The Curse of Camelot Page 7

  “She’s such a fraud,” Ragnell hissed. “It’s the pendant that makes her into the beauty she’s become and gives her power over our husbands. Without it, she’s stripped of her lure and the spell she has over them. When she’s not wearing the pendant, her body runs dry of the milk and honey, which sustains the knights of Camelot and she carries no more power or influence than we do.”

  “Where’s the pendant?” Fleur stood on tiptoes to try and see above Ragnell’s head.

  Ragnell turned to face her friends. “It’s lying on her dressing table. She never sleeps in it. When you think about what it does to her, she couldn’t possibly.”

  Elaine nodded. “True. There’s no way she could rest in slumber with her body primed for sex all the time. Lancelot doesn’t like to talk about it much, but he did tell me that sometimes her cunt is so full of cream that she begs the knights to drink it from her, even when their own muscles are already bulging from the strength she’s fed them.”

  Ragnell pulled a face. “It can’t be comfortable for her.”

  “I have not one scrap of sympathy from the greedy witch,” Fleur said. “This might be our only chance to rid Camelot of her and reclaim our menfolk.” She shot a glance down the corridor. “We can’t have long before Vivien’s finished with the werewolves and they transform back to beasts. If we’re going to overthrow Guinevere, we need to move now.”

  “Right, yes.” Ragnell took in a deep breath. “Let’s all run in together, and then, Elaine, you open the window while Fleur and I grab Guinevere. We’ll drag her to the window, then all three of us will use our strength to push her out of it. We’re high enough up here that the fall should kill her instantly.”

  “Oh God, oh God.” Fleur’s voice quivered, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Ragnell held her tightly by her forearms. “Calm down, Fleur. Like you said, it’s now or never. We have to pull together on this. The future of Camelot is depending on us.”

  Fleur nodded and wiped away a trail of snot that had dripped down to her upper lip. “I know, it’s just I—I’ve never killed anyone before.”

  Elaine put an arm around her friend. “And nor will you have to ever again, my sweet. Just think…when Guinevere’s gone, our lives will return to normal again. Our husbands can take us to their beds once more.”

  Ragnell looked directly into Fleur’s eyes. “Or indeed, for the first time, in your case.”

  Fleur held up her head and sniffed back her sobs. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”

  The three women put their heads together and wrapped their arms around each other.

  “This is it,” Ragnell whispered. “Let’s complete the one quest our knights have failed. It’s time to overthrow the queen.”

  Chapter Seven

  The shuffle of fabric and light rapid footsteps formed part of Guinevere’s dream at first. She ran through the castle, casting hasty glances behind her every few seconds to check whether Arthur had finally gained on her. Lancelot was in one of these chambers. If she only knew which one. She had to get to him, had to reach him before Arthur caught her first. But all the doors were heavy and firmly shut. It took her vital seconds to wrench each one open, only to search the darkness to find each room empty and completely void her of her one true love.

  “Lancelot!” she cried out. “My love, where are you?”

  “He’s tucked up in bed waiting for his wife, you witch.”

  Guinevere caught her breath and snapped open her eyes. Her nightmare gave way to reality. She screamed at what she saw. “Get away from me. Let go. Leave me alone. Let go, I order you!”

  Two of the knights’ wives pinned her down on the bed. Their long nails dug into the skin on her bare arms, and she thrashed with her legs, trying to kick them away, but they ducked just in time to spare themselves.

  Fleur, wife of Parceval, bent her head to within a hair’s width of Guinevere’s face. “How does it feel, you evil hag? How does it feel to be utterly powerless with someone else in control for a change?”

  Guinevere gathered a clump of saliva in her mouth and spat at her.

  Fleur squinted against the attack, then swiped the back of her hand hard against Guinevere’s cheek, causing her to scream in shock and pain.

  “I’ll have you tortured for this,” Guinevere shouted, tasting the tang of fresh blood in her mouth.

  “You can’t have someone tortured when you’re dead.”

  At the sound of the other woman’s voice, Guinevere turned to look at her. It was Ragnell, the dark beauty, wife of Gawain. “Dead?” She laughed as the situation started to make sense in her hazy state of wakefulness. “You mere subjects cannot kill me. Camelot needs me, for my body provides the Knights of the Round Table with the strength they need to protect us. Without me, their limbs are too weak to secure victory in battle, and all your lives are in jeopardy. Kill me and you kill everyone. You kill Camelot.”

  Fleur knitted her brow and looked over to the dark beauty. “Is that true?”

  A shadow formed over the foot of her bed, blocking out the glow of the moon that shone through the window. It was a third woman. She was tall and thin, but in the darkness Guinevere couldn’t make out her facial features.

  “Maybe,” the woman casting the shadow said. “It is true that the pendant’s powers render the knights weak, and they need to feed from her to gain strength, but if she’s dead—”

  “When she’s dead,” the dark beauty took over. “The pendant’s magic should die with her.”

  “How do you know that?” Fleur asked.

  Ragnell’s eyes shifted from one of her accomplices to the other, and Guinevere thought, for a moment, she wasn’t going to answer. After a few seconds of silence, she sighed, as if resigned to tell a secret she had no choice but to reveal. “I know from my years of studying sorcery. You first knew of me as a hag. My appearance at the time was a consequence of my meddling in magic I wasn’t mature enough at the time to understand.” She looked down.

  “Go on, Ragnell,” the shadowed woman at the end of the bed pressed.

  “Usually, magic as powerful as the pendant possesses has to be made for the person for whom it is destined. When that person ceases to exist, then so does the magic. If Vivien concocted the spell of the pendant just for the queen, then once we rid this world of her, we also rid it of the despicable hex the pendant has over us.”

  “And our men will no longer be weakened,” the thin figure added from the foot of her bed, still shrouded in darkness. The figure stepped forward into the moon’s light, and Guinevere saw her features for the first time.

  Elaine. The fraud who tricked Lancelot into bedding her, then bore him a son. I will not be overpowered by that witch.

  “But what if Vivien didn’t tailor it for the queen?” Distracted by her concerns, Fleur momentarily relaxed her grip on Guinevere’s arm. Without hesitation, Guinevere wrenched her other arm away from Ragnell and kicked her hard in the stomach, causing her to double over in pain. Seizing her chance to escape, she scampered off the bed in the direction of her chamber door.

  “Don’t let her get away!” Elaine’s screech trilled in her ears.

  She reached for the door knob, stretching her arm so far she thought it would dislocate from her shoulder. Before she could get a grip on it, fingers clawed at her and held her back.

  “No, no, get away from me you witches!” She slammed her limbs wildly against whatever part of their bodies she could make contact with. But without her pendant the strength of the three of them was too much.

  The cool night air bustled in from the open window and bit at the sweat that seeped from her naked skin, but she wasn’t cold. She was boiling hot. Her assailants grappled to get a firm hold on her slick skin. Every time one of their hands slipped, she thrashed out to fend them off, but she couldn’t break free of all of them at once.

  They dragged her toward the window, her feet screaming with pain as her toes bent backward against the rough stone floor. “You’ll be punished to dea
th for this, all of you. I am your queen for goodness’ sake. This is treason. Treason!”

  She caught sight of the pendant on her dressing table. Its bright green glow illuminated the faces of her perpetrators, making their cheekbones appear gaunt and their facial bones angular and demon-like. If only she was wearing it around her neck, it would afford her the strength to overpower each and every one of the women with a single swipe of her arm. She stared at the pendant, willing it to somehow float over to her and drape itself around her neck, where it belonged.

  Floating, floating.

  The sensation enveloped her. But it was she who was floating, not the pendant. Floating downward toward the courtyard below. Not floating—falling. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the inevitable landing, and as the impact came, her head flooded with a beautiful explosion of emerald green.

  ****

  Fleur’s body shook with the horror and thrill of what had just happened. “We did it,” she gasped through shallow breaths. “We actually did it. We killed the queen.”

  “We most certainly did, ladies.” Elaine’s comforting voice felt so warm and familiar that Fleur burst into tears. For what felt like an age, all she, Elaine, and Ragnell could do was hug each other, cry, and laugh.

  It was Elaine who finally broke from their embrace by tipping her head up to the ceiling with a grin on her face. “No more bowing down to Guinevere, no more chastity, and no more watching our husbands slope off to make love to someone else.” Her eyes danced with moisture, and she swiped the heel of her hand across her cheek to wipe away her happy tears. “Womenfolk of Camelot, we’re finally free.”

  ****

  In their excited gaggle, Vivien was sure the trio hadn’t seen her sneak into Guinevere’s chamber nor notice her dart fleetingly to the late queen’s dresser, on which the pendant lay. Without making a sound, she sat atop the cushioned stool and traced her index fingers along the chain of the pendant, its emerald now dull.

  She’d finished with the werewolves just as the shouting had begun. She’d looked up from the courtyard toward the queen’s chamber to see a group of figures scrabbling and fighting at the open window. She knew then that the time was nigh.

  The queen was dead. Of that she was in no doubt, for as she dashed, still naked, up the stairs toward Guinevere’s chamber, she heard the thud of her body slamming against the ground.

  Tentatively, she touched the pendant with the pad of her finger. It doesn’t burn anymore.

  The truth was, she hadn’t known exactly what would happen to the pendant’s magic once the queen was dead, but she hoped and prayed the spell she had cast was effective and the pendant would be rendered powerless until it lay on the chest of Guinevere’s successor. It appeared her prayers had been answered.

  She regarded her reflection in the looking glass, smiled at herself, picked up the pendant, and hung it around her neck. It was her turn now. No more would she be told to take her leave just as her cunt was alive with desire, no more would she have to seek the cocks of beasts for sexual gratification. With the power of the pendant, she could summon any man of her choosing, whenever her heart desired.

  She glared at the gemstone upon her chest and held her breath as she waited for its warmth to spread over her and the transformation of her body to begin. But however much she stared at it, the pendant remained dull.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Vivien swiveled around at the sound of the voice. Elaine, wife of Lancelot stood beside her friends, her hand on her hips.

  Realizing for the first time that Vivien had entered the room, Ragnell and Fleur ceased their jubilations. Ragnell’s hands flew to her mouth. “It’s Vivien. She’s wearing the pendant!”

  “No need to worry, fellow womenfolk,” Elaine’s voice was calm and level. “The necklace she wears is but a normal stone. It possesses no power or magic.”

  Vivien stood up, sending the stool scraping backward against the stone floor. “What are you talking about, you stupid witch? The pendant of Camelot nestles here, between my breasts. Any moment now, it will come to life and grant me the gift of milk and honey to strengthen every Knight of The Round Table.”

  “Hmm, you’re right about one thing. I am a witch, remember?”

  “You were. Until I stripped you of your magic as punishment for tricking Lancelot into sleeping with you. Guinevere ordered it.”

  “There is nothing wrong with your powers of recollection, Sorceress,” Elaine said. “And yes, you did indeed take away my magic, but you couldn’t possibly take away my knowledge. I’m one of you, don’t forget. I’m a witch. I know how your mind works.”

  Vivien narrowed her eyes. “You’re nothing like me.”

  Elaine began to saunter over to Vivien. “I knew what you were up to. You’d come to resent Guinevere as much as we had. That was obvious from the conversation you had with the hag in the herb garden. I was there, crouched out of sight, listening to your every word.”

  Vivien stood rooted to the spot as Elaine stopped in front of her. “That’s what I told the hag? Do you think I didn’t know it was your pathetic little friend, Ragnell, dark beauty, wife of Gawain?”

  Gasps came from Ragnell and Fleur, still standing by the window out of which Guinevere had met her demise.

  “Oh, my poor dears.” Vivien clicked her tongue and shook her head in mock sympathy. “Did you think your pathetic attempt at a transformation could fool me, Sorceress of Camelot? I admit, it did for a moment, but I knew something about that old woman was familiar. It was the voice. As everyone with the real gift of magic knows, changing the voice can result in the reverse transformation failing. And Ragnell is far too vain to risk her looks not returning.”

  “Perhaps you deduced as much,” Elaine said. “Or perhaps you only realized it was Ragnell when you found her hair pin. I saw you place it in your pocket.”

  “But why did you tell me all those secrets if you knew my true identity?” Ragnell asked.

  “Because she needed us to overthrow Guinevere.” Although Elaine addressed Ragnell, she kept her back to her and continued to stare into Vivien’s eyes.

  “She wanted all the power for herself, so that she could declare herself the new queen.” Fleur’s small voice explained the final piece of the puzzle.

  “Precisely,” Vivien said. She stroked her hands over the pendant. “The blonde one’s not as stupid as she looks.”

  Ragnell took a step forward, her fists clenched at her side. “No, Vivien! Why? You hated Guinevere as much as we did. Why would you want to turn yourself into a sexual caricature like her if you knew we were set to overthrow her and reclaim our freedom?”

  Vivien let out a humorless laugh. “Your freedom, don’t you mean? You expect me to go back to being a lowly witch while you all trot back to your husbands and enjoy the fruits of their limbs, of which you have been prohibited for so long? I think not, fair maiden.”

  “Even with all the magic you possess, you couldn’t do it on your own, could you?” Elaine asked. “So you tricked us into doing your dirty work for you. At least, you thought you did.”

  “It is my right to reign over Camelot,” Vivien said. “For I am the one who overthrew Arthur and created the most powerful source of magic across all of England. This pendant—” She held up the green jewel. “—now belongs to me. The power vested within it is mine. Soon, it will burn brightly again, for me this time, and the Knights of the Round Table must come to me to regain their strength for battle.”

  “No, they will not.” Elaine placed her hand in her pocket and pulled out a necklace with a large, green gemstone, then hung it around her own neck.

  Vivien’s heart quickened. “But how can that be? The pendant, it’s here.” She moved her hand to her chest and closed her fingers around the large emerald between her breasts, relieved to find it still there.

  “I think you will find the stone you’re wearing, Vivien, is a fake. The genuine article—” Elaine swooped a hand in front of her chest. “—is right
here.”

  “I don’t understand, Elaine.” Ragnell’s voice, weak and wobbly, rang out from the back of the room.

  “What’s happening?” Fleur asked, clutching Ragnell’s hand. “Is this part of the plan?”

  Elaine ignored their questions completely, not even bothering to turn around to face them. She jabbed a finger at the stone on Vivien’s breastbone. “I made that necklace myself from mere glass and metal. After we’d thrown Guinevere from the window and Fleur and Ragnell were joined in a celebratory embrace, I quickly swapped the real pendant for the one I’d created. It didn’t burn my hand because as Ragnell rightly said, it ceased to work once the queen was dead. Of course, as her knowledge of sorcery is somewhat rusty, she did not know the stone would glow again once it was claimed by a successor.”

  The pendant upon Elaine’s bosom began to flicker before the glow steadied and brightened. Her face lit up into a picture of elation. “It’s started.”

  “Elaine, no! What are you doing?” Ragnell stepped forward, but Fleur grabbed her, holding her back.

  “It’s too late, Ragnell,” she cried. “The pendant gives her super-human strength. She could hurt you. Stay back.”

  Elaine unfastened her dress and let it fall to the floor. Naked, she kicked the heap of fabric aside and shoved Vivien out of the way to allow her access to the looking glass behind the dressing table.

  Warmth emanated from the jewel, which seeped through her entire body. In seconds, her breasts grew sore and her cunt ached with a force she had never felt before.

  She gripped the edge of the dresser for support and bit down hard on her lip as the pendant’s powers overtook her body. In her reflection, she saw the blemishes on her face fade. Her cheekbones sharpened and her lips filled out and reddened. The pain in her breasts as they grew was excruciating. She clutched one to try and ease the discomfort and felt her nipple enlarge and harden against her palm. Only then did she allow herself to release a groan, expressing both the pain and frustration her renewed sexual appetite brought, which already, within seconds of wearing the pendant, begged her to seek satisfaction.