Quickly, Lancelot rose to his feet, somewhat embarrassed that he had not yet done so. He brushed his trousers off and smiled sheepishly. "Forgive my manners, my lady, my mind has still not caught up with me."
Now that he stood, and could see her properly, he could also see the marks on her neck. Something inside him coiled tightly, and his fingers automatically twitched at his side, ready to grip a hilt that wasn't there. So instead, he lifted them, letting them hover just a hair away from the bruises. "Guinevere, what happened to you?"