Lancelot and the King
The Knights of Camelot Book 1
by Sarah Luddington
Genre: M/M Historical Fantasy Romance
A love long-held, the love of a knight for his king, a love which must be denied. Lancelot is banished from Camelot in disgrace, not only has he lost his honour and country, but too late he realises he has lost his love. When duty calls him to return, Lancelot doesn’t think twice and once more puts on his armour. If his king needs him and he is called to the sword, he knows where he must be. His country is threatened, the dark wings of war are gathering and his love… that will just have to wait. The needs of one man’s heart cry for peace, but Lancelot understands what he must do. He will stand shoulder to shoulder with the man he loves and if they survive the battlefields, if they can survive the peace, then maybe, just maybe, a knight and his king can put aside their call to arms and listen to the call of their hearts. The Knights of Camelot series is a reimagining of the Arthurian legends. Each book features two (or more) men in love with one another, steamy encounters, and more. These books are not intended to be read as standalones, so be sure to start at the beginning with Lancelot and the King.Goodreads * Amazon book 1 – Lancelot and the King will be FREE June 29th – July 4th!!
Lancelot and the Sword
The Knights of Camelot Book 2
A powerful new threat looms over Camelot and the fleeting sanctuary of
love is shattered. Maybe beyond repair.
Lancelot and Arthur must place their joy on hold to save the kingdom.
As chaos takes hold over the land, the time for tender passion has
passed. This is the time for heroes, the time for a king and his
greatest knight to make a stand and lead their country through the
fires of war.
But in the midst of the battles sometimes the needs of the moment demand
sacrifice and a trust is broken.
With the blood of betrayal still running, Lancelot finds himself drawn to
another. Perhaps in Tancred’s tender embrace he might just find the
peace he so desperately craves.
jealous king is a dangerous creature and the ghosts of the dead are
intent on hounding a broken soul to the grave.
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Lancelot and the Grail
The Knights of Camelot Book 3
A broken and shattered knight hides from the world and from the man who
destroyed him. Betrayed by the man he loved, Lancelot vows that the
only way he will return is to see the heart of his king staining the
floors of Camelot.
Then one day, a gentler soul tracks down the tormented knight and sets to
repairing a mind so damaged, there may never be a way back. When
Tancred finds Lancelot, he is barely recognisable.
The revenant of a once powerful knight, with a heart which burns so
intensely, it is only the pain which gives life.
But Tancred is not going to lose a soulmate he has spent a lifetime
waiting to find.
Lancelot will return and his sword is thirsty for blood. The power of the
Grail and the fury of Excalibur are turned on the enemies of Camelot
in a race to save a kingdom and a brotherhood bound in blood.
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The Knights of Camelot Book 4
With King Arthur’s blood still fresh on Lancelot’s hands, a deal is
struck. A deal which will bind the knight to an evil power in return
for the life of the man he loves.
Lancelot is forced to work for the fey in a bargain which is set to unleash a
new terror on the lands. A force so powerful that even the gods step
back to watch.
With Tancred at his side, the vengeful knight must bide his time and play
the fey’s games.
Games which will cost Lancelot his soul if he cannot find a way to defeat
the evil which grows. But when the final prophecy is revealed,
Lancelot must challenge his fate alone.
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The Knights of Camelot Book 5
The gods play games, and Albion’s gods seem to enjoy the chase. When
chaos descends the gentlest soul will break.
When that soul belongs to the man to whom Lancelot has given his heart,
death is coming for the tormenters.
Lancelot is now the king of Albion and his sword will destroy her enemies.
Even if those enemies are more powerful than anything he could have
But first he needs to save his love. A man so destroyed that his thirst
for revenge will not stop until the kingdom runs red.
Forced to make alliances with once hated enemies, the needs of war forge
To save a kingdom may just cost Lancelot the only thing he has left. His
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The Knights of Camelot Book 6
With only one chance to save his lover, and his land, Lancelot must make a
new deal with the gods.
They will demand everything Lancelot holds and take the last threads of
hope from his heart.
The torment that the god of chaos and misery sets to work in Lancelot’s
life, threatens to destroy Albion and Camelot, but the god never
figured on the power of love and with Arthur’s help, there may just
be a way to survive such sadness.
Lancelot must find a way to stop their destruction before Camelot, Albion and
Tancred are lost forever. This time there is no hope, no battle he
can win, no twist to save his cursed life.
The knight turns his eyes to the heavens and his curse follows on a swift
His only hope is that the sacrifice he gives proves to be enough to save
his lost love.
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Betrayal of Lancelot
The Knights of Camelot Book 7
For six hundred years, Lancelot has been lost.
Lost in a world so far from Camelot that his blood stills and his soul
craves nothing but oblivion. Six hundred years of fighting other
men’s wars and bedding other men’s lovers. Six hundred years of death.
But Fate wants her hero back and Lancelot must give up this new world of
machines and cities to return to Albion.
The gods are rising and Mordred has a new ally.
An ally more fearsome than any Lancelot has ever encountered.
With Arthur once more by his side, they face what they believe will be
their final battle. An appointment with the darkest soul in Albion
and his even darker god.
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Passion of Lancelot
The Knights of Camelot Book 8
When the battle rests, the hearts are laid bare.
Lancelothas destroyed the person who loved him and who brought him back from
the dead. Tancred lies broken and Arthur will never release his hold
But wars have no time for broken hearts and the three men are all that
stand between Camelot and the advancing armies in the north. Somehow
they must find a way to put the pain of broken love to one side
before all is lost under the gathering evil.
They must learn to trust each other once more, if only for one last time.
Camelot needs its greatest knights now; there will be time enough for
hearts to heal when the battle is done.
If they survive.
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Revenge of Lancelot
The Knights of Camelot Book 9
When a god strips you of everything you love, what is there left to do but fight?
Lancelot, Arthur and Tancred face their god of madness and chaos in the centre
of the world. Fate holds her breath as the three heroes draw on the
last of their strength to bring peace to Albion.
But can a warrior ever be still? Is there a place where heroes can sleep?
Or is there only death for those who made death their lives?
Lancelot knows he is facing his final battle, but it is not the battle of the
sword he fears, it is the battle of the heart.
is victorious, he will secure peace for Albion for eternity. Yet
still his heart aches.
The fiercest knight that Camelot has ever known is fearful of the fragile
soul his battered body conceals.
There may be only one answer and the thought scares him more than any enemy
he has ever faced.
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Lancelot- The Lost Years: The Spear
The Knights of Camelot Book 10
“The voices of the past are often too
strong to resist. I have been away from Camelot and
Albion for five long centuries. Occasionally though, a soul brushes
against mine and I feel it… I feel love in all its forms regardless
of the cost. No one can replace Arthur or Tancred, but there are
souls in this long lonely life that make it bearable, even happy, and
I live only for those candle flashes of hope.”
Lancelot is cursed to walk the world alone. His is the immortal Knight of
Camelot, cast adrift after angering the god Balar. Time drifts
endlessly for him until he finds a reason to live.
Lady Elizabeth Rothschild is a noble of the Great British Empire and she
is going to prove that a noble woman can control just as much as a
noble man. Her tool for this mission is a man called Lance Ash, a
drunkard, a whoremonger, a wastrel, but someone very good at his job.
He is her treasure hunter, and she wants him to find the Holy Spear
which pierced the flank of the true God.
Lance Ash knows
exactly how dangerous such a quest can be for all involved, but when
he meets the Lady Rothschild’s half brother, Lance Ash is lost and
Lancelot du Lac is reborn.
A Knights of Camelot story which
takes place between Lancelot’s Curse and Betrayal of Lancelot.
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Sarah Luddington is the author of historical gay romance and contemporary gay romance. She is a gay rights activist, holds three martial arts black belts, a degree in Medieval History and far too many dogs. She lives on a mountain in Spain and in her spare time writes and reads LGBT fiction. Come and visit her website at www.romanticadventures.net or Facebook for more information. She always welcomes contact with her readers. Many thanks. Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Amazon * Goodreads
“from Arthur and Lancelot”
WE RODE UP THE hill to the castle and the weather closed in. The clouds lowered, the wind rose,
snapping at my pennon, the Wolf’s head shimmering in the flat light. It would rain before too long,
making footing dangerous. I mentally prepared, once more going through simple combinations of
sword movements in my mind. I brought forward all I knew of Arthur’s fighting style and
remembered every fight we’d shared. Calm filled me, I remained centred and back in my world. This
I knew how to do, I knew how to fight. Women, politics, they were a mystery to me but fighting I
We approached the castle and I realised a great crowd swelled and rolled, like a huge wave of
humanity. King Arthur always drew an audience. I wished we didn’t have a crowd but Camelot’s all
Once we reached the main gate, the throng parted. We walked over the moat and through the
wall into the killing fields. The soldiers lined the way to the tourney field, keeping the people back.
We made short work of reaching the site. Without the time to set up a tourney field outside the city,
we were squashed into the practice area. There wasn’t a great deal of room for the castle’s inhabitants
never mind the city folk. The walls began to close in on me, the armour became heavy and my vision
too restricted. The noise of the crowd and the stink of bodies made me wish for the open fields and
my simple life with Else.
I saw Geraint, Kay and many others scattered through the crowd of wealthy merchants. My
eyes slid to the centre of the heaving tableau. I saw two things at once, Arthur, sat astride Willow, his
mighty warhorse and Guinevere stood beside him but not touching him or looking in his direction.
She stared directly at me.
I knew she couldn’t see who sat under the black armour but her ice blue eyes captured my
attention so thoroughly I stopped breathing. Across the distance of the tourney field, I realised
Guinevere’s beauty still made me breathless. The wind moved her cloak and with it her hood, giving
hints of her slim figure and hair spun from the light of the sun.
“Hey, lover, focus,” Else snapped.
I turned to her and looked down into her elfin face. Her eyes had turned the colour of dark
honey when she felt calm and at peace. Her skin always retained a warmth in its tones which
reminded me of summer. Her body’s slimness came from hard work and hours in the saddle, not
contrived eating habits.
I took a deep breath and willed myself to snap the chains Guinevere placed on my heart so
long ago. “You mean the world to me,” I said.
“Bloody good job,” Else said. “Or I might be forced to release that damned spell all over you
I chuckled, suddenly preferring all the complications of my relationship with Else, to Arthur
and Guinevere any day. I studied my opponent. He sat on Willow, the great black stallion looking
sleek and perfect as ever. Unlike Ash, Willow had the temper of a gelding but the brains of a true
destrier. They were a fine pair, even if Ash’s temper usually meant he’d rather fight with Willow than
beside him. Jealousy in horses is not attractive. Because of Ash’s colour change, they appeared to be
brothers and Ash shifted as he recognised the scent of the other horse. Arthur himself sat straight in
the saddle and the lance in his hand did not waver.
Else rode forward. “My Lord is here and prepared for the tourney,” she said her voice
carrying over the hum of the crowd.
Arthur, his visor raised, said in return, “As is traditional.” His voice rang clear and strong.
Arthur had sobered up. “The knight has the right to ask for anything from me if he wins, other than
“All he asks in return is the chance to plead his case to the greatest of kings, in audience
alone,” Else said.
I frowned. Arthur always included his wife in that speech. Guinevere stood beside him as if a
statue made from chalk. Her eyes blazed with the fury of a smith’s forge. It meant, if a knight were
brave enough he could ask for the Queen. I tried hard to ignore the implications but I felt them like
poisonous demons on my back pulling my hair for attention.
Else distracted me by handing me the black shield I needed for protection. “Good luck and
don’t get hurt,” she whispered. I just grunted in return.
Kay stepped forward. “Are we ready for the joust? Rules as always, the first to yield or the
first to blood is the winner.” Just two rules existed in this contest, don’t aim to kill, don’t maim on
Arthur lowered his visor and gathered his reins. Willow stepped forward. I gathered Ash’s
reins and fought him for dominance until he realised he couldn’t grab the bit and run for his enemy.
We lowered our lances. The crowd grew quiet. I focused on Arthur’s great shield. The crest of the oak
emblazoned on its surface. My own felt heavy on my left arm, a comfort. Kay gave the order to
charge. Ash had already begun moving before Kay finished the word. The thunder of his hooves at
full gallop filled my head. We were on the outside run of the lists, nearest the wall rather than the
keep. I couldn’t see anything other than my opponent racing toward me, lowering his lance as I did
mine. I knew we were matched at the quintain, so the chances were we would not unhorse each other
on the first pass. I also knew the more often we did this the more likely one of us would be seriously
hurt. I had to unhorse Arthur regardless of our skill.
Ash reached for greater speed, as was his habit just before we met our target. He lengthened
his stride, I braced my lance against my besagew and angled it a little too far to the left so it would
glance off Arthur’s shield and not splinter into his body by accident. I needed to use his momentum to
unseat him by taking his balance. The horses were a thunderous noise in my head. I tensed my right
side while relaxing my left so I could turn in the saddle if necessary.
One moment I moved freely, with the endless power of my horse racing forward. The next,
the world stopped moving with the brutality of a hammer hitting an anvil. The anvil being my
shoulder. Arthur’s lance shattered against me, my lance struck his shield and shattered to one side. He
hit me square. Hunkered down behind my shield the splintered wood cascaded around me. I twisted to
accommodate the force of his momentum. Arthur however, was not so lucky.
Galloping past each other, I realised I’d struck home. I’d hit him a strong glancing blow. His
seat in the saddle had overextended toward me, enabling him to hit me with accuracy, but it meant I’d
encouraged him too far past his centre of gravity. Arthur twisted to stay seated but as I pulled Ash up,
having discarded the shaft of my lance, I saw him overbalance. Instead of fighting the fall, Arthur
flipped his right leg over Willow’s neck and almost stepped off the horse. The stallion slowed, the
other half of a perfect team. Willow snorted and stamped, returning to Arthur, allowing him to pull his
great two handed bastard broadsword from his saddle. Arthur carried the thing on his back in battle
but Willow’s calm nature meant the horse returned with it even in the joust. I couldn’t have done that
with Ash. Whenever I fell off, he trotted away in disgust.
I’d earned the right to fight from horseback but I would never choose to do so, the unfair
advantage was not my way. I threw my leg over Ash’s neck and slid off the side, drawing my sword
as my feet hit the ground. My own favoured weapon was a hand-and-half broadsword. Big, but I
could wield it either one or two handed. I chose two for the moment and approached Arthur with great
care. His weapon was longer but heavier than mine and I knew from experience he intended to finish
this fight quickly. I had never known anyone move as fast as he could with that monster. However, he
couldn’t move as fast as me and I was fitter.
“You did well in the joust, Sir Knight,” Arthur said. I approached watching, gauging,
I tilted my head in acknowledgement of the compliment. He often engaged people in
conversation and then sprang into attack in the middle of a sentence.
“This vow of silence Does not need to continue, we are alone, tell me who you are and why
you want private audience with me,” he said, circling me.
The noise of the crowd cheering started to filter through the adrenaline. I did not want a
conversation. I moved into an obvious overhead strike, Arthur raised his sword and blocked the strike.
The swords crashed, sparks flew and my blade slid off Arthur’s. We began the fight in earnest. The
weapons wove patterns in the dull winter light and as predicted, the rain put in an appearance. We
were both good. I realised even if Arthur had been drinking, his skill remained sharp and there seemed
to be a driving force to his fight which never existed before. He attacked with unfamiliar recklessness.
I managed to slip under his guard and smashed my blade into his breastplate, but at the same moment,
I felt him smack my backplate with the pommel of his sword. It threw me forward me and I headed
for the dirt. I tucked and rolled. The unfamiliar armour made it a hard, slow movement.
“Fuck,” I cursed as I came up. I turned back to Arthur, just as he came in for a strike, which
would have taken my head off. I threw myself backward. This was supposed to be to the point we
yielded, not died. I gathered my senses together and realised this fight had become serious.
Did he know who was under the black armour? Did he care or did he want me dead?
He came at me again and it dawned on me I might lose this bout. If I did he would unmask
me in front of the crowd and I couldn’t give him due warning about my existence. He’d have to arrest
me without listening to me. He lunged. I deflected and led him into a pattern of movements. The
crowd screamed their approval. I caught a glimpse of Kay and Geraint, they stood side by side, grim
faced and silent. Arthur relaxed; he thought he’d worn me down. I caught the rhythm of his strike
toward my legs, swept his blade, rather than allowing it to smash into me, and forced it into a circle.
Arthur’s body had already began to turn into the next attack and I took control of his momentum. I
stepped into the attack, closed the distance, hooked my leg around his ankle and pulled back, while
smashing my armoured elbow into the top of his breastplate. He crashed to the ground and grunted,
air rushed out of his lungs. Arthur, always the scrapper, rolled away from me fast. I knew he’d move,
so as he rolled onto his chest I dropped over his body. The weight of me, my armour and his own,
pinned him down. I hooked my arm under his chin and pulled back against his helmet. Arthur grunted
in his discomfort.
I said, trying to hide my voice despite my breathlessness, “Yield, your Majesty, you know
you cannot win from here.”
I felt him strain against me. Our armour ran slick with rain. He would not yield. If I didn’t
hold him and we ended up fighting he would know it was me. He’d be able to smash me to death. I
wouldn’t be able to pin him again this easily. Despite my weight bearing down on him, Arthur heaved
and managed to raise himself off the ground, twisting as he did so.
“Please, Arthur, just fucking yield,” I cried out trying to force him down. The crowd didn’t
hear me but he did.
Arthur locked rigid. He now lay on his back, his left arm free. He raised his visor. He panted
hard but he looked more alive than he had that morning.
“Lancelot?” he whispered, his expression confused.
“Please, Arthur.” I eased my weight off him. “We need to talk. You are in danger.”
For just a moment his dark blue eyes filled with joy, before ungovernable rage contorted his
“I will never yield to you traitor,” he screamed, pushing against me. His heavy gauntlet
smashed into my head. The fist bounced off my helmet but the whiplash and noise were enough to
disorientate me for a moment. The shock of seeing the loathing in Arthur’s face made my brain
disengage from the fight. I found myself rolling back with Arthur on top trying to wrench my
I heard feet pounding toward us. Arthur almost yanked my head off trying to open my visor. I
saw Else running and Geraint’s voice booming at Arthur to stop. His fist came up as he saw my face. I
just lay there, unable to stop my King from trying to kill me. His fist came down. Pain radiated
through my head and my mind finally knew peace from the hate in his eyes.