by Ines Johnson
"That was amazing, Lady Lo," said Yuric.
"No one's ever done it on the first try," said Maurice.
"And she passed both trials," said one of the squires who'd stood beside Baysle earlier.
"Enough," bellowed Geraint. "All of you. On to martial training."
The boys broke away from me, but not before a few more whispered congratulations. They all fell in line behind Geraint and headed into the armory. I took my time dismounting, unsure if I wanted to face Geraint on the mat or with a weapon.
Achila bowed her head to me before trotting off towards a watering trough. Once again, her horse face was split wide in what looked like a grin. I turned towards the armory only to come face to face with Gawain.
"You used magic, didn't you?"
I shrugged.
"You don't play fair, Lady Lo."
"Not when the deck is stacked against me, no."
Instead of a lecture, he nodded in approval. Gawain was dressed in a loose-fitting pair of jeans today. His tunic shirt was open exposing the top of his breastbone. The divot at the center of his chest reminded me of the markings on the target I'd just hit.
"It could also be because I'm good with holes and sticks," I intoned. I took a step towards him, keeping my eye on the prize, visualizing my hands hitting a new mark.
Gawain's lips parted and his head jerked back. "You have a mouth on you, don't you?"
It was such an easy line to turn dirty. And I wasn't easy. Most days. Instead of responding, I tugged my lower lip into my mouth and then flicked out my tongue.
Clearly, he got the message. But instead of wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his body, Gawain took a step back. He hung his head and crossed his arms over his chest, covering up the spot I'd been aiming for.
"I can't dally with you, my lady."
"Well, I would hope not," I said. "You look like the type of man that would last longer than a dalliance."
His head snapped up. His lips parted and a gush of air rushed out through his half-hearted chuckle. But he took another step back.
"You're a witch," he said. "Witches deserve forever. I don't have that kinda time to give."
Was he talking about his curse of facing the Green Knight? I still wasn't buying it. I took a step towards him.
But he held up his hands. His expression turned deadly serious. The tone he used when he spoke what little words I let him get out, sounded like the beginning of a breakup speech. A restless ache ran through my right leg. My stomach churned and my head fogged with dizziness.
"Listen, Loren-"
"I was just joking around with you." The words gushed out of my mouth, high-pitched and a touch on the hysterical side. I turned so he didn't see the flush on my cheeks. I coughed and cleared my throat, trying to get back my low and sultry register. When I turned back around, I had my blasé mask firmly in place.
"It's just that I-I'm getting out of a rel-" I choked on the word.
I didn't do relationships. Lenny had been an exception that I had no plans to make again. So what Gawain was rejecting me? At least he wasn't pushing me towards a sacrificial altar. So that was something.
"I was just looking for a little rebound fun," I said. "I can find my kicks elsewhere."
I called to Achila mentally. Thank God it worked. She lifted her head from the trough and trotted back over to me. I hopped back on the horse and took off before Gawain could say anything more.
Chapter Nine
Achila and I galloped across the land. The stallion asked no questions as she carried me away from the castle. She ran at superhuman, or rather super horse, speeds. It felt like we were flying. The wind tossed my hair behind my back. Achila's mane whipped around my face as I let go of the reins and dug my hands into her silky locks.
This felt normal. This felt natural— running. This was my normal response when things went left. I turned right on my heel and ran. I'd been running my whole life, never standing still. It worked for me because I looked good from the back. So, in a sense, my turning tail and running did people a service 'cause they got a look at my perky ass.
The kids at school had gotten a good laugh at my ass back in my glory days. The science community had seen their fair share when they turned me away every time I tried to clear my father's name. And now, Gawain had watched my seat as I galloped away before he could reject me.
A medical patient could get stuck a hundred times with a needle, but they'd flinch each time the tiny prick broke their skin. No matter what they did, they would never be prepared for that sting. For some reason, I kept offering up my veins. Probably because I liked pricks.
Gawain may have had it right. If I were planning to work with this army of men, I shouldn't try to sleep with any of them. I just didn't know how to be friends with a man.
Except for Nia's ex-boyfriend, Zane. But that was easy since Zane was blind to every woman who wasn't Nia. He took all of my innuendos as jokes. Which they were for the most part. I would never sleep with a friend's boyfriend.
Again.
Don't judge. I didn't grow up in Western civilization. In some cultures, women shared men. I'd learned firsthand that to share a penis was to pave a sharply sloping cliff that led straight to disaster.
I took a deep breath of the afternoon air and tasted moisture. We must be nearing the river. Achila continued running at top speeds. Being a magical horse, she could last longer than a regular horse, but I needed to stop.
My bum needed a break from all this running. My chest also ached. Likely from the wound of the dagger that had split my heart open a couple of weeks ago.
Surprisingly, dying hadn't been so painful. It had been peaceful. I'd looked up into my bestie's face. Nia had been absolutely panic-stricken. That was cool. I hadn't thought anybody would shed a tear if I'd died.
I'd been surrounded by the knights and Gwin. No one had cried, but they didn't let me walk into the light either. They'd fought to bring me back from the brink of death as I'd almost slipped through their fingers. It had been nice.
Achila slowed as we came to the water's edge. The River Usk bordered Caerleon on the southern border. We were still on the lands of Camelot. A cool breeze blew from the opposite bank, and I shuddered. The air felt wrong from that side. I realized why a second later. It wasn't filled with magic.
I dismounted and went to the water's edge. Achila wandered upstream a bit to grab a drink. Sitting down on a rock, I pulled off one shoe.
These boots were Alexander McQueen with a studded cap-toe. They'd been in a shipping box yesterday instead of on my feet when they could've done me good in front of Erwen and Ruith. The shoes, along with a good portion of my wardrobe, had arrived from the Netherlands a couple of days ago. But I'd left the boxes be, not thinking I'd need any of my designer wares as I began my training.
With my bum on the cool rock, and the shoe and sock off my foot, I dipped my toes into the water. The waters were cold, but there was a buzzing warmth flowing in the current.
Magic.
I felt the energy soak in between my toes and caress my instep. It felt so good I wanted the full effect with both feet. Before I could reach to take off the second boot, something tickled my bare foot.
I peered down into the water expecting to see a fish. Instead, I saw a pair of opaque eyeballs staring back at me. Long lashes blinked, touching pale white cheekbones. I jerked back, yanking my foot out of the water and coming into a crouch on the rock.
A young woman with white hair emerged from the water. As her face broke the surface, the droplets of water raced off her skin like tiny beads, leaving her face and hair completely dry. She wore a nightgown, so translucent that if I stared, I could make out the outline of B-cup, pink-tipped breasts.
Her bare feet tread the water as she rested her pale arms on the rocks and grinned at me. "Hello, Magda's daughter."
I took a deep breath as my heart settled. "Hello, Viviane."
"You shouldn't put your bare feet in these waters. There a
re many magical creatures swimming about. Many who would view human toes as a delicacy, especially witch toes. When you wiggle your toes, it looks like a meal."
Viviane spoke matter of factually. She cocked her head to the side and eyed my bare feet. Her tongue peeked out from between her lips and licked at the corner of her mouth.
"Duly noted," I said, pulling my foot underneath me and scooting farther away from the water's edge.
Viviane was the fabled Lady of the Lake. But she looked like an overgrown kid. Her eyes were bright, like a cat when it flashed you in the night. Her gaze broke from my foot and stared at my one discarded boot with fixed concentration.
"Why are you out here alone?" she asked.
"I wanted some peace and quiet."
"Hmmm. I've noticed the only people who want peace and quiet are the ones who don't have any friends."
"I have friends." I plopped down on my butt.
Viviane nodded, her cat-bright eyes watching as I put my sock and then my boot back on.
"Like the Immortal?"
"Yes," I said, giving my boot a tug until my heel snapped into place. "Nia is my best friend."
"Where is she?"
"I…" I actually had no idea. She hadn't called since she'd left me here to recover. That was a couple of weeks ago now. "She's not here at the moment. But she'll be back… soon."
Viviane nodded again. Her claw-like fingers tapping a rhythm on the rock. "Why aren't you with the knights? They didn't invite you? They never invite me anywhere."
I huffed out a breath. I was beginning to understand why she was short on invites.
"The only time they ever talk to me is when they need a water transport." Her fingers inched closer and closer towards my boot. She extended her index finger and ran it lightly over the leather of my shoe.
"They're off looking for the Spear of Destiny," I said.
"I know." She added a second finger to her foot-fetish exploration. "They're looking in the wrong place."
"How do you know that?"
"Lord Merlin isn't in Mesopotamia."
That word took me a moment to discern. Mesopotamia was an old world term. She meant the Middle East, where Arthur and the knights had gone to look for Merlin. I cocked my head as I looked down at Viviane. She was now fingering the steel toe of my boot.
"Where is he?" I asked. "Where's Merlin?"
"I'll tell you, daughter of Magda." A slow smile spread across her face. "For a price."
Even though my toes were no longer in the water, I felt like I'd been hooked by a sea creature. Too bad for this nymph that I often bit back. "You don't know where the spear is."
Viviane withdrew her hand and it splashed in the water. Her face was the petulant pout of a toddler being denied her favorite toy. "I know exactly where it is. The knights overlooked it, just like they overlooked me, just like they overlook you."
"They haven't overlooked me. They're just making me jump through hoops like some circus freak."
I looked down at the woman in the water with feet that didn't work and bit my tongue at the remark. She didn't seem to notice. Or she did and didn't care.
"You're going to pass all of their tests, daughter of Magda, because you are the rightful heir to the seat of Galahad. You found the Holy Grail, just as it was prophesied of Galahad, the first of his name. That seat should be yours."
I'd spent a good deal of my life around con artists. Most of them had been my lovers. It's not like I didn't see through their lies. I was just turned on by a silver-tongued devil. Those types of guys had a certain set of skills I appreciated in the bedroom. But I was usually the one stealing out in the middle of the night before he had a chance to work me over outside of the sheets. So I knew when I was being manipulated.
"I can help you take your grandfather's seat," said Viviane. "If you bring them the spear, they can't deny you that seat."
I studied her, but I couldn't work out her angle. "What do you want?"
"Your boots." She didn't miss a beat. She didn't stutter. She didn't sway.
I looked down at my designer boots. They were actually Nia's but I'd snuck them out of her suitcase and into mine at some point. They were her favorites, which meant she had to come back for them.
"If I give you these boots, you'll tell me where the spear is?"
"If you give me the boots, I'll take you to the spear myself. But when we get there you must prick my feet with the blade."
I stood up. My booted foot anchored me to the wet rock. I'd seen that spear make my Immortal friend bleed. I'd watched it end the life of another of her kind. It had incapacitated a powerful wizard. Who knows? Merlin might be dead because of it. Did Viviane have a death wish? As though she read my mind, she answered.
"It is true, the spear killed an Immortal. It also brought on the death of a prophet. That means it's powerful enough to break this curse that was set upon my legs. It will allow me to walk."
"Curse?"
"My father was human," Viviane said simply. "He was afraid of what I was and so he tossed me into the lake. But not before having druid priestesses bind me with their runes."
I gulped. At least I'd been loved by both of my parents. It was just my father's family that had rejected me and sent me to hell, better known as boarding school. And now I was here with my mother's family. They weren't treating me badly, at least not in light of Viviane's past. Maybe I was being too harsh on them?
"Okay," I said. "Why don't I go and get Gawain-"
"No. No knights. It has to be only us."
"Why?"
"You want that seat? When you find the spear it has to be your victory. Men always take the credit."
She had a point there.
"Just you and me," she said. "We'll leave at midnight. Deal?"
Chapter Ten
Arriving back at the castle, I stabled Achila. It was well after lunch as I entered the back door. The dining hall was empty and cleaned. Even though people had their own homes and fully functioning kitchens, everyone still liked to eat together for all meals. It was strange, like an American Thanksgiving three times a day. Except there weren't many arguments. Other than Morgan condescending any and everything Arthur said.
I stomped the muck from my ride off my boots and padded down the hall to the kitchen. I'd managed to not only keep my toes but also my boots after my run-in with the water witch. It was weird that someone who'd never walked or worn any shoes had a shoe fetish. But I guess we all want something outside of our reach. Or in Viviane's case, outside her step.
I didn't know if I was headed back to the waters to meet her at midnight. I didn't know if I would stay here in Camelot through the week. All I knew was that I was hungry.
I ducked into the kitchen expecting to find Morgan brewing another experiment and Gwin watching over her sister's shoulder in disdainful support. Today, Igraine stood behind a stove pinching herbs and tossing them into a pot. The lunch dishes had been cleared and it looked as though she was at work on dinner.
Igraine was the oldest person in town. I'd never asked exactly how old she was, but I knew she was pushing a millennium. She looked like she was in her eighties with her hair faded to a vibrant silver. The wrinkles around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth were wizened. But she was spry, likely from the magic flowing in her veins and living on a ley line all her life. I doubted she'd ever been out of the city.
Her magic was tied to this place. Literally. Along with Gwin and Morgan, she kept up the protective charm over the castle that hid its splendor from human eyes and made it look dilapidated.
Though her magical soul was tied to the lands, I knew that she could leave. Gwin traveled with the knights, opening ley lines and tending to wounded witches. But if Gwin left permanently, it would weaken the charm. Unless another witch stepped up.
"I saved you a plate, dear girl." Igraine pointed a crooked finger at a covered plate on the long, wooden table.
Igraine was also clairvoyant. She could see past events and the fut
ure. I knew that some of her visions took a toll on her as they could be a harbinger of bad times. She'd told my friend Nia something bad, but Nia had kept tight-lipped about it.
I sat down at the table and reached for the covering.
"Ahah," said Igraine. "Use your magic."
I blew out a breath, like a child who was told they had to recite their multiplication tables before they could have dessert. I wasn't good at controlling my magic. So far I'd figured out that I could get a burst of energy when I got worked up.
I was exhausted from my ride. But I did as I was told. I concentrated, focusing on lifting the lid from the platter.
Nothing happened.
I tried the trick I'd used in the jousting field and pictured Geraint's face on the metal of the lid. Not a budge or even a rattle.
I pictured Gawain's face as he held up his hands in a stopping motion when I'd made my advances. A chill raced through my fingertips and I clenched my hands into fists. But still, the power didn't transfer to the metal dome.
"You're focusing outward, my dear. The magic is inside you."
What did that even mean? My stomach grumbled in impatience. My temper flared. I shut my eyes.
Behind my eyelids, I saw a flicker. It was the tiniest flame on a cold night. I stretched my hands towards it. The faint heat licked at my fingertips. I stepped closer, intending to grab the flame in the palm of my hands.
Power surged through me. My eyes jerked open. The lid flew up to the ceiling in a loud clang. Then it clattered down on the ground, coming to lie flat now that the dome had become a platter.
I'd never been subtle or measured with anything in my life. It made sense that my magic was loud too. I turned an apologetic face to Igraine.
"You got it off. That was the goal." Her face was filled with maternal pride and it warmed me from the outside in.
I took a bite of the warm dish. The spices in it reminded me of something my mother used to make when I was a child. I didn't know exactly what it was, but it brought flashes of memories back as I swallowed.