Hoorah of hoorahs, within the next 4-7 days, I should have all books in the series except The Ballad of Sir Dinadan and The Legend of the King. I know, I need to reread Ballad more than the others...I'll work something out.

No spoilers this time—the "big surprise" at the end is common knowledge. First story takes place at Arthur's wedding. Second is at some indistinct time I made up—it can be after The Squire, his Knight, and his Lady if you like, or before. Third takes place IMMEADIATELY after the end of the first book. Fourth takes place around the second.

Three Times Arthur Danced With Guinevere and One Time He Stood Aside

He was the King of all England, but he was lonely. One look at her and all his worries vanished away. He adored her with every ounce of his being, and he swore he would love her till the day he died. He meant the words he had said just an hour or so before. "May I have this dance, my lady?" he asked now, offering his hand to her and wishing he wasn't blushing like a page.

"Why, of course, charming lord," she answered coyly, taking his hand. They twirled around the courtyard, the pair of lovers recently wed, and all thought of how beautiful she was and how happy he looked.

"I love you, Guinevere," he whispered boldly into her ear as they drew closer at the final step.

A blush sprang across her cheeks and she stammered. "I love you, too, Arthur."

His heart strings tied themselves into a firm knot of joy. She was his and he was hers. It was the happiest day of his life.

Someone, probably a servant sneaking in a romantic moment while the gentry was away, had started a dance. Arthur didn't mind—he loved it, in fact. It was not often one could return from a tournament field and find his castle staff alive with revelry. And this was no court reel, but a scandalous country romp.

He grinned at the sight of not only his staff, still unaware they were being observed, and the horrified looks from the knights behind him. He noted with amusement which of his men were smiling—namely Kai and the visiting Parsifal and Ywain, although Dinadan was already cutting his way to the fiddle-and-drum duet in the corner and Squire Terence seemed to be making eyes at a lady across the company. He chuckled lightly and squeezed his wife's hand. "Guin," he whispered into her ear.

She jumped and looked at him, sharing the shocked looks of most of his courtiers. "A-Arthur?" she asked.

He grinned wolfishly at her, gently tugging her onto the make-shift dance floor. "Relax. Melt into the crowd. Dance with me, Love."

She blinked. "All…all right?" The Royal couple allowed the revelers to sweep them into their midst, losing themselves among the so-called rabble. A fife joined the rag-tag musician—funny, Arthur did not know Dinadan could play the pipe, and so well; he must have been taking lessons from someone. Kai laughed as Connoire bullied him into joining. Soon the whole "Round Table within the Round table," with the odd exception of Sir Gawain, was spinning and twirling with the servants of Camelot. Several fancier ladies fainted, and the tournament knights quickly took their leave.

Arthur didn't notice, because Guinevere was laughing. For once, his beloved wife was laughing at him and herself, completely relaxed, resting her head against her own shoulder, and his, in tight places, obviously without a care in the world. As the music built to a rousing climax, the King of England thought he could never be happier.

The first place Arthur went after recovering from his mysterious, energy-sapping illness was Gawain's chambers to ask if a certain knight-and-squire pair had been dabbling in his dreams. The second place was Kai's chambers, to tell his brother he was well again and please do not antagonize the physicians to the point of being banished from the premises and respond by sending Bedivere around to nose, the next time he happened to be injured. The third place was back to his own rooms—his young wife must have been worried.

He was right. He entered the room and could not hold back a small grunt of discomfort when Guinevere flew at him and landed on his chest, but it did feel nice to have the woman he loved running to his arms. "Oh, Arthur, Arthur," she sobbed into his shirt, trembling. "I thought…I was so afraid…I didn't...Oh, Arthur…"

"Hush, lovely one," he muttered into her hair, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm here. I'm fine. It's all right."

"Arthur, Arthur," was all she could say. The king sighed and held her tighter, moving in steady circles across the floor.

"See? Nothing's going to happen to me, not for a long time. I'm up and walking, aren't I? I'm alive and fine." Slowly they turned around the room, a gentle slow-dance to the music of her fearful sobs and his gentle heartbeat.

Arthur would think bitterly back to that day years later and wonder whether it had been losing him she feared or being left alone to rule a country. Kai and Gawain had been right—Guinevere was no queen, and it was a hard thing to marry a king.

The musicians struck up a lively tune and Arthur sighed into his cup. He ached, somewhere in the center of his chest, and the cause of the ache was sitting right next to him. A certain queen was tapping her finger absently on the table to the beat of the music, but she was giving no sign to her husband that she wanted to dance. She was unable to do anything, it seemed, than stare at the certain winner of the afternoon's tournament. Arthur's hand shook a little. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to take Guinevere into his arms and kiss her in front of the whole assembly, or just strangle Sir Lancelot with his own hands for tempting his wife in such a way. He toyed with the idea of doing both at once.

The French knight was now approaching the table. "Heaven preserve me," Arthur whispered to himself, catching the hungry look in Guinevere's eye as Lancelot stepped closer.

"Sire," Lancelot said, bowing low first to Arthur, then to Guinevere. "Milady. I with to ask your forgiveness, Sire, for being so forward about your wife's token yesterday. It was a grievous error."

"Nonsense, Sir Knight," Arthur said, waving his hand as if the wave the apology away. The words caught in his throat. Could he choke on a lie, he wondered? "No harm done. I'm sure the queen is honored that you won the tournament for her."

"Oh, quite honored," she answered after a long pause. "Isn't the music lovely? Just perfect for dancing."

Arthur froze. He felt like he'd walked straight into a trap. If he refused to dance with his wife, it would seem that he was angry with her for the events of the last few days, making the court restless and nervous. If he did dance with her and dismissed himself so suddenly from Lancelot's presence, there was sure to be discontent among the new French knights. He supposed he could find a young lady for Lancelot's partner…but there was a look in Guinevere's eyes he had never been able to refuse. And if she danced with him, all corners of Camelot would be at peace.

All but his.

"Actually, I'm rather tired, Love," Arthur finally answered, the words low and slow with the effort of maintaining a straight face. "I think I'll just enjoy the party from here. Why don't you dance with Lancelot for a while?"

"Thank you, Arthur!" she said, and bounded over to the French knight as if she couldn't be rid of her husband fast enough. The king watched as the couple twirled around the room, ever aware of the joyous expression on her face.

It was at that moment he knew exactly what a broken heart felt like.