‚Of course, my lady,' he bowed quickly, abandoning a saddle that he was oiling in order to saddle our mounts. My own mare, Celine, was a soft buckskin who had just a little more spirit than the average woman would normally care for. I personally preferred it. A horse that was too docile was just plain boring.
We waited while he readied our mares, watching Arthur’s black charger paw at the floor in his stall and the barn cats hunt for mice, all the while enjoying the freshly-cut hay smell that surrounded us. The scent, combined with saddle oil, was distinctive to this stable and like scents often do, it triggered memories.
I had spent many stolen hours hidden in the hayloft above us with Lucan. The window upstairs swung open and flooded the loft with sunshine, all while providing a nice private alcove for a pair of lovers. My chest twinged as I remembered those carefree days. I briefly wondered if I would ever be carefree again, but Reagan interrupted my self-pitying thoughts.
‚My ladies, your mounts are full of vim and vinegar today,' he warned us as he handed us the reins. ‚They need a good, hard ride. Should I call for escorts?'
Guinevere shook her head. ‚We won’t go far,' she assured him. ‚We just need some fresh air and a good run. We’ll be back shortly.'
‚My lady, are you certain? The King said never to allow you to leave without protection…' Reagan worried, but trailed off when he noticed Guinevere’s face. ‚I’m Courtney Cole 35
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sorry, my lady,' he hastened to add. ‚I do not mean to second guess you. I will see you when you return.'
‚Thank you for your concern,' she told him with a smile. ‚But we will be fine.' He helped us mount and we rode past him into the sunshine. Once we were safely out of the courtyard and beyond the palace walls, Guinevere turned to me with a mischievous grin.
‚I wish I could have told him that we could level an entire army with just one thought, if we had a mind to,' she laughed. ‚The idea that a mere mortal could harm us…' she trailed off and laughed again.
‚Mother,' I warned, ‚As far as anyone is concerned, we are mere mortals right now, remember?'
‚Pftt,' she turned up her nose. I sensed the beginning of a minor display of drama and tensed in preparation. ‚Could a mortal do this?'
She pointed to a nearby rose bush. Every petal on every rose detached from the stem and fluttered into the air, swirling around into a cloud above us before drifting to the ground in the shape of an A. Aphrodite.
‚Mother,' I warned again, then changed tactics. ‚ Guinevere.” She sighed. ‚Fine,' she muttered and motioned toward the A. It shifted into a G.
One lone petal fell out of formation and she glared at it. It quickly fit itself in with the rest.
‚ Guinevere,” I repeated sharply.
She rolled her eyes at me before finally motioning toward the G one more time. The petals flew into an arrow formation and rushed at my head. I ducked and they sailed over me, separating to once again attach themselves to the stems on the rosebush. They rustled in the gentle breeze as if nothing had ever happened.
I glared at my mother, as I tried to soothe my anxious mare.
‚Not funny,' I chastised. ‚What if someone had seen that?'
Guinevere looked around. ‚Like who?'
I had to admit, she had a point. There was no one around for miles. The green hills rolled on like unfurled velvet for acres and acres on one side, while the sea churned against the craggy shore on the other.
‚Like me, perhaps,' a low voice suggested and we both spun around in our saddles.
Mordred was leaning against a nearby tree, lightly holding the leather reins to his own horse in his hand.
‚You were so absorbed in your theatrics that you didn’t hear me approach,' he continued. ‚What are you, pray tell?'
Guinevere spluttered and if the situation wasn’t so serious, I would have laughed.
She was rendered speechless for the first time in as long as I could remember.
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‚Sir Mordred!' she exclaimed. ‚I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was near.'
‚Obviously,' he nodded calmly.
‚It was just a simple parlor trick,' she attempted helplessly. ‚A stupid thing, really…'
He watched her calmly as she attempted to come up with a plausible explanation.
His dark eyes were expressionless. I couldn’t tell if he was frightened by her or intrigued.
‚A parlor trick?' he asked softly. ‚I think not, my queen.'
He tied his mount to the tree and approached us.
‚Are you a witch?' he asked calmly, stopping in front of her. ‚Does the king know? He does seem sympathetic to witchcraft.'
‚The king most certainly does not…' Guinevere stopped and stuck out her chin. ‚I do not owe you an explanation, Sir Mordred,' she announced sweetly. ‚I am the queen. If you have any concerns, you should take them up with my husband, the king.'
‚Mayhap I will,' he replied, his dark eyes glittering. For the first time since he had arrived, I saw an emotion in them. A threat.
Guinevere saw it too and I sighed as I watched her bristle.
It took her two full seconds to leap from her mare and bound to where he was standing. She quickly pinned him to the tree that his horse was tied to, her slender arm braced against his neck. His eyes widened in shock as her goddess strength easily overpowered him.
‚You dare threaten me?' she roared with the fury of Aphrodite. I watched her brown eyes cloud and then shift to silver. Mordred’s face filled with terror, as any mortal’s would.
‚No. I meant no threat,' he stammered. ‚Truly, my queen.'
‚Really?' she purred as she stared into his eyes, her face pushed directly into his.
‚It seemed like you were.'
‚No,' he practically whimpered. ‚I apologize, my lady, if it seemed so. I would never threaten you. You are my queen. I mean you only respect and good wishes.'
There was a pregnant pause as she assessed him, with her arm frozen against his throat. Finally, her expression relaxed.
‚That’s better,' Guinevere murmured calmly, relaxing her hold just a bit. ‚Look into my eyes, Sir Mordred.'
He complied, staring into the silvery depths. I watched in fascination as she hypnotized him with her dulcet voice.
‚You will forget that this ever happened,' she instructed smoothly. ‚You were scouting this area and you came across no one. You never saw me, you never saw Heleyne. Do you understand?'
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Mordred grew limp against the tree as Guinevere’s soothing voice flowed over him like honey. Even the breeze complied with her, dying down to a gentle rustle, the grasses around us bending and swaying soothingly.
‚I never saw you, I never saw Heleyne,' he repeated in a monotone, staring at her blankly.
‚Get on your horse and ride back to the castle,' she instructed. ‚When you see us at dinner tonight, it will be the first time since breakfast that you’ve laid eyes upon us.'
Mordred nodded slowly.
‚Yes, my lady.'
She released him and stepped away, waiting for him to move. He stayed slumped against the tree, his eyes glazed over.
‚Go,' she instructed.
He snapped out of it, bobbing his head toward her before dutifully swinging up onto his horse. He galloped away, never looking back.
Guinevere looked at me, shrugging her thin shoulders. As I watched, her breathing returned to normal, the flush disappeared from her cheeks and the silver faded from her eyes, turning once again to deep brown.
‚Now, where were we?' she asked conversationally.
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Chapter Seven
After leaving Guinevere in her chambers, I wandered aimlessly through the bustling palace. I didn’t know where to begin looking f
or the sword and to be honest, I was preoccupied with leaving my mother alone. She insisted that she only wanted a nap, that using her goddess strength while in her mortal body had exhausted her. I knew that much was true. But I was anxious that she was secretly going to try and steal time with my father. They just couldn’t seem to stay apart.
I sighed. Even though they were very aware of the importance of our quest here and I knew they were completely committed to it, I also knew that my parents sometimes didn’t quite grasp the consequences of their actions. As Olympians, they only answered to Zeus and he was currently missing.
As I rounded a corner and turned into a narrow back hall, I heard whispering coming from a room to my right. My curiosity piqued, I poked my head inside the door. It was a small chapel. An altar stood in the front of the room while a massive stone cross leaned against the wall behind it. The cross was so large and heavy, that if it ever tipped over, it would crush anyone in its path.
Heavy wooden benches created rows and the atmosphere was calm and reverent.
The room was empty but for one person in the front, kneeling at the foot of the cross.
Arthur rested on his knees, his head bowed as he rapidly whispered prayers, a golden crucifix in his large hands.
The light poured in the one window, shining onto his golden curls. Sitting inside that ray of sunshine, he almost seemed angelic. Large and strong, with his sword lying at his side, he appeared as a handsome archangel. His face was creased with worry, however, and his eyes were squeezed tightly closed.
My slippered foot scraped against the stone floor ever so softly as I slipped into the room, but it made enough noise that Arthur heard it. His eyes sprang open and he stood, Excalibur gripped tightly in his hand as he turned.
When he saw me, his expression relaxed and I saw that in addition to worry, he seemed sad as well. His blue eyes were haunted and instantly brought to mind the exchange that I had witnessed between him and Morgan.
It was torturing him. That much was obvious.
‚Heleyne,' he greeted me in surprise. ‚I thought I was alone.'
‚Your highness,' I curtsied. ‚You were. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I apologize.' I started to back out of the room, but he held up his hand.
‚No, stay,' he requested quietly. ‚I could use some company. Please join me.'
His shoulders slumped as he slid into the front pew, as though they held the weight of the world. I instantly felt sorry for him. My nature as the goddess of contentment Courtney Cole 39
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made me more sensitive to the pain of others than the average person, but anyone could see the agony etched on this man’s face. My stomach tightened in response as I padded down the aisle to sit next to him.
‚Your highness, are you alright?' I asked softly, staring into his face. He gazed at the ground in front of us, absently fidgeting with the handle of Excalibur. The rubies embedded within the hilt glittered in the light and threw red spots on the wall next to us.
‚I am not sure,' he admitted finally. ‚I will be, I’m sure, because I always am. But I am tormented by something. I wish to speak to someone, to draw wise counsel from someone, and yet there is no one that I can turn to with this trouble. You cannot imagine how that feels, can you, Heleyne?'
He turned his pained eyes to me and my heart broke, because they were red and watery. He was in pain and there was nothing I could do for him.
‚Your highness… I…' I didn’t know what to say. I decided to break rules of etiquette and picked up his hand, squeezing it softly. He allowed the contact and seemed to draw some comfort in it.
‚You’re bound by oath,' he pondered, staring thoughtfully at my face. ‚I could confide in you and you would be unable to share what I tell you with anyone, not even my wife.'
I nodded silently. It was true. Anyone who had confessed fealty to the king was bound by oath.
‚But I realize how close you are to my wife,' he added, slumping once more, ‚So, I won’t ask you to listen.'
Pain emanated from him and I longed to hug him, to try and absorb some of his sorrow so that he didn’t have to carry it alone, but that was impossible. For a man of great honor, breaking his marriage vows, even unknowingly, was a great sin. I knew his heart was shattered and I knew that I couldn’t alleviate that.
‚What of Merlin?' I asked. ‚Can you not confide in him?'
‚No,' he answered softly. ‚I cannot. Not about this.'
‚Very well,' I replied. ‚Please, your highness. Tell me anything you wish. I can see that you need to unburden. I am loyal to you and I will share what you tell me with no one, not even the queen. I hope that I am able to help you.'
‚Truly?' he asked, appraising me quietly. ‚I do not wish to overburden you.'
‚It will not be a burden,' I answered confidently. ‚I wish to help.'
My words opened a dam. For the next half an hour, King Arthur spilled his heart to me on the front pew of the chapel. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he spoke and more than once, I reached up to wipe them away. He was filled with sadness and I could not fix it. But I could hold his hand and listen.
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‚My soul is sick,' he concluded. ‚I feel physically ill at what I have done and I cannot get over it. It is constantly in my mind, even when I should be thinking of matters of this kingdom. I have wronged my wife so completely. I have gone against nature. I am a monster.'
My heart wrenched in two. How could I not comfort such a man? He was good and kind and loyal. For the Moirae to have played with his fate, to have manipulated it into this twisted situation was just wrong. And I found, in this moment, that I couldn’t comply with it.
‚If you just speak with Guinevere,' I suggested softly, ‚If you just tell her what has happened, I am certain that she will forgive you. This was not your fault. You would never have willingly done such a thing. Guinevere knows your heart, your highness.
She loves you.'
And she did. My mother had a fondness for him as did everyone else who knew him. It was impossible not to.
‚But I cannot,' he answered in resignation. ‚To do so, to admit to Queen Guinevere what has happened, would be to sign my sister’s death warrant. No matter what she has done, I do not think I can do that. I cannot burn her at the stake as a witch. I could not live with myself.'
‚But yet… you cannot live with yourself now, for something that Morgan has done to you?' I raised my eyebrows. ‚My king, you are good and kind. Everything knows this. Your sister, please forgive me for saying so, is using your own traits against you.
She knows that you will not want to harm her, even after she has harmed you.'
‚Knowing of my sister’s manipulative ways does not change my heart,' he replied tiredly. ‚Replacing one wrong with another does not make anything right.'
‚Might for Right, not Might makes Right, yes?' I quoted his own creed back to him.
When he had formed the Roundtable, he decreed to live by a set of rules and one of them was to use his strength for the public, not to use it against them. It was a belief that he lived by.
‚Yes,' he sighed. ‚Might for Right.'
I fell silent, considering his situation. If he admitted what had happened to the queen, if it passed from his lips to her ears, then he would be forced to punish Morgan.
There had to be some way to ease his pain, some way that didn’t add to it. I wracked my brain.
‚What if….' I began, but trailed off.
‚Yes?' he asked, his face so hopeful that I couldn’t resist it.
‚What if I am the one who spoke to the queen on your behalf?' I suggested weakly.
To interfere in such a way was not bright. I knew it even as I spoke, but I couldn’t help it. He was shouldering so much pain already.
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‚I could explain what has happened and
tell her that you long to discuss it with her, but that you cannot. I am sure she will understand and forgive you, and your heart will be unburdened. Your marriage will be cleansed of lies.'
‚You would do that?' he asked, his voice wavering. ‚Truly?'
I nodded, swallowing hard. ‚Yes. Truly. If the queen understands and forgives you, then Morgan cannot extort her will from you. She will have no leverage.'
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