Read Online Guinevere Evermore by Sharan Newman - Free Book Online

bushes in white and lavender blossom. Her hands brushed the tiny petals and she tried to remember to tell Rhianna so they could get the berries in the fall. Then she stared at it, puzzled.
    “There is something on the other side of this. I was there once. I know it.”
    She began to walk along the edge of the bushes. They had grown wild until they were over her head. They wrapped around trees and clambered into the branches. Halfway around, she noticed that the leaves were not the same. There was a space where no bushes grew, only long, thornless vines which curtained the other side. She spread them with her hands and stepped in.
    It was only a clearing, about twenty feet across, covered with wild flowers. Other than that, it was completely empty and perfectly still.
    Guinevere felt as if she had found the key to heaven.
    Slowly, she walked to the gentle rise in the center of the clearing. Violets were blooming there and alyssum. She slipped off her sandals and felt the soft velvet against her toes. The sun was warm and she pulled off her tunic and let her skirt fall on the grass. After a moment, she pulled off her shift, too. She reached out to the sunlight pouring onto her winter-pale body. The warmth curled into her bones and expanded, releasing her. Her hairpins dropped onto the pile of clothing as her braids fell to her knees and unraveled.
    “I have done this before,” she thought. “I was waiting for someone. Was I a priestess then, or only a child?”
    She lay on her back on the hillock, eyes closed but still seeing the orange glow overhead. Her arms stretched out along the grass, bruising the flowers so that their fragrance burst into the warm air. Her fingers pressed into the earth and old incantations came into her mind, arcane syllables intoned to her from the cradle by her nurse. They belonged here. A faint breeze started up and blew her hair across her face and shoulder, brushing against her breasts. There was only one thing missing to complete the enchantment. Guinevere concentrated.
    The vines at the edge of the clearing rustled but she didn’t move.
    “Guinevere.” He had thought he was going to shout it, but he could barely whisper.
    She smiled. “You heard me calling. It must be a strong magic to bring you to me so quickly.”
    “Arthur sent me to see how you were. I was not far when I felt it. I did not know it was you. I didn’t want to follow.”
    She opened her eyes and sat up.
    “It’s too warm for all that riding gear,” she said.
    He looked around at the entrance, hesitating.
    Guinevere laughed. “No one will come. I’ve put a spell on this place.”
    Lancelot nodded. He knew about spells. All the women of his childhood had used them as a matter of course. He began to remove his clothing.
    She waited, watching him, contrasting the brownness of his face and hands with the whiteness of his body. It was an abstract thought, for his appearance no longer mattered to her. He could have been pocked and scarred from shoulder to thigh and still she would have thought him beautiful.
    He walked slowly to her and knelt between her knees. Her hands rested on his shoulders and eased down across his chest. Then, finally, he looked into her eyes. They said more than she ever could. She leaned back and wrapped her legs around his hips, guiding him to her.
    “In the daylight,” she exulted. “At last!”
    His lips were against her throat. The soft gusts of his breath beat a rhythm on her skin. “Without shame,” he whispered.
    And even the most shadowy corner of her soul blazed with joy.
     
     

 
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    “The man murdered three of my messengers, including Gereint, who was a knight. Then he ran north of the wall and Saint Caradoc won’t send him back because he’s been granted sanctuary!” Arthur roared at the unhappy man who had brought the news. “Ligessauc Longhand would shrivel into cinders if he ever touched a gospel book. It is his father’s jewels, donated to the