“How do you figure?”
“Lancelot could have easily eliminated him entirely from the tournament today during the sword match. He could have maimed or injured Wolfe, or even killed him, to remove him from the contestants. Wolfe is obviously one of the strongest challengers. If Guinevere wanted her men to win, that would have been the most expedient thing to do.”
Rui drew in a sharp breath.
She had not seen the match. She must have been in the middle of her own fight against Gawain.
“Was he hurt?”
“Only a scratch,” Ere said carelessly. “He’s a big boy. He’ll recover.”
More thoughtfully he added, “Lancelot held back. Which makes me wonder why. It doesn’t make sense.”
He looked into Rui’s eyes meaningfully.
“Unless Wolfe is working with the queen as well, henchman or not.”
“No, he isn’t,” Rui said stubbornly, though she couldn’t possibly know.
Her instincts shouted loud and clear that Wolfe was not on the side of the unnatural queen. But Ere’s logic was difficult to argue.
Ere sighed again, clearly exasperated with her, or at least feeling weary because of her.
“You must guard yourself against him, Rui. In the tournament and outside of it.”
She looked away and stood.
“I’m taking a walk.”
“It would be better if Sorin went with you. There are enemies—”
“I need to be alone,” she insisted.
“Truly alone?” Ere asked beneath his breath.
Out loud, he said rather resignedly, “Take care.”
She gave one brief nod of acknowledgement, strapped her sword on her back and strode into the night.
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
Wolfe’s feet took him to the lake without his head giving them permission.
After the evening’s events, he needed time alone to think. As a mostly solitary man, he itched to escape the boisterousness of the festivities back at camp, celebrating the end of the first day of competition.
But even as he walked away from the revelry and crowds, a part of him yearned to walk toward someone else. Though he wanted seclusion and quiet, he did not truly want to be alone.
Guinevere was likely fuming at his direct dismissal of her summons, delivered in a perfumed letter that Tristan read to him. The boy had pounded his back in good-natured masculine ribbing when he left their tent, supposing that he was making his way to a lady love to spend the night.
Wolfe occasionally did so when they traveled, and so did Tristan. The young warrior attracted many more female admirers than Wolfe, given his golden good looks and amicable personality.
Though Wolfe would never lie with a viper like Guinevere, he’d likely seek out feminine comfort on a night like this, his body still pumped full of hot, lusty blood from battle. He needed release.
But that was before he met Rui.
Now, as he walked toward the lake, hoping that she would be there and hoping she was not, he wanted her company more than a night in the arms of the most skillful seductress. Even though time with Rui would likely leave his body even tighter and more ready to explode than before. He already knew that no amount of hand jobs would relieve the pressure inside.
But, unbelievably, he preferred that torture to the lack of her.