“You’re telling me? Goddess, Morgan. I’ve stewed and frothed and hated you for so long because you always had what I wanted.”
Morgan was sure she was going to fall over dead if Gwen kept talking. “Me? You married Arthur. You married Lance. You were always perfect little Guinevere who had to be protected, indulged—”
“And it was hell. I’d much rather have been a woman that men feared. I’d rather have been seen as strong, capable and in charge of my own destiny. You and Vivienne wrought kingdoms, crowned kings, and wrote history. What was I, but a well-born broodmare who couldn’t even produce an heir?”
Something welled in Morgan that she didn’t want to name. She always knew she was right, but somehow, it didn’t feel good to be right. Damn. She’d fantasized about rubbing that in Gwen’s face and now, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want Gwen to hurt any more than she already had.
That was an irritating development. Yes, very much like a rash.
“We destroyed kingdoms, too. We destroyed lives and hurt people.” Morgan gestured, as if she could physically deflect those words before they made impact.
“So did I.” Gwen looked down at her hands. “I destroyed two men who were the best that humanity had to offer. Look what I did to them, all because I needed to be loved. At least you were trying to change the world. I was only trying to change my world.”
Empathy for the Bitch Queen was the last thing Morgan ever wanted to feel. It was even worse, like chigger bites in a no-no place, than admitting she was in love with Lance.
“Look, it’s not for me to forgive you.” She sighed. “Or judge you. The powers that be do as they will and their reasons are their own. Oftentimes, it’s not meant for us to know. Arthur and Lance both played their own parts in what happened. Own what you did, but you can’t take the blame for everything.”
“I really want to hug you, but I don’t want you to turn me into a frog.” Gwen bit her lip.
“Fuck it.” Morgan hugged her tight.
And the world didn’t explode. Fancy that.
A knock echoed through the door. “It’s too quiet in there. You guys are either killing each other, or making out.” In a quieter voice he said, “If you’re making out, I want to watch.”
Morgan and Gwen jerked apart and Gwen tittered a high-pitched giggle.
“Yeah. The best humanity has to offer and he wants to know if we’re making out.” Morgan snorted.
“That’s because I told him about my handmaiden, Brigid.”
Morgan almost choked. “Excuse me?”
Gwen shrugged. “It was her duty to see to all of my needs. Marrying a warlord, as Arthur was at the time of our marriage, meant he’d be gone on campaign. A lot. Lance really liked those stories.” She pursed her lips. “Once upon a time, anyway.”
It occurred to Morgan, for the first time, that Guinevere was a flesh and blood woman with wants, needs, and hopes. That maybe, just maybe, even she was allowed to make mistakes, too.
Morgan hated learning these kinds of lessons. It meant all that time she’d spent hating her had been wasted. Of course, she knew it would be, but at the time, she wasn’t feeling very enlightened.
Words she hadn’t wanted to say bubbled up like a crap stew and they tasted just as horrible, but out they came anyway. “I’m sorry, Gwen.”
“For what?”
“For being jealous of you, too. For wishing bad things on you and it seems like your plate was already really full.”
“I’m coming in.” Lance growled.
The wicked witch in her was tempted to lock the door and wait for him to try to break it down and then open it and watch him sprawl ass over teacakes into the room. It would be funny, but he sounded genuinely concerned. So she opened the door.
“Who are you worried about? Me or her?”
His eyes were wide, and it was clear from the look on his face that he wasn’t sure what the right answer was.
“Uh, both of you.”
“Really?” Morgan put a hand on her hip.
“No, it was me. But only because he was sure you’d turn me into a frog.”
“That’s the third reference to a frog. I have never, in my life, turned anyone into a frog.” Morgan was indignant.
“I seem to recall that knight who got a little too handsy,” Guinevere began.
“I didn’t turn him into a frog. It was a milking cow to see how he liked having his “teats” yanked on all the time. But no, it was never a frog.”
“That’s exactly what I meant, Morgan. He’s not worried about you because you’re powerful.”
“She’s a sorceress. I’d worry about me if I pissed her off.” Lance was emphatic.
Morgan didn’t like that at all. She didn’t want him to fear her. It made her think that he was afraid of her—that maybe what was happening between them now was because he’d started something he didn’t know how to end.
Occam’s Razor said that the simplest answer was usually the right one. How likely was it that Lancelot du Lac, the knight in literal shining armor had always had a secret tendre for the court witch, centuries he’d wanted her, fantasized about her, but never had the courage to tell her? This man who slayed dragons? Or maybe, he’d just gotten drunk after splitting with his wife and Morgan had been warm and willing. But now he didn’t know how to—
Hell. If he’d actually slayed a dragon he shouldn’t be afraid of her.
But that little niggling voice of doubt wouldn’t shut its stupid cakehole.
“Well, obviously everything is fine. Gwen is in one, human piece. I’m going to take her down to see Aphrodite.”
Gwen looked back and forth between them, and said, “I’ll just wait for you outside.” She put her hand on Lance’s shoulder, squeezed and walked out.
“What the hell was that? She went from telling me to burn in hell to being my wingman.” His shook his head, disbelief written on his features. “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe she was worried I’d turn you into a frog,” she sneered.
“Morgan, come on. You know I’m not afraid of you. I know you two don’t like each other and even though Gwen and I aren’t together anymore, she doesn’t deserve warts or any other magickal plague.”
Morgan was torn. Part of her applauded that he was still Gwen’s champion, but the selfish part of her, the one where that little voice resided, it wondered if there would ever be a day when he wasn’t the Queen’s Champion.
Even as she wondered, she knew the answer. She’d known it before they started this. Lancelot du Lac would never be Morgan’s. He’d always belong to something brighter, something more pure. Something good.
“We talked. She’s fine. I’m fine, too, in case you were worried.”
“Morgan, you’d crush her like a bug. Evil Enchantresses don’t need champions.” Lance cocked his head to the side and flashed her a grin.
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips. She’d been doing that so often lately, she wondered if it was going to give her wrinkles. “You think we don’t? Maybe we don’t need them, but maybe we want them.”
The grin melted off his face. “Morgan, if you want something from me, you need to just tell me what it is.” Lance was so earnest, as always.
But Morgan found she couldn’t answer him. Her pride wouldn’t let her because it knew how this would go down. He would tell her all the things he couldn’t give her, he’d apologize for not being able to love her—no. She would never reach so high he’d have to slap her hand.
“No, I don’t want anything from you.” She grinned. “Well, maybe that’s not the whole truth. I want your cock.”
“You can have that as many times as you’ll put up with it.” Lance grabbed her and pulled her close.
They were back in comfortable territory now, no feelings, no softer things. Just sex. Just the friction between their bodies—the all-consuming heat that incinerated them both.
“When I get back?” She rubbed her cheek against his, kneaded her nails lightly into his
shoulders.
“Any time you want, Wicked Witch.”
The evidence of his arousal was hard against her belly and she imagined having him take her right there. Again, that bad part of her, it liked that he’d fuck her while his ex-wife was waiting.
But Gwen had asked her for help and Morgan was more than a witch, a sorceress, or any of the other names that they called her. She was a servant of Avalon. When its denizens were in need, it was up to Vivienne and Morgan to answer their call as best they could.
“I’ll be back soon.” She brushed her lips over his.
“Try not to drown her on the way, okay?”
His concern irritated her like steel wool panties. “Lance, again, with the small words so you can understand. Gwen came to me for help. I’m sort of magickally bound to help her. It’s in my job description, but don’t let that get out or I’ll have all manner of people up my broomstick about stupid shit they could fix themselves. Gwen can’t fix this herself. And she’s perfectly—” Morgan paused. She didn’t want to lie. “—mostly safe with me,” Morgan corrected.
“I can live with that. Thank you.” Lance kissed the top of her head like she’d just granted him some marvelous boon. “You’re so stiff and your skin is so hot. You’re angry with me,” he said.
Oh, she so didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or, ever. “This whole conversation is just… can we not do it?”
“Whatever you want, Morgan. Will you tell me one thing, though? What happened that Gwen wants you to fix?”
Morgan looked at him now not with the eyes of a woman watching her lover, but with the eyes of power granted to her by Avalon. He was in pain, obviously. She didn’t need to look with any special power to see that. But his aura was tinged with guilt.
Morgan sighed heavily before she spoke. “It’s not you, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s okay that’s it over. She said I could have you, actually. Of course, I don’t know what I’d do with you. Like you said, it’s not like I need a knight in shining armor.” Morgan almost choked on her words. “It’s Arthur.”
Lance looked like he’d been kicked in the balls with his own spurs. “Oh.”
Maybe he still had feelings for Gwen after all. It wouldn’t be unheard of. He’d spent centuries—Morgan clamped down on that little voice and everything selfish that grasped for him. She was Morgan Le Fey, Evil Enchantress, Seductress, Sorceress, and most importantly, the only title that really mattered—servant of Avalon.
“Maybe you should seek him out. Ask his forgiveness. If Gwen can do it, I’m certain a man such as yourself could ask his oldest friend, the brother of his heart, for forgiveness.”
“I don’t deserve it.” He was suddenly grim, his expression a thundercloud.
“Sometimes, when we want things, we have to ask for them whether we deserve them or not.” Morgan did realize that what she said could easily apply to herself, but whereas Lance actually deserved forgiveness, Morgan knew she’d made too many bad choices to ever end up with Happily Ever After.
“You’re pretty profound for an Evil Enchantress.” His tone was quiet, contemplative.
“Yeah, well, I’d have to be half-retarded not to have learned a little something about human nature after all years meddling in affairs of men.”
“You say that like you’re not human, Morgan. Don’t buy into your own fanfare.” He sounded like an oracle handing down a prophecy. And again, that earnest goodness that flared inside of him practically burned her.
“But I’m not. I’m fey, and any part of me that was human died a long time ago when I was consecrated to Avalon. Don’t forget, I am an Evil Enchantress.” Morgan said that as much to remind him as herself. “Gwen is waiting. I have to go.”
“Hurry back, witch. Otherwise, I might miss you.”
Morgan forced a smile to her face and went outside to meet Gwen without looking back at the white knight who was everything she wanted, but everything she knew she could never have.
“Are you okay?” Gwen asked as soon as she saw her face.
Morgan would have to work on her game face. She couldn’t have all of her gushy feelings spread all over face like so much pudding. “Yeah, fine. Lance was worried I was going to drown you, but I assured him you’d survive.”
“That was gallant of him. I guess distance does engender a certain fondness.”
Morgan cut her eyes to the other women. “What do you mean?”
“Well, just the other day he was telling me he’d like me better if I could learn to talk with my mouth closed. I think if you would’ve showed up with an offer to drown me, he would’ve paid you to make it happen.”
Morgan couldn’t help the tiny giggle that started in the back of her throat like an itch. “I guess the grass is always greener.”
“Yeah, have you heard him eat, yet? He sounds like a truffling pig. The day we… ending things…” she paused. “I really considered how hard I’d have to hit him so the popcorn he was chomping on would come out of his nose.”
She snorted and the giggle erupted into a fit of full blown laughter.
Yes, the apocalypse was surely nigh when Guinevere du Lac and Morgan Le Fey could be seen wandering down to the resort together, their combined laughter sounding much like the honking of demented geese.
19
APHRODITE
Y es, Aphrodite decided the world was definitely on its last legs. First, Aeron had turned down sex with her and now, Morgan and Guinevere du Lac were standing at her door.
Together.
Morgan didn’t stink of any sort of foul curse, but Aphrodite had been fooled before.
She opened the door wide and allowed them to come inside the small, but luxurious hut.
Gwen seemed very nervous. She kept wringing her hands and biting her lip. Aphrodite supposed if she were in the former queen’s position—being alone with a witch who hated her and a goddess who happened to be one of said witch’s besties, and having felt repeatedly wronged by Love—yeah, it would be uncomfortable to say the least.
Aphrodite put on her benign goddess face. “Guinevere du Lac, what is it you wish to ask of Love?”
She looked to Morgan and waited for Morgan to nod before answering. Well, that was definitely an interesting development—Guinevere looking for Morgan’s approval before speaking.
“I was going to say that I’m not asking this for myself, but I suppose I am.” She exhaled heavily.
“It’s okay to ask for yourself. Did someone tell you it wasn’t?”
“Love isn’t supposed to be selfish,” Guinevere said.
“Sometimes, it is. It’s many things. Go on, child.”
“I heard that to stop his pain, you took Hades heart.”
“I did.” Aphrodite studied her for a moment. “Are you asking me to take your heart?”
Gwen closed her eyes and a tear slipped down her cheek. Aphrodite could see now why two great men had ruined themselves for her. She was beautiful, delicate, and oh-so enchanting even in her grief. If Aphrodite wasn’t just as beautiful and enchanting, she might be a bit jealous. “In a sense, I suppose I am. I’m asking you to make it so that Arthur doesn’t remember loving me.”
Aphrodite was curious to know more about Gwen’s motivations, or better yet, what Gwen believed her motivations to be. Aphrodite knew that her request was born of the deepest and truest love. “An interesting request. Why not ask me to make it so he never loved you?”
“That’s where I’m being selfish. Those memories are for me. I want to remember what it was like when he did love me.”
“And punish yourself?” Aphrodite asked.
“It is bittersweet, but I’ll take the bitter if I can still have the sweet.”
Aphrodite could see that she answered honestly and her intentions were not only pure, but rooted in love.
“Why do think Arthur would choose any differently? He’s King of Avalon, he knows I’m on the island and he hasn’t sought me out.”
“Becaus
e he can’t imagine not loving me. He’s always loved me. But now, I see it’s bringing him more pain than anything. I just want to save him. He deserves better.”
“Better than you, or better than his pain?” Aphrodite asked kindly.
“Both,” Guinevere confessed in a quiet voice.
Aphrodite sighed. She reached out and measured their threads of Love and Fate. They were all tangled up and knotted in on each other. What a mess. She saw Morgan’s looped and tied with a little bow amongst the skein, and Aphrodite almost laughed out loud.
“Guinevere, I find your request to be made of a pure heart, but I will not take that from him he wishes to keep. You must tell him what you’ve asked of me and if he comes to me of his own volition, I will do as you’ve asked.”
“Thank you, Aphrodite.”
“Thank you, Guinevere, for not blaming me.”
Guinevere cocked her head to the side. “Why ever would I blame you?”
“When love goes wrong, I’m always at fault. Or so most mortals think.”
“I’m not mortal, anymore. And I screwed everything up all on my own. Lance was a dream that was better left to the unrequited fantasy of a heart that hadn’t been tested. Both of them were ideals and I broke them. Not love. But me. If my love had been true, I wouldn’t have ruined them so I could have what I wanted.”
“Oh honey.” Aphrodite hugged her. “You made some mistakes. We all do. They did, too. You went from one side of the spectrum, to believing you’d done no wrong to believing you’ve done all the wrong. It’s time to stop in the middle.”
“I just want to fix this.” Her face was crumpled with regret.
“Some things can only be fixed with time.” Aphrodite thought about her own situation. “A lot of time.”
“Thank you,” Guinevere said. Then she looked at Morgan. “I already got one hug out of you, I’m not going to push it.”
“Better not. Hugging Morgan Le Fey is like making out with a thistle. You’re lucky you didn’t get some thorns.” Aphrodite grinned.
“Yeah, and uh, you know, don’t tell anyone about that part. I don’t want it getting out,” Morgan grumped.
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