Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [156]
Oh, this could take months. A year. A year in which every moment of every day must be spent in cunning, in persuasion . . . And yes, she would do this. This would serve the greatest good for the land and for the King. Even her leaving and making way for another was not entirely selfish.
But she could not . . . she could not face that year, without having a little joy hoarded up for herself. She needed this; she needed this in ways she had not even been able to imagine before last night.
Besides . . . she looked at Lancelin, at the shadows under his eyes, at the deep bruises on his chest and stomach, at the half-healed wounds on arms, shoulders, and hands . . . he needed this too. Not just the love, he needed the rest. Arthur was hard on his Companions, but Lancelin was harder still on himself. How long had it been since he had actually taken the time to heal? Too long, by the look of things.
So they would not be leaving this morning. And not for several more mornings.
She put her head back down on his chest, let the morning light creep across their bodies and warm them, and drifted off to sleep again in its embrace.
She sat, drooping a little, on the pallet. “I can’t,” she said, quietly but firmly. “I cannot ride today and maybe not tomorrow. I haven’t ridden in over a year. My hips feel as if they have been dislocated, and if I get back on Idris today, I am going to be half crippled.” That was not even a lie—and not much of an exaggeration. “And look at you—” She gestured at him as he stood half clothed in front of her. He was the very image of the Young God to her at that moment—haloed with sunlight, motes of dust drifting about him. She fought back desire that made her body ache and concentrated on winning him. “What if Medraut ambushes us? You are in no fit shape for a fight.”
He opened his mouth to protest. She gave him a measuring look. “Be honest,” she warned. This was Gwenhwyfar the warrior, speaking to Lancelin the warrior, and he recognized it as such.
He shut his mouth. Looked at her with longing that made her feel warm inside. He heard the warrior and wanted the warrior-woman. She seized on his hesitation and capitalized on it. “I need rest,” she said, plaintively. “So do you. And who is being harmed if we take it?” She watched his hesitation fading.
“What about warning Arthur?” he asked, biting his lip.
“Medraut—”
“Medraut dares not make a move against Arthur until he knows where I am and whether I am alive or dead.” She had thought about this long and hard; and truly, if there had been danger that Medraut would act, she would be on that wretched horse this moment. “Gwenhwyfach will probably flee when she knows I have escaped, and even if she does not, Medraut does not dare leave her there for fear of what will happen to her when I do appear. I do not think he trusts her because I do not think he trusts anyone. He won’t risk her betraying him. Arthur is in no worse danger if we remain here long enough to heal.”
“But how do we explain taking so long to return to Celliwig—”
She chuckled. “We were pursued. We were elf-led. We were just plain lost. You were wounded. I was ill or injured. It doesn’t matter. There is no one to dispute what we say.”
He sighed, and his expression turned wistful. “There is truly no danger to Arthur?”
She bit back a sharp retort. Are you more in love with Arthur than with me? It was unfair, unkind . . . and yes, it was somewhat true. The bond that tied him to Arthur was complex. Worship of the office and the man, admiration, friendship, a kinship of spirit . . . yes, it was love. He had loved Arthur long before he had met her. He would love Arthur without regard to Arthur’s flaws. And while she could not help but feel more than a little jealous, this was something that men did, felt. They needed this. Perhaps it was the way that they saw the reflection of the gods on earth in their earthly brothers.
Even Gildas’ monks felt this same passion for their Abbot.
She had seen this many, many times in her men—mostly for her father, sometimes for their