Guinevere woke up the next day.
The moment she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find the King of Knights still holding her.
"Lia, you're so beautiful," Guinevere murmured.
Warm sunlight streamed through the curtains, a single ray falling perfectly across the King's hair, making it gleam brilliantly.
Shifting from being held to holding, Guinevere adjusted their positions. She reached one hand into the sunlight, gently grasping a strand of the King's golden hair as if it were pure gold.
Warm, silky, just as she remembered.
As Guinevere continued to gaze foolishly at the King, her cheeks flushed crimson, and she pressed her other hand tightly against her face.
Lia has put aside matters of state for me... Does that mean I'm more important to her than the kingdom itself? Guinevere wondered to herself, though she knew deep down this was impossible, a lie she was telling herself.
But even if I know it's impossible, what's wrong with dreaming? Hehehe... Lia...
Her expression twisted into something almost yandere-like, but her movements gradually woke the King. Guinevere quickly replaced the twisted look with a gentle smile.
But...
"I heard it. I saw it too."
The King of Knights' voice struck like a thunderbolt in a clear sky, causing Guinevere to shrink into herself momentarily. Three seconds passed, and the King of Knights remained solemn, lost in thought.
Her head throbbing with heat, Guinevere decided to throw caution to the wind. Meeting the King of Knights' gaze with her usual candor, she declared earnestly, "Lia, it's just because I love you so much!"
Her eyebrows arched slightly, a gentle smile curving her lips. The King of Knights' eyes flickered away, her heart racing. Guinevere's affection felt overwhelmingly heavy, leaving her meticulously prepared response inadequate and her earlier hesitation embarrassingly obvious.
Taking a deep breath, the King of Knights cupped Guinevere's face in her hands. She thought of Guinevere's tireless efforts over the past few days and the tales of her anguish that night, trapped outside the Cathedral.
In that instant, the King of Knights, not one to misunderstand human emotions, felt a surge of compassion. Finally, she spoke the words she had carefully rehearsed:
"Guinevere, though I cannot promise you that you will always be more important than affairs of state, on days like today, when everyone is forcing me to return to your side, I can devote my entire attention to you.
I'm sorry... You love me so deeply, yet I cannot reciprocate in equal measure."
As she spoke, the King of Knights' face flushed crimson, and the courage she had mustered before speaking gradually slipped into the void.
Having finished her words, the King of Knights lowered her hands from her face and dared not meet Guinevere's gaze again.
Little did she know, even just one day of "you are more important than matters of state" would have been an unimaginable joy for Guinevere, who had long since resigned herself to the King's priorities.
Guinevere understood better than anyone the profound importance the nation held in the heart of this King of Knights, who would willingly sacrifice her own life for her people.
Moreover, Guinevere believed that if she were to ascend the throne, she would never grant the King of Knights even a single day of "you are more important."
As a ruler, she would bear the weight of countless lives and the future of the realm, leaving no room for personal sentiment.
"Lia," Guinevere said, her smile widening, "if I were you, I would have said 'only for today,' not 'only for the day everyone forced me to return.'"
Her gaze bored into the King of Knights' eyes, as if trying to penetrate her very soul.
Simultaneously, Guinevere's one hand still cradled a sunlit strand of the King of Knights' hair, while her other hand had already settled on her slender waist.
The divine power of the Sword in the Stone had not only halted the King of Knights' aging but had also preserved her skin from the ravages of countless battlefields, leaving it eternally smooth and flawless.
The delicate, familiar sensation filled Guinevere's heart with joy, making her long to devour Artoria all over again.
But...
"Let's get up and bathe first. We're not entirely clean yet."
Yet? Guinevere didn't dwell on the word at first. She sniffed her hair and naturally detected the faint scent of sweat, lighter than she'd expected.
Her smile froze. Her cheeks, still flushed from their earlier intimacy, deepened to crimson as she jolted out of bed like she'd been electrocuted.
Dazed, Guinevere hastily threw on some clothes and poked her head out the door, asking the waiting maid for a bathing tub.
Moments later, her request was swiftly fulfilled. She carried the tub inside herself.
For a knight at the pinnacle of Camelot's hierarchy, lifting a half-full wooden tub just two meters in diameter was as effortless as grabbing a chicken.
Once the door was sealed shut again, the soundproofing Magecraft reactivated, and the King of Knights returned from the window, carefully masking the worry etched between her brows.
"Lia, I'm also concerned about the situation in Camelot City. After we bathe, let's go take a look around together. If we walk side by side, Tristan and the others can't accuse you of being out of touch with the people's feelings anymore."
"No, I just promised I'd only look at you today."
The King of Knights rubbed her face, offering an apologetic smile. She walked over to the wooden tub, tested the water temperature with her hand, and stepped in first.
After steadying herself in the tub, she extended an inviting hand to Guinevere.
"There's no rush. Let me wipe myself down first so the water doesn't get dirty immediately."
"Guinevere, didn't you notice? I already wiped you down once while you were sleeping like the dead. I even changed the sheets and blankets. Otherwise...
I wouldn't have been able to sleep soundly."
As she spoke, the King of Knights pressed her lips together, recalling Tristan's furious scolding upon their arrival at Camelot, the half-kneeling pleas of the remaining knights, and the sight of the kneeling populace, their bodies swaying like waves of wheat.
They didn't want their King to exert herself for them immediately. Instead, they urged her to spend time with Guinevere, who had reportedly just returned to her chambers after three days of relentless work without rest.
The common people were simple; they remembered those who treated them well, unless their minds were already blinded by prejudice before the kind person appeared.
Lost in thought, the King of Knights spoke from the depths of her heart:
"The sweat on your body is proof of your hard work. How could I ever disdain it?"
In this world, the most profound declarations of love were often simply the honest truth, especially from the King of Knights, who never bothered with flowery words or contrived flattery.
Outside the bath, Guinevere lowered the towel she had been holding. Her worries and grievances vanished in that moment, leaving only hatred for the Holy Church and deep affection for the King of Knights.
Guinevere hadn't consciously tried to change the King of Knights. But as she accomplished deeds worthy of standing shoulder to shoulder with her...
The King of Knights naturally turned her gaze toward Guinevere, etching her into her heart and changing for her sake.
"Guinevere, stop standing there like a fool. It's cold outside—come join me in the bath."
"Mm!"
Guinevere replied with delight, eagerly stepping into the tub. Though both harbored anxieties about the state of Camelot, they focused solely on each other, thinking only of each other.
Yet...
As they bathed, with Guinevere scrubbing the King of Knights' back, she couldn't help but ask:
"How did your campaign against the Rebel Kings go? Did the Church set any traps for you?"
Though preoccupied, Guinevere listened intently. After hearing her out, the King of Knights chuckled and shot her a teasing glance.
"Should I say what you were supposed to say? Something like, 'Guinevere, today I only allow you to look at me.'"
As she spoke, the King of Knights' expression turned serious. She was merely imagining what Guinevere would say if she asked the same question.
Ah, I seem to understand her all too well.