"This looks like a good place to pass the night," Jack said as they brought their horses to a standstill beside what appeared to be an uninhabited cottage. "Close enough to the river for fresh water and decent grazing for the horses."
Lancelot raised a skeptical eyebrow as he studied the ramshackle building. It was so thickly covered with moss that it was impossible to tell if it even had a door, though he supposed it didn't matter. There were large gaps all around the dwelling where the walls had collapsed in on themselves long ago.
"We'd probably be better off sleeping outside," he remarked as he dismounted and helped Millie do the same. "There's no telling what might be living in there."
Jack ignored him and ducked inside the cottage, only to emerge a few seconds later with a shout of alarm. Lancelot and Millie grinned at each other as he swatted frantically at the cloud of bats that had come swarming out behind him.
Lancelot entered more cautiously, unsheathing his sword and disposing of several rats before inviting the others to join him. Aside from a thick carpet of decaying leaves on the floor, the cottage was completely bare.
"We'll need a fire," Lancelot said as he glanced at Jack. "Can you gather some wood?"
The boy gave him a sullen look. "I thought the point of escaping was that I wouldn't have to take orders anymore. Why don't you get it yourself?"
Lancelot let out a heavy sigh. "I'd be glad to do it, but I need to find us some kind of food before it's too dark to see. Or would you rather wait until morning to eat?"
Soon enough, the room was illuminated by a cheerful fire that chased the chill from the cool night air. A fat trout Lancelot had been fortunate enough to spear began to sizzle on its makeshift spit as they all stared at it hungrily. They devoured the food in silence, none caring about burnt fingers or tongues as they rushed to fill their famished bellies.
"So what are we supposed to do now?" Millie asked after they'd finished. "Where are we supposed to go?"
Those were questions that had haunted Lancelot ever since the excitement of escape had worn off. There'd been no time to think about practical matters such as supplies or gold for their journey on their way out of the fortress.
He patted his empty pockets just in case, then wistfully remembered the coins he'd carefully hidden beneath the mattress in the bedchamber he'd so recently left behind. It hadn't been much, but even a handful of gold could have made a world of difference in their current situation.
"We'll have to find the nearest town and sell the horses, I suppose," he mused thoughtfully. "That should bring enough coin to provide food and shelter for a week or two. And after that..."
"After that... what?" Millie prodded impatiently as he trailed off into silence.
"I'll think of something."
"That's hardly reassuring," she said with a derisive snort, though he could see the uncertainty in her eyes.
"Why are you asking him anyway?" Jack interjected with a scowl. "Why not ask me? Neither of you would even be here without my help. I'm the one who planned the escape and had the guts to carry it out, am I not? If it was up to him, you'd still be..."
Millie glared at him as he spoke, then cut him off before he was finished.
"And you think that makes you so clever? Where are our supplies then? Did you smuggle any food or blankets into the saddlebags? Did you bring any gold that might help us? What exactly did you expect us to do once we were free?"
Jack picked up a stick and poked angrily at the fire. "So much for gratitude."
"All right then," Lancelot said calmly. "Why don't you tell us what you think we should do?"
"Go our separate ways," the boy said after a long silence. "Each of us can find work. Earn gold. Buy ourselves a decent home and live the way we choose. We're free now, aren't we? We can do anything we like."
"And you really believe it's that simple?" Lancelot asked him, attempting to keep the condescending tone out of his voice. Was I ever so naive as this boy? he wondered to himself. Was there ever a time when I believed as he does... that I could just bend the world to my will?
"I'm not afraid of hard work," Jack informed him confidently. "I have no intention of being anyone's servant again, of course, but I'm willing to do almost anything else. Well, except mucking out stables. I don't think I'd enjoy that very much."
Lancelot struggled to keep his real thoughts to himself. "What did you do before you were brought to Greytower? Did you have a trade?"
"I was seven years old when I was taken. Barely even remember where I came from, let alone what I did while I was there. I'm like this one here," he paused and pointed his stick vaguely at Millie. "Only life we've ever known was in that shithole."
Lancelot released a weary sigh and nodded in resignation. "Well, I suppose we can't figure it all out tonight. Let's get some rest and we'll talk about it more tomorrow."
Despite his exhaustion, Lancelot found himself unable to sleep as he stared up at the crescent moon through a large gap in the ceiling. How many months had he spent in captivity? It was disconcerting to realize that he couldn't be sure if the cool air around him was due to a chill autumn breeze or the slow thawing of an approaching spring.
Had a year passed since he'd left Camelot? Or was it two?
For a moment, he longed to lose himself in memories that had lain untouched throughout the recent months. He wanted to remember the cheerful smile and kind blue eyes of a dear friend, to dream of the innocence of first love found in a sweetly intoxicating kiss on a warm summer night.
When he did close his eyes, however, all he could see was the bleak road that lay ahead. It was disheartening to realize he was no better off than he'd been before his capture, especially since this time, it wasn't just himself he had to worry about. What was he supposed to do now?
Jack might be too young and arrogant to understand how difficult it would be to survive on his own, but Millie was a more practical sort. Lancelot had seen the uncertainty in her eyes as she'd looked to him for a solution. She didn't have the first idea how to provide for herself and she knew it.
I'm responsible for them both, he thought uneasily. He had to do something to keep them safe, to be sure they'd have food and shelter. But how? Nothing had changed – the art of combat was the only skill he had to rely on.
Reaching out to touch the sword that lay on the floor beside him, he mindlessly stroked the hilt as a solution began to form in his mind.
Yes, he did still have this. Would it really be so terrible to continue earning a living by the sword? After all, the fighting itself hadn't been bad, only being forced to do it against his will. But on his own terms, all he'd need to do was win the fight and collect his payment, and then move on to the next opportunity. He wouldn't be obligated to serve under anyone's command, nor surrender his freedom again.
But just as he'd begun to feel satisfied with this solution, Lancelot frowned. That life might work well enough for him, but what about the others? He couldn't just drag them from place to place, constantly exposing them to the hard, dangerous men who sought out that type of entertainment.
No, he would have no choice but to leave them behind... but where? They didn't have a place in the world to go, and he certainly didn't have one to offer. He needed gold in order to provide shelter... but he'd have to provide shelter in order to go out and earn that gold to begin with. How was he supposed to manage that?
Lancelot wrestled with the dilemma for quite some time, then finally surrendered with a sigh of defeat as exhaustion took over and his eyelids grew heavy. I'll figure it out when I wake up. Tomorrow, I'll find the answer.
Gwen lay curled on her side, restlessly twirling a corner of blanket around her fingers as she struggled to fall asleep. She closed her eyes several times, only to open them again as the empty silence of the room seemed to close in around her.
With a frustrated sigh, she rose and dressed, then threw a light shawl around her shoulders to ward off the chill of the early spring night before she made her way outside.
Wandering the streets of Camelot at such a late hour was probably not the safest idea, but she felt as if she might scream just to fill the silence if she stayed inside for even a moment longer. She needed to walk, to run, to do anything that might chase away the awful restlessness that plagued her.
It had been this way ever since Arthur had returned to his life at the palace the week before. She'd lain awake each night, missing the rustle of blankets and even the snores that came along with having another person close at hand. Solitude she thought she'd grown used to over the previous year had suddenly become unbearable all over again.
Gwen knew these feelings had nothing to do with Arthur himself. She'd felt much the same in those first terrible weeks after her father had been executed, as if her home was some sort of void she could never quite fill on her own.
These feelings eventually went away before, she reminded herself as she stopped to gaze up at the moon hanging low in the sky above her. This time will be no different. I just have to be patient and let them run their course.
What she knew to be loneliness was simple enough to reconcile in her mind. The other feelings Arthur's visit had stirred inside her were not so easily understood.
It was like a dream to her now. By some strange impulse, she'd given him a favor to wear for luck in the jousting tournament. Why? Perhaps she'd been caught up in the excitement of it all? It had been a lovely fantasy, imagining herself as a highborn lady giving her blessing to a handsome knight as he set out to conquer his enemies... like something out of the legends she'd grown up with as a child.
It had seemed silly right after she'd made the gesture... until Arthur had stared deeply into her eyes, then brought his lips down to meet her own in a lingering kiss.
The Prince of Camelot just kissed me, was all she'd been able to think of at the time. Arthur Pendragon just kissed me. The future king, who could easily choose from all of the most beautiful women in five kingdoms….
It was only after the tournament had ended and Arthur had returned the palace that she'd been able to think about it on a more practical level.
Dwelling on the kiss itself had inevitably brought Lancelot to mind, as she couldn't help but compare the only two men she'd ever experienced in such a way. Lancelot's kisses had been hungry, passionate, causing an intense longing that had made her feel as if she was on the brink of losing control.
Arthur's kiss had been sweet and tender, even surprisingly comfortable for something so unexpected. A relaxing summer day that soothed the senses, rather than a violent thunderstorm that stirred them to a fever pitch.
Gwen would be lying to herself to say that she hadn't enjoyed the experience... but it was nothing like her memory of kissing Lancelot. It had been a pleasant feeling that was enough just as it was, not an overwhelming rush of sensation that had left her desperately craving more.
As she thought about it further, she suddenly realized that the same comparison extended to all her feelings concerning Arthur. There was no point in denying that she felt some affection for him, but it was based on a feeling of safety and comfort, not driving passion and deep emotion.
That's what I felt when he said he cared about me, she realized as she slowly made her way home and undressed for bed. I do care about him in return... but only as a friend. If I felt some small attraction while I was caught up in the moment, well, he's a handsome man. But whatever I may have felt wasn't strong enough to mean anything. I know that now.
The realization brought her a great deal of relief. Even if it were possible she might develop real feelings for Arthur, why even leave herself open to that possibility? What use would there be in falling in love with a man she could never have?
No... she'd had enough of uncertainty and broken hearts caused by men who were forever beyond her reach. Better to keep it limited to friendship on both sides, avoiding any hurt or confusion that would be inevitable if it ever truly crossed those lines.
Satisfied with this conclusion, she tried not to think about the lingering gazes that had begun to follow her around the room whenever Arthur was near. She refused to admit to herself that the look in those blue eyes was swiftly becoming something that went far beyond friendly affection.
Instead, she closed her own eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.