Round Table Arthur Novels & Stories

The confidence I had gathered while being with him was enough to get me to sit at a table, but that was it. I could not utter a word. Plus, all they were saying was something I could barely relate to. “Your drink, my lady,” Arthur said, placing a glass of wine before me on the table, shooting me a bright smile. The eyes of every female on the table turned to him. He didn't seem to mind. Arthur leaned into my ear, his fingers wrapped around the side of my neck. “I'm being called over. Do you need me to stay?” his tone low.

My heavy footsteps echoed off the polished marble floor. I pushed the double frosted-glass doors open without knocking. Arthur sat at the head of the twenty-foot mahogany table. To his right sat Harold Vance, the chief legal counsel for Crown Media, and three senior board members who had served Arthur for thirty years. Arthur didn't stand. He lowered his gold-rimmed reading glasses, placing them carefully on a leather folder. "You're late, Dominic," Arthur said, his voice smooth, devoid of warmth. "You're in my chair," I replied, standing at the opposite end of the table. I didn't sit. I rested both hands flat on the polished wood, leaning forward.

Aliyah was rudely interrupted by Priscilla "Leader of the round table, Norrignton, I hail you, this woman here is a con artist and I had been right all along; she was never worthy of being part of the round table" Priscilla looked on to everyone seated and watched as their face morphed into one of realization.

Rex walked alongside him with a frustrated expression. Arthur pushed the door open and looked across the room as they all turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Your Highness—” Arthur growled at Tom who shut his mouth quickly and jumped back. The rest of the assembly turned away from him stiffly as Blade and Rex entered behind him. Rex rounded the table, eyeing the throne that had been freshly polished. He supposed it was meant to be Arthur’s seat, but Arthur didn’t even glance at it, rounding the table to stand beside Blade behind the seat Rex usually occupied.

The morning air in the grand hall was cold, despite the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Staff were buzzing around, moving heavy furniture and setting up lighting equipment. In the middle of it all stood Arthur, looking at the room like a general preparing for a battle. "Move that chair three inches to the left," Arthur commanded, not looking at the servant he was speaking to. "And make sure the crest on the wall is perfectly centered in the frame. This isn't just a photo. It’s a statement."

"But they seem eager to talk to you." Arthur did not want to see the Council. But Finn was right. He should listen to what they had to say. Even if he did not like it. Arthur walked to the Council chamber. It was a big room with a long table. Seven old men sat around the table with serious faces. They had been his father's advisors. Now they were his. Arthur did not really want a Council. They were old and scared and always worried about taking risks. But his father had trusted them. So Arthur kept them to honor his father's memory.

He grew up in a pack where shifting in front of one another normally and when you shift back you don’t have clothes that automatically cover you. "How about we eat?" Arden asked. Aurora nodded and walked over to the table that sat in the center of the room. It was a round table with four chairs placed around it. It was a dark wood as well with a black lantern and candle placed in the center. The place mats were a black material as well.

When it is our turn, we move past the massive black marble pillars and stop in front of the massive glass and steel chandelier that is shaped like the moon in all her phases. The man's voice booms, "Thomas Dixon the Third, his mate, Vivianne Harcourt-Dixon, and his daughter, Emily blackwood." Another indication that the world I left behind has changed since my departure is the fact that this majordomo is different from the one who had previously held the job for my whole life. The man seated at the dais is the same. I recall king Arthur as a broad-shouldered sloucher with a neatly trimmed beard and a small paunch, looking like a costumed dragon from How to Train Your Dragon.

“You’re a liar! I’ve never met either of you!” “Really?” The redhead woman seared forward. “Oh, but I have proof! I have several of our sex tapes!” Arthur’s face blanched, as he staggered, clutching the tablecloth for balance. “Ack!” Rather than steadying himself, he yanked the cloth with all his weight. Plates, glasses and half-finished cups of coffee crashed onto the marble floor. The floral centrepiece toppled over, scattering roses across the floor. With a startled cry, Arthur crashed flat onto his back. All the food came toppling on him, staining him from head to toe.

Arthur Matthews sat at the head of the table. Adrian sat at his right looking tired and frustrated. Across from them sat four of the company’s top executives, all of them looking at their tablets nervously. Arthur slammed his hand down on the table. The sound echoed in the large room.