a cardio workout just watching you be you than I ever have on my NordicTrack.”
“Once again, no sense.”
“I love you so much.”
“Oh, I definitely do understand that one. And I return that feeling, more than tenfold. May I ask what brought on this . . . strange conversation?”
“I admire everything about you. I love everything about you. The way you handle and care for your people, the way you want to make the world a better place, the way you believe in honesty, just everything.”
He stopped her. “Are you truly weeping, Isabel?”
“May I lie?” she asked, trying desperately to get the tears under control.
“You could. But then you would be lying.”
“Oh, man, your logic simply amazes me.”
“What is it? Please, help me here, love. I admit I am at a loss.”
“Come on, Father, she is happily in love with you. Any idiot would be able to see that.”
“What he said,” Isabel said.
“Thank you much for that explanation, my son. Now I understand completely.”
He pulled her close, and Isabel marveled that his warmth and scent was engrained in her memory forever.
“Your warmth and scent are so much a part of me,” Arthur said.
She knew—she didn’t know how she knew, but she did—somehow this all was coming to an end.
Great. Just fucking great. She had just found love and somehow she was about to be forced to make a
