Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

ARTHUR

The night air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine and honeysuckle. Towering trees with luminescent leaves in shades of purple, blue, and silver stretched up into the starry sky, their branches hung with glowing lanterns that cast a soft, otherworldly light over the Seelie Court.

Everywhere I looked, fae of all kinds were indulging in the pleasures of the Night of the Ancients. Lithe dancers with iridescent wings fluttered and spun gracefully through the air, their gossamer gowns shimmering in the firelight.

Musicians played hauntingly beautiful melodies on instruments I had never seen before. Harps with strings that seemed to be made of spun moonlight, flutes carved from shimmering crystal, and drums that pulsed with a deep, primal rhythm.

Merlin's hand rested possessively on the small of my back as he guided me through the throng of revelers. Around us, the knights formed a loose circle, their eyes constantly scanning the crowd, but I noticed they seemed more at ease than ever. It occurred to me that this really was their home. The place they felt most safe. Full of familiar faces of people they’d known for centuries.

As we moved deeper into the heart of the festivities, the pulsing energy of the crowd enveloped us. Towering bonfires dotted the sprawling clearing, their flames flickering in mesmerizing shades of blue, green, and violet. Sparks drifted upward like glowing fireflies, mingling with the twilight stars above.

Merlin snagged two goblets from a passing servant, handing one to me. The wine was a deep, rich crimson, and as I took a sip, flavors of ripe berries, dark chocolate, and something distinctly magical burst across my tongue. It sent a pleasant warmth spreading through my veins, making my skin tingle.

We settled onto an arrangement of cushions beneath a towering willow tree, its cascading branches adorned with softly glowing crystal orbs. The air here was cooler, heavy with the scent of damp earth and night-blooming flowers. Galahad and Lancelot balanced two large trays of cheeses, fruits, and candies in their hands, settling them in the center of our little group.

A group of dancers twirled past us, their bodies painted with intricate swirling patterns that seemed to shift on their skin. Their wings fluttered and gleamed, and it got me thinking.

“Do any of you have wings?” I asked, my eyes meeting Tristan’s.

Tristan's nod was easy, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes shining brighter than I've ever seen. "All the Sidhe fae have the power to manifest wings. It's a natural aspect of our magic. Some lower fae who have the blood of other creatures can also have wings, horns, claws, or tails; it all depends on which kind of creature their ancestors mated with."

I leaned forward, intrigued. "Even me? I'm only half fae." The other half, I had no realistic idea. Was I a druid? Or was I human?

Tristan nodded, popping a ripe berry into his mouth. "Even you. Your magic is still young and untrained, but it's there, waiting to be awakened when you’re ready."

The thought sent a thrill through me. I glanced up at the sky, imagining what it would feel like to soar through the clouds.

Lancelot must have seen the longing in my eyes, because he chuckled, his golden hair falling into his eyes as he shook his head. "Don't get any ideas. Flying takes years of practice to master. We wouldn't want you plummeting to the ground on your first attempt. Trust me, we’ve all been there."

I huffed, taking a sip of my wine. The rich liquid warmed me from the inside out. "True, but I'm a quick study. I want to see your wings."

The wine was getting to my head already, and I felt lighter than I had since before the quest began, and I wanted to stay on this high.

Lancelot's cheeks reddened, but he pushed himself to his feet. His tanned skin gleamed with runes, and I took a moment to appreciate the rugged ripple of his warrior’s muscles. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes, and the air around him began to shimmer and pulse with an otherworldly energy.

Then, with a sudden burst of power that sent a gust of wind swirling around us, Lancelot's wings unfurled from his back, stretching out to their full, magnificent span. They were unlike anything I had ever seen.

Each wing section looked like it was made of glass. They gleamed, run through with fissures of burnished gold, catching the flickering light of the bonfires. I stood, passing my cup to Merlin, trying to get a better look at them. I reached out to touch one, and Lancelot sucked in a sharp breath as I made contact.

Though it looked like glass, it felt like steel. Heavy, sharp, and thick. They were shaped roughly like insect wings, and their wingspan was double that of Lancelot’s height. I suppose that made sense, since they were supposed to have the power to lift his heavy body into the air.

Still, it was hard to fathom how these massive glass-like appendages just…existed somewhere inside of him. My back prickled with the thought, and suddenly I wondered if a similar pair were lurking under my skin.

What caught my eye next were the sharp, wicked-looking hooks crowning the top of each wing near the spine, curved and deadly. They gleamed like polished gold, and sharp enough to pierce flesh easily.

Percival rose next, shadows dancing at his feet as he stepped forward. With a roll of his broad shoulders, his wings unfurled like a cloak of midnight. They were as dark as a starless sky, made of undulating smoky wisps in the shape of wings. I reached a hand out and sifted my fingers through the wisps, and Percy rolled his shoulders at the contact, his jaw tensing, but his eyes were full of desire.

"Show off," Gawain muttered, but there was a hint of admiration in his voice. He stood, his lean but muscular frame tensing as he called forth his own wings. They burst forth in a flurry of icy crystals, each one catching the light like a prism. The wings were a stunning glacial blue, shot through with veins of pure white. The edges looked sharp enough to cut through diamond.

Galahad grinned as he stepped up. "My turn, lads." His wings unfurled in a rustle of autumn colored feathers, a rich tapestry of golds, oranges, and deep reds. They were the wings of a griffin, or a massive hawk, and they looked powerful.

Tristan was the last to rise, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight. When his wings came out, my jaw dropped in awe. They were dragon wings… or something like it, but the color of moonstones. The tips of his wings were adorned with delicate silver filigree, in intricate patterns. They were massive and terrifying, but beautiful.

"Always have to make an entrance, don't you?" Gawain teased, his icy wings fluttering behind him. "It’s not how pretty the wings are, it’s how you use ‘em."

Tristan smirked. "You're only jealous because those icy monstrosities of yours could put someone's eye out."

Gawain clutched his chest in mock offense, his other hand reaching back to stroke the razor-sharp edges of his wings. "I'll have you know these 'monstrosities' are a work of art. Deadly and beautiful, just like their owner."

A chorus of groans sounded out from the rest of the men as they tucked away their wings and plopped back down on the cushions. I winked at Gawain and said, “I’m sure they’re very deadly.”

He grinned back, tucking them away with flourish, puffing out his broad chest. “See? The lady agrees.”

“What I’d like to know,” I asked, narrowing my eyes around the circle of knights, “Is why none of you thought to use your wings when we were standing at the foot of Dead Man’s Path.”

“We’re here to protect you and guide you through each challenge. But ultimately, it’s you who has to face them alone,” Tristan said.

I frowned. “But why not just fly me across? That’d be faster and safer. We could have avoided the stone guardians altogether.”

Galahad shook his head. “It’s not about speed. Each challenge is crafted to test something different about you—your bravery, your cleverness, your kindness. They’re meant to test you, and make sure that you’re worthy of the Holy Grail.”

“Think of it as a rite of passage,” Lancelot chimed in. “It’s not easy, but if you can beat the trials and win the Grail, then Uther has no reason to deny you your crown. If you cheat, then you don’t deserve it. You’d be no better than Mordred.”

I sighed and leaned back against the soft cushions. The wine had me feeling warm and relaxed, and the distant music wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. I waved the men off and plucked a grape from Merlin’s hand. “I regret asking. Please just smother me in lies and flowery promises, not logic…”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I think you’ve had enough wine for now, Wart.”

Galahad cocked his head, his eyes bouncing between us. “Why do you call her Wart?”

Merlin smirked. "It's a nickname from when we were kids at the orphanage," he explained, his blue eyes twinkling with nostalgia. "Arthur has this little dark freckle under her eye, see?” He ran a thumb gently under my eye. “I used to tease her mercilessly about it."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands as the memory flooded back. "Ugh, don't remind me. You were such a brat. Actually, you still are a brat."

Merlin grinned wider, reaching over to tug my hands away from my face. His fingers lingered on the freckle in question, tracing it gently. "The other kids used to tell her she was kissed by the faeries."

Gawain snorted, arching a dark brow. “I’d say she’d been kissed by a few faeries…” Again, Tristan smacked him across the back of the head.

“Can I ask the lady for a dance?” came an unfamiliar voice, causing all the knights to go utterly still and silent.

A tall, striking fae man with hair the color of burnished bronze and eyes like molten amber stood before us, his hand outstretched towards me in invitation. His chiseled features were accentuated by the intricate bronze runes that swirled across his sun-kissed skin, catching the flickering firelight. He wore loose linen trousers slung low on his hips and a sheer, open vest that did little to conceal his sculpted chest and abdomen.

He was handsome, objectively, but he didn’t cause my belly to flutter like it did with my knights and my sorcerer.

I felt the knights tense around me, their postures shifting from relaxed to alert in an instant. Merlin's hand tightened on my waist, his fingers digging in possessively. Percy's shadows swirled around us, agitated and ready to strike. Lancelot and Gawain exchanged a look, their jaws clenched and eyes hard. Galahad's hand drifted to the hilt of a dagger he wore, his knuckles white. Tristan's gaze was assessing, calculating, as if trying to determine the level of threat this newcomer posed.

The fae man seemed unfazed by the sudden tension, his amber eyes locked on mine as he waited patiently for my response. I knew it would be considered a grave insult to refuse his request, especially as a guest in the Seelie Court. The last thing I wanted was to cause offense or create a diplomatic incident over a simple dance.

I placed my hand on Merlin's thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze as I rose gracefully to my feet. “One dance is all I can promise before my mates decide to intervene.”

Behind me, several of my men sucked in sharp breaths at my use of the term mates. It had slipped out by accident, but I wasn’t going to bother taking it back. I could feel the knights' gazes burning into my back as I accepted the fae man's outstretched hand, allowing him to guide me towards the swirling throng of dancers.

As we stepped into the crowd of dancing fae, the music shifted, the haunting melody growing more sensual, more primal. The drums pulsed with a deep, throbbing rhythm that seemed to echo the beating of my heart. Fae all around us moved with an otherworldly grace, their bodies undulating and entwining in a dance that was both beautiful and erotic.

My partner pulled me close, one hand resting on the small of my back while we began to move, our bodies swaying in perfect sync to the hypnotic beat. The music was so much more wild than anything that existed in Albion. So free, fast, and raw.

"I'm Keir," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. His breath was warm, smelling faintly of cinnamon. It took everything in me not to flinch away from him, and to stay as friendly as I could manage. "And you, of course, are Arthur Pendragon, daughter of Morrigan. Your presence here has caused quite the stir."

I tilted my head back to meet his gaze, a small smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. "Is that so? And what have you heard, exactly?"

Keir spun me out then back in, dipping me low before pulling me flush against his body. His hand splayed across my lower back, fingers grazing the bare skin exposed by my backless dress. "Some say you're the key to everything."

I laughed, the sound musical and carefree even as my mind raced. I didn't like the way he said "key", as if I was an object to be wielded rather than a person with agency. "And what do you believe, Keir?" I asked, arching a brow as we moved together, our hips rolling in tandem.

Over his shoulder, I locked eyes with Lancelot. He and the rest of my men stood shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed over their chests as they watched us dance. His eyes were narrowed on Keir’s hand.

"I believe," he murmured, his hand sliding lower to rest just above the curve of my ass, "that you are a woman of immense power and potential. And that many will seek to harness that power for their own gain."

I tensed, my eyes narrowing. "I am no one's pawn," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "And I don't take kindly to those who would seek to use me."

Keir's lips curved into a smile. "Of course not.” His smile was sharp and cunning, his amber eyes glinting with a hint of malice. "I would never dream of using you, Arthur Pendragon. I merely wish to...appreciate you."

His hand slid lower, cupping the curve of my ass in a bold, possessive gesture. I stiffened, anger and disgust flaring hot in my veins. Keir leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. But before they could make contact, something deep within me snapped. It was like a dam bursting.

A surge of raw, primal magic exploded from my core, a searing golden light that enveloped me like a second skin. It crackled and danced across my flesh, ancient runes flaring to life in a dazzling display of power. The very air around us seemed to shimmer and pulse with the force of it, the ground trembling beneath our feet.

Keir's eyes widened in shock and fear as he stumbled back, his hands raised in a futile attempt to shield himself from the onslaught of my magic. But it was too late. A bolt of pure, molten energy shot from my outstretched palm, striking him square in the chest with the force of a battering ram.

He flew backwards, his body hurtling through the air like a rag doll. Fae scrambled out of the way, their faces a mix of awe and terror as Keir crashed to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. He skidded across the earth, leaving a deep furrow in his wake, before coming to a stop at the base of a towering tree.

The music came to a sudden halt, the silence that followed deafening. Every eye was fixed on me as the air crackled with tension and anticipation of a fight.

Keir groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows. He looked around, taking in the shocked faces of the gathered fae, the expectant hush that had fallen over the clearing. For a moment, he seemed poised on the brink of retaliation, his eyes flashing with humiliation and fury.

Then, to my surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. The sound was rich and deep. He climbed to his feet, brushing dirt and leaves from his clothing with an air of nonchalance.

"My fault!" he called out. "I suppose I deserved that for my poor attempt at flirting. I should have known better, your highness." He sketched a bow in my direction, a rueful grin playing at his lips. "I beg your forgiveness for my uncouth behavior. It won't happen again."

Around us, the tension began to dissipate as the gathered fae realized that the confrontation had been defused. But I felt more open and exposed than ever. There were eyes on me now, studying me, realizing exactly who and what I was now that he’d announced it.

As the music and revelry hesitantly resumed around us, I stood frozen in place, my heart pounding and my skin still tingling with the aftershocks of the magic I’d unleashed. I could feel the weight of countless stares, the air thick with hushed whispers and speculative murmurs.

Keir remained where he stood, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. He smiled, slow and sharp, like a wolf baring its fangs. But before he could take a step towards me, a familiar figure interposed itself between us.

Lancelot.

"I believe the lady has made her point abundantly clear," he growled, his voice low and deeper than I’d ever heard from him before. His golden eyes flashed with barely contained fury as he stared Keir down, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Turn around and walk away now. Before I'm tempted to rip your spine out through your throat."

Keir's smile only widened, but a flash of fear passed through his eyes that he couldn’t hide. "Ah, the loyal knight to the rescue. How predictable.”

With a final, lingering look in my direction, Keir turned on his heel and melted into the swirling crowd of dancers, his bronze hair glinting under the enchanted lanterns. The sea of fae parted before him.

Lancelot remained where he stood, his broad shoulders taut with tension as he watched Keir's retreat. In that moment, he looked every inch the fierce, legendary fae warrior. A knight of the round table.

As the music swelled around us again, the dancers spinning and twirling in a dizzying array of color and motion, I reached out to place a hand on Lancelot's arm. The muscles beneath my touch were rigid, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

"Lance," I murmured, my voice soft yet firm. "He's gone. It's over."

Slowly, as if emerging from a trance, Lancelot turned to face me fully. The fury in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a swirl of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. Concern, relief, and something deeper, more intense, that made my breath catch in my throat.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice rough with barely suppressed rage. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over the freckle beneath my eye with a gentleness that caught me off guard.

I leaned into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as I savored the warmth of his skin against mine. When I opened them again, I managed a small, reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Really. Just a bit shaken."

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching mine as if looking for any sign of distress or discomfort. "You seemed to handle yourself just fine."

I glanced down at my hands, still half-expecting to see the golden glow of power emanating from my skin. But the runes had faded back to their usual shimmering state. "I don't know what came over me," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lancelot's fingers tightened on my cheek, his touch grounding me in the moment. "Your magic responded to a threat. It protected you, as it should." His voice was low and filled with a quiet awe. "You're getting stronger. Embracing your power now that you’re in Avalon."

Around us, the music shifted, the melody turning softer, more intimate. Couples drew closer, swaying together in a dance that was less about passion and more about connection.

On an impulse, I reached up and took Lancelot's hand in mine, lacing our fingers together. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away. "Dance with me," I said, less a request and more a gentle command.

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze darting around the crowded courtyard as if searching for a reason to refuse. Then, to my shock, he nodded. "As my queen commands," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Hand in hand, we stepped into the swirling throng of dancers. Lancelot's arm slid around my waist, drawing me close until our bodies were flush, moving as one to the hypnotic rhythm. The heat of him seeped into my skin, chasing away the lingering chill of my encounter with Keir.

As we danced, the world around us seemed to fade away until there was nothing but the music, the warmth of Lancelot's body against mine, and the steady thrum of magic in the air. The melody was haunting and ethereal, and even a bit sensual.

My breath caught in my throat as his hand slid from my waist to the small of my back, his fingers splaying wide across the bare skin exposed by the backless dress. His touch burned like a brand, igniting a fire in my veins that had nothing to do with the magic coursing through me.

"You frustrate me," he murmured, his breath whispering against the shell of my ear.

I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. "And why is that, Sir Lancelot? Do tell."

He was so fucking handsome it almost hurt to look at him. "Because you make me feel things I thought I'd buried. Things I swore I'd never allow myself to feel again."

We turned in a slow circle, our bodies moving in perfect sync to the sensual swell of the music. The air between us crackled with tension.

"And what things might those be?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lancelot's hand tightened on my waist, his fingers digging into my skin through the thin fabric of my dress. "Desire," he growled, his voice rough with barely restrained need. "Longing. A hunger that fucking consumes me."

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. The raw honesty in his words, the vulnerability beneath the fierce exterior, made my heart ache.

"I don't believe in love," he continued, his gaze never leaving mine as we swayed together, our bodies brushing with each movement, sparking energy across my skin. “It terrifies me."

The confession hung between us, raw and honest, stripped bare of all pretense. I felt the rapid thrum of his heartbeat where our chests pressed together, and saw the war raging behind his eyes. Fear grappling with longing, the desperate need to maintain control.

"Why does it terrify you?" I asked softly, my fingers toying with the silken strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Lancelot exhaled shakily, his breath warm against my cheek. "Because I don't know if I'm strong enough to survive losing myself in you. Losing myself to this...this madness. Because that’s what it feels like, Arthur. When I saw Keir’s hands on you, it took every ounce of my willpower not to crush him into fucking dust. Just watching the way he smiled at you made me sick. I’ve never felt so possessive over a female in my life."

Gently, I cupped his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over the high planes of his cheekbones. His skin was warm and smooth, as if he’d shaved the stubble earlier in the night. "Lancelot," I murmured, my voice soft. “Give yourself time. I’m not asking for you to love me. Not yet. Not if you’re not ready for that step. But I would like to explore this…thing between us."

His grip tightened, his strong arms enveloping me as he drew me impossibly closer. Our bodies molded together, fitting perfectly. Around us, the dance floor had transformed into a sea of swirling silks and shimmering wings. Laughter and music mingled with the heady scent of sex and magic.

But at that moment, the rest of the world fell away. There was only Lancelot, his golden eyes burning into mine with an intensity so raw that it stole my breath. Slowly, reverently, he raised a hand to brush a stray curl from my cheek, his calloused fingers lingering against my skin.

"Arthur," he whispered, my name falling from his lips like a prayer. "I’m going to kiss you now.”

The kiss was rough, demanding, a clashing of teeth and tongues that sent sparks of desire racing down my spine. Lancelot's hands gripped my waist, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me flush against the hard planes of his body.

A broken moan escaped me as his tongue delved into my mouth, tasting, exploring, devouring. Everything faded away until there was nothing but the heat of his touch, the drugging slide of his lips against mine, the intoxicating scent of his skin.

One of his hands slid up my back to tangle in my hair, his fingers twisting in the curls as he angled my head to deepen the kiss. I clung to him, my nails raking down the powerful expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath my touch.

Suddenly, with a great whoosh of air, Lancelot's wings unfurled from his back, stretching out to their full, magnificent span. The golden hooks at the top glinted menacingly in the lantern light.

Lancelot's wings beat powerfully, stirring up a gust of wind that sent my hair whipping around my face. He broke the kiss, his eyes glowing. "Hold on tight."

I barely had time to wrap my arms around his neck before he launched us into the air with a mighty thrust of his wings. I gasped, my stomach swooping as we soared higher and higher, the ground falling away beneath us.

We hovered for a moment, suspended high above the Seelie Court. From this vantage point, the revelry below looked like a scene from a faerietale. The towering trees with their luminescent leaves stretched out in every direction, their branches adorned with glowing lanterns that winked and shimmered like captured stars.

Bonfires dotted the landscape for miles and miles, their flames flickering in mesmerizing shades of blue, green, and violet. Sparks drifted lazily upwards, mingling with the fireflies that danced through the balmy twilight air. The drumbeat pulsed through the earth like a heartbeat, the haunting melodies of the faerie musicians intertwining with peals of laughter and moans of pleasure.

I couldn't help the breathless laugh that bubbled up from my chest as I clung to Lancelot, my body pressed tightly against his.

With a powerful beat of his wings, he propelled us through the sky. The wind rushed past my ears as we soared over the forest below. I tightened my grip around his neck, marveling at the strength and grace with which he navigated the air currents.

The landscape shifted and changed beneath us. The towering trees gave way to rolling hills blanketed in a carpet of wildflowers that shimmered lavender. Sparkling streams cut through the lush valleys.

I happened to glance over his shoulder, and my eyes widened as I spotted several familiar figures following closely behind us, their wings propelling them through the sky like massive birds.

Lancelot chuckled, feeling my body stiffen, hearing my sharp intake of breath. “You didn’t think they’d let you out of their sight, did you?” I couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of me. I should have expected the others to follow.

In the distance, I spotted a lone structure rising from the crest of a hill, its weathered stone walls covered in a latticework of ivy and flowering vines. As we drew closer, I realized it was an ancient watchtower, its once-proud turrets now crumbling with age and neglect.

Lancelot angled his wings, bringing us in for a gentle landing atop the tower's flat roof. As my feet touched the moss-covered stone, I exhaled a heavy breath. The world felt different up here, secluded and private.

"What is this place?" I asked, spinning in a circle, my dress fluttering around me.

Lancelot's wings folded gracefully behind him before vanishing just as the others were landing beside us, their bare feet silent.

Lancelot's eyes took on a distant, almost wistful quality as he gazed out over the hills. "This was once a watchtower, used during the old wars. Whenever the enemy was near, the sentinels would light a signal fire, alerting the camps to raise their defenses."

He ran his hand along the weathered stone parapet, his fingers tracing the ancient grooves and cracks. "It's been centuries since it was last in use. There’s been a tentative truce between the two courts ever since Excalibur was taken to Albion."

I stepped closer to him, my hand coming to rest beside his on the cool stone. The tower may have been old and crumbling, but there was a certain wild beauty to it, a sense of timelessness.

"Let's go inside," I said, my voice soft in the stillness of the night. "I want to see what's become of it after all these years."

He nodded, as he led the way towards a narrow archway near the far edge of the tower, with a dark staircase that led down into the structure. The others followed close behind, their presence a comforting warmth at my back.

As we descended the narrow, winding staircase, the air grew thick with the heady scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. The weathered stone steps were slick with moss, drooping with the indentations of thousands of feet that had stomped up and down over the years.

At the bottom of the stairs, we emerged into a large, circular room that had once served as the tower's main hall. But now, nature had reclaimed the space, transforming it into a wild, enchanted grotto.

Alush tapestry of ivy and flowering vines almost entirely obscured the crumbling stone walls. Delicate blossoms in shades of white, lavender, and pale blue peeked out from between the glossy green leaves, their petals shimmering with droplets of evening dew.

The floor was a plush carpet of emerald moss, soft and springy beneath my bare feet. Tiny wildflowers in vibrant hues of yellow, pink, and violet dotted the velvety expanse, their faces turned up towards the gentle light that filtered in through the cracks in the domed ceiling.

In the center of the room, where I imagine a great strategy table would have once stood, now grew a small, but beautiful tree, still in its fledgeling stages. The others moved to join us, their steps nearly silent on the plush carpet of moss. Galahad carried a bottle of faerie wine, the dark liquid sloshing gently in the cut-crystal decanter.

Galahad grinned as he uncorked the bottle with a flourish. "A vintage from Queen Titania's private reserve." He took a deep swig before passing the bottle to Percival, who followed suit with a satisfied groan.

"Stealing from the queen, Gal? How delightfully wicked of you." Percy’s dark eyes were glossed over with drink, and for once, a lazy smile played on his lips. It was the most at ease I’d ever seen the dark fae.

I accepted the bottle from Percy, the crystal cool and smooth against my palm. I took a long pull, savoring the rich, complex flavors that burst across my tongue—ripe summer berries and a hint of something smoky.

Tristan conjured several softly glowing orbs of silver light that hovered in the air around us, casting the grotto in an ethereal shimmer. The play of light and shadow across the stone walls was mesmerizing, the vines seeming to dance and sway.

As I passed the bottle to Tristan, a sudden burst of shimmering golden light filled the grotto, causing the delicate blossoms to tremble and the hovering orbs to flicker. Merlin stepped out of the swirling golden mists. He caught the flying bottle of corked wine that Tristan tossed, and with a roguish grin, he sauntered towards us, his movements fluid and graceful as a panther.

"Starting the party without me?" Merlin quipped, his voice a low, seductive purr. "I'm wounded, Wart."

I glanced between Merlin and Tristan, narrowing my eyes at the seer. “You saw him coming, didn’t you?”

Tristan smiled lazily and shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Merlin took a deep pull from the bottle before passing it on, his eyes scanning my body, catching on the bare thigh peeking out from the obscene slit in my dress. "Can you blame me for not wanting to miss out on all the fun?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop the grin that tugged at my lips. "And what makes you think there’s any fun to be had?"

Merlin's smile turned wicked, his gaze hot and heavy as it raked over me. "Oh, I don't know. A beautiful, powerful woman...six deadly, devastatingly handsome males who worship at her feet...hidden away in a grotto where no one will find us. I'd say the possibilities are endless, wouldn't you?"

“Worship, hm?” I tilted my head to the side. "Careful, Merlin. That sounds dangerously close to a promise and a challenge."

Gawain leaned back on his elbows as he fixed me with a heated gaze. "I think we all know who could make our queen scream the loudest."

"Is that so, Gawain? Because I seem to recall having Arthur writhing beneath me not too long ago, begging for more," Percy said smugly.

My cheeks flushed hot at the memory, a thrill of desire zinging down my spine. The wine had lowered my inhibitions, and the simmering tension between the six males was like an aphrodisiac, making my blood sing with need.

Galahad leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, but making a woman scream is about more than just brute strength and stamina. It takes finesse, skill...the ability to play her body like an instrument until she's singing your name to the heavens."

Tristan hummed thoughtfully, his gaze distant, as if seeing something beyond the here and now. He leaned against the stone wall, idly twirling an icy lock of hair around his finger. "I could have her shattering with pleasure without even laying a hand on her. The mind is the most powerful erogenous zone, after all."

Lancelot scoffed. "Pretty words and parlor tricks are all well and good, but when it comes down to it, a woman wants to be thoroughly, utterly claimed. Possessed. Taken to the very limits of her endurance until she's hoarse from screaming."

My eyes bounced rapidly between each man in the room. I was suddenly very aware of every part of my body, and the amount of skin that was exposed to their wandering eyes. A fluttering heat built up inside of me.

"You're all talk," Merlin said, his voice a low, sensual purr. "But let's see who can actually back it up. I propose a little wager."

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening as six pairs of heated eyes turned to me, glittering with challenge and anticipation. The air was thick with the heady scent of arousal and magic; the tension crackling like a living thing.

Merlin stood, his movements fluid and predatory. He circled me slowly, his fingers trailing lightly over my bare shoulders, down the exposed line of my spine. I shivered, goosebumps erupting in the wake of his touch.

"The rules are simple," he murmured. "We each get a turn to pleasure our queen, using whatever methods we deem fit. And Arthur decides who made her come the hardest, the most intensely...who wrung the most exquisite ecstasy from her beautiful body."

My body went weak, a gush of wetness flooding my core. I could barely think straight through the haze. The prospect of being the center of attention, the object of desire for these six incredible males, made my head spin.

Galahad groaned, his fists curling tightly. "I'm in. This is going to be fun."

"Agreed," Percival rumbled, shadows dancing across his bare chest. “I’ve been craving another taste for days.”

Lancelot stood, rolling his powerful shoulders. "I feel sorry for you poor saps. None of you stand a fucking chance."

Tristan's silver gaze met mine, ancient and knowing. "There's no shame in backing out, Arthur. This is for your pleasure, after all."

I wet my lips, pulse hammering in my throat. My skin felt too tight, feverish with anticipation. "I would be an idiot to put a stop to this."

Gawain flashed me a roguish wink. "I do love a woman who knows what she wants."

Merlin stepped forward, his eyes glowing an ethereal blue. With a wave of his hand, a large, plush bed appeared in the center of the grotto. It was draped in silks of burgundy and gold, piled high with downy pillows. It was the largest bed I’ve ever seen, large enough to fit ten people or more.

I stood on shaky legs, my heart thundering in my chest as I made my way towards the enormous bed. The plush carpet of emerald moss was soft and springy beneath my bare feet, tiny wildflowers brushing against my ankles with each step.

As I reached the edge of the bed, I turned to face my knights and my sorcerer. They stood in a loose semicircle, their eyes hot and heavy on my body, tracking my every movement with predatory intensity. The air was alive with anticipation, crackling with the primal energy that flowed between us.

I reached for the delicate straps of my dress, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest. Slowly, teasingly, I slid them down my shoulders, baring inch after tantalizing inch of naked skin. The fabric whispered over my curves, catching briefly on my hardened nipples before fluttering to the ground in a pool of liquid gold at my feet.

A chorus of ragged curses and sharp inhales echoed through the grotto as I stood before them, clad only in the shimmering runes painted across my skin. Their eyes flashed with raw, primal hunger, the power thrumming through their veins making the air hum and crackle with barely restrained energy.

I felt utterly exposed, my every imperfection laid bare to their intense scrutiny. But there was something thrilling about it too, something empowering in the way their gazes devoured me, hot and reverent. The bulges straining against their trousers, evidence of their fierce arousal, were impossible to miss, and it made my core clench with answering need.

Tristan stepped forward first, his eyes glowing and wild. He moved with a fluid grace, his lithe muscles rippling beneath his midnight skin as he stalked towards me.

"Lie back," he purred. “Let me worship you with my mind, before the others have their turn."

I complied, sinking back onto the plush silken bedding. The fabric was cool and smooth against my heated skin. Tristan crawled over me, his gaze locked with mine as he raised a hand to hover just above my skin. He didn't touch me, but I noticed the whisper of his power, the thrum of magic that danced between us.

He was so much larger than I realized. There was something beautiful about Tristan. His features were delicate and handsome, but his body was corded with lithe muscle.

"Close your eyes," he said softly.

I let my eyes drift shut, my breath coming in shallow pants as I waited for Tristan's touch. But it never came. Instead, I gasped as a wave of pure, concentrated pleasure crashed over me, igniting every nerve ending in my body. It was like liquid ecstasy pouring through my veins, setting me alight from the inside out.

Images filled my mind, vivid and all-consuming. Tristan's hands roaming over my body, mapping every curve and hollow with worshipful reverence. His mouth was hot and urgent against my skin, trailing scorching kisses down the column of my throat, the valley between my breasts. His tongue swirling around my aching nipples, teasing the sensitive buds until I was arching off the bed, a broken moan spilling from my lips.

Lower and lower he went, his phantom touch setting me on fire. When his mouth finally reached the apex of my thighs, I cried out, my hips bucking off the bed as he laved my aching pussy with long, slow strokes of his tongue. He delved deep, thrusting into my dripping heat. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in my belly, my thighs quaking, toes curling into the silken sheets.

Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, Tristan sucked my clit into his mouth. The real Tristan. Flesh and blood fae male. Not the version of him trapped inside my mind. My eyes flew open as he rose to his knees, his lips wet and glistening.

I was panting as he freed his cock from his pants, and a small moan escaped my lips as I noticed that there were shimmering silver runes on the long, thick shaft too.

He gripped the base, stroking slowly as he held my gaze, his silver eyes molten with desire. "I'm going to fuck you now, my queen," he said, his voice low and rough with need.

I could only whimper in response, my body trembling as he positioned himself at my entrance. The thick head of his cock nudged against my wetness, teasing, tormenting. I was so wet for him already, aching to be filled.

With a powerful thrust of his hips, Tristan buried himself to the hilt inside me. I cried out, my back arching off the bed as he stretched and filled me so exquisitely. He was big, the silver runes adding a delicious texture as he withdrew almost completely before slamming back in. The magic running through the swirls tingled against my clit.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Tristan groaned, his fingers digging into my hips as he set a hard, deep rhythm. "I’ve imagined you under me a thousand times…"

The others circled the bed like predators stalking their prey, their eyes glowing with primal hunger as they watched Tristan take me.

I dug my nails into his biceps, loving the feel of his muscles tightening under my grip, my heels locking around his waist as I urged him on. "Harder," I gasped out, my voice ragged. "Fuck me harder, Tristan."

He growled low in his throat, a sound of pure male satisfaction. Shifting his grip, he hooked my knees over his elbows, spreading me wider, opening me fully. The new angle allowed him to penetrate even deeper.

Around us, the others watched with rapt intensity, their chests heaving, eyes glowing with barely leashed hunger. Gawain stroked himself through his trousers; all traces of jokes and teasing aside. He was wild now.

Galahad had a white-knuckled grip on the bedpost, as if physically restraining himself from joining in. Lancelot's molten gaze seared into me, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Percival was a looming shadow, still and silent, but I noticed the dark shadows writhing all around us.

Merlin watched from the corner of the bed, his blue eyes drinking in the sight of Tristan’s cock slamming into me. To my relief, there wasn’t an ounce of rage in his eyes, only feral need.

"That's it," Tristan rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Come on my cock, my queen. Let me feel you."

His fingers dipped between our sweat-slicked bodies to find my clit, rubbing tight, focused circles around my swollen nub. I keened, my inner walls starting to flutter and clench around cock.

"Tristan!" I cried out, my nails scoring down his back as the coil in my belly wound too tight. "I'm-I'm going to?—"

"Yes," he hissed, his eyes wild and feverish with need. "Now!"

His command was my undoing. With a high, sharp cry, I shattered, my orgasm crashing over me in wave after wave of mind-melting bliss. A faint ringing began in my ears, my body convulsing as Tristan fucked me through the aftershocks. I was dimly aware of his broken groan, the hot splash of his release painting my belly and breasts as he pulled free.

Tristan's weight lifted off of me, leaving me feeling empty and aching for more. I was still trembling, my skin slick with sweat and tingling with residual pleasure. But I barely had a moment to catch my breath before another set of hands was on me.

Galahad gripped my hips, pulling me up onto my hands and knees with effortless strength. The silk sheets were soft against my palms as I braced myself, anticipation coiling tight in my belly.

"My turn," he growled, his voice low like the growl of a beast. "I've been dying to taste you for days. Dreaming about what you’d feel like around my cock."

A moan fell from my lips as Galahad moved to position himself behind me, his mouth tracing the length of my spine, his tongue and teeth mapping every ridge and hollow. He nipped and suckled at my sensitive skin, leaving a trail of blooming marks behind.

I felt the head of his cock nudge at my entrance, and it was all I could do to keep from slamming myself backwards onto him. I’d never felt this insatiable before, but my body was on fire, screaming for more, more, more.

“I want you to suck Lancelot while I fuck you,” Galahad gritted through clenched teeth.

I sucked in a sharp breath, looking up and locking eyes with the golden-haired knight. His eyes were dark and feral with hunger as he stepped forward, slowly pulling himself free. My eyes went wide as I took in the size of him. He was thick and smooth, the swollen head glistening with wetness. My mouth watered, needing to taste him.

Galahad gathered my thick hair into his fist and gave it a tug that had me whimpering. His cock sank into me, but not all the way. “I want you choking on him, while I take your cunt, my queen.”

I obediently opened my mouth, letting Lancelot slide his hard length between my lips. A groan rumbled in his chest as I took him deep, my tongue swirling around his shaft. Galahad's grip on my hair tightened as he started thrusting into me from behind, his thickness stretching me deliciously.

Each powerful snap of Galahad's hips drove Lance further down my throat until I was indeed choking on him, just as Galahad wanted. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes from the strain, but I loved every second of it. I was lost to pure sensation, impaled at both ends by my fae knights.

“Such a pretty little faerie,” Lancelot said as he petted my hair.

I moaned around him, and the vibrations made him shudder and curse. His fingers dug into my hair as he guided my movements, fucking my face with increasing urgency. He throbbed against my tongue and I knew he wouldn’t last long.

At the same time, Galahad's thrusts grew more erratic, his breathing ragged as his climax approached. "Fuck, I'm going to fill this sweet cunt," he panted.

I felt my peak building deep inside me, coiling tighter with each rough thrust. Lancelot pulsed heavily against my tongue as I hollowed my cheeks and sucked him greedily. With a guttural groan, he spilled himself down my throat, his hot cum flooding my mouth. I swallowed it down eagerly, loving the taste of salt and sweat on my tongue.

Galahad's fingers dug into my hips as he chased his own release, pounding into my aching core. "I’m going to fucking worship you forever…"

His words sent me careening over the edge. My inner walls clamped down on him as I came with a muffled cry, still licking Lance’s cock clean. Galahad buried himself to the hilt one final time, a harsh groan leaving his lips as he emptied himself inside me. His body was shaking against mine, trembling with absolute pleasure.

They both withdrew slowly, leaving me empty and dripping. I was a debauched mess, my hair mussed and my skin flushed. But I had never felt more powerful or desired. Gawain's gaze raked over my body, taking in the mess his brothers made of me. He glanced at Percy, and the two shared a look of pure wickedness.

"Think you can handle more?" Percy asked, his voice a low, near growl. "We can stop if you need to."

A breathless laugh burst out of me, my body still thrumming with residual pleasure. I fixed Gawain with a challenging stare as I fell back and spread my thighs, leaning on my elbows for support. “If you two don’t fuck me now, I’m going to scream.”

What was wrong with me? I’d never taken this much in a single night. Not even close. There’d been one drunken night years ago when I’d fallen into bed with two men traveling through Camelot. But this was something different. I felt…strong. For the first time since this quest started, I felt like a fae woman. My muscles were awake and buzzing, and my blood sang with need. A fire raged through me, screaming at me to claim my knights.

Slowly, teasingly, Gawain pulled his cock free from the confines of his trousers. My mouth went dry at the sight of him, long, thick, and beautifully decorated with swirling patterns of icy blue runes. The head was flushed a deep red, glistening with drops of wetness.

Gawain nodded at Percival, who strode around to my right. Galahad moved out of his way as he slid in behind me, lifting me with incredible ease, as if I weighed nothing. Gawain crawled up onto the bed, settling himself between my spread thighs.

Percival's strong arms wrapped around my torso from behind, pulling me flush against his muscular chest. I could feel the heat of his skin, the thrum of power emanating from the runes painted across his flesh. His cock, hard and insistent, pressed against the cleft of my ass as he nuzzled into the crook of my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"We’re going to take your pretty cunt together. Our brothers made sure you’re ready for us."

Percival shifted beneath me, his powerful body stretching out along the silk sheets. I settled atop him, straddling his hips as his thick length nestled against me. A broken moan fell from my lips at the delicious friction, my hips rocking instinctively to coat him in my wetness.

"That's it," he purred, his large hands gripping my waist, guiding my movements. “Such a good little faerie…”

Suddenly, tendrils of shadows surrounded us like tentacles of the night. Two of them wrapped around my thighs and ankles, holding me utterly immovable. I was completely at their mercy, and salivating for more.

Slowly, reverently, Gawain ran his hands up the backs of my thighs, over the swell of my ass, leaving trails of icy sensation in his wake. I shivered, my skin pebbling with goosebumps despite the fever raging in my blood.

Gawain gripped the base of his cock, positioning the thick head at my dripping entrance. He teased me with shallow thrusts, barely breaching me before pulling back out. I whimpered, trying to rock my hips to take him deeper, but Percival's shadows held me firmly in place.

"Please—" I panted, my voice ragged with need. I’d never sounded so desperate in my life.

Gawain's eyes flashed with primal hunger as he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful stroke. At the same time, Percival lifted my hips, and with a slow, steady pressure, he pushed inside.

I threw my head back, a guttural moan tearing from my throat as they filled me so completely. The burn of the stretch morphed into exquisite pleasure. They stilled for a moment, letting me adjust to the intense sensation of being so utterly claimed.

Gawain leaned down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss as he began to move. Long, deep strokes had my eyes flutter shut. The runes etched into his shaft created delicious friction against my inner walls as they tingled with magic. Percival matched his rhythm, his hips rolling languidly as he savored every inch.

They fucked me with a leisurely, sensual rhythm, their cocks sliding against each other inside my tight heat. Gawain's hands roamed my body, trailing icy patterns across my flushed skin as he rolled his hips, stroking deep. Percival's shadows caressed my thighs and my breasts. The dark tendrils of sensation that had me shivering and moaning.

"You take us so well," Gawain purred, his voice rough with pleasure. "Your pretty cunt is so tight, so perfect."

I could only whimper in response, my body singing with ecstasy as they moved within me. The obscene, wet sounds of their cocks pumping into my dripping core filled the grotto, mingling with our ragged breaths and bitten off groans.

Percival's teeth scraped along the column of my throat, his tongue laving the reddened skin. "Our beautiful faerie queen," he rumbled, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust that had me seeing stars. "You were made for this, made to be worshipped."

I arched into their touch, my head falling back against Percival's shoulder as Gawain leaned down to capture one of my nipples between his lips. He suckled the hardened peak, grazing it with his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue. Pleasure sparked through me, my inner walls fluttering around them.

My world narrowed down to pure sensation. Through the haze of pleasure, I looked up to see Merlin standing at the edge of the bed, his hand wrapped around his thick length as he stroked himself slowly. His blue eyes were molten with desire, the runes on his skin pulsing with an otherworldly light.

I whimpered, my body clenching around Gawain and Percival. They groaned in unison, their thrusts growing more urgent, more demanding. Gawain's fingers dug into my hips as he slammed into me.

Percival's shadows tightened their grip, holding me open, exposing me completely to their onslaught. One tendril snaked between my legs, circling my aching clit with maddening pressure. I cried out, my back arching as the coil in my belly pulled taut.

Merlin's strokes grew faster. Gawain cursed long and low, his body going rigid as my pulsing heat pushed him over the edge. I felt the hot spurts of his cum dripping down my pussy. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, muffling his groans against my sweat-dampened skin.

Percival followed soon after, a harsh, guttural sound ripping from his chest as his hips snapped forward one final time.

Sparks danced behind my eyelids, the runes on my skin flaring to life with a brilliant golden glow. The air crackled with energy, the very earth seeming to tremble beneath us as my magic swelled and surged. Merlin's low groan drew my attention, and I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he came with a broken curse.