Morgan had always known she was Vivienne’s heir, but being immortal, she didn’t expect to ever actually get the job.
Of course, she never expected to have Lance either.
Her life was almost perfect. Except she knew it was like balancing glass bubbles on the eye of a needle. In moments, everything would shatter.
She used her new magick first to reach out for Vivienne. Vivienne had always been like a mother to her and Morgan had to know that she was okay.
Morgan was relieved to sense that she was. Then she reached out to sense Lance.
He wasn’t okay. He was afraid for Gwen, afraid of hurting Morgan, and afraid of facing Arthur. She stopped walking. If she didn’t go back The Witch’s Brew, she could pretend Lance was hers for just a few moments longer. She could float on this cloud of all the impossible, beautiful things.
Morgan was a realist and that set her feet back in motion toward the Brew. Toward Lance.
And toward the end of her happiness.
She opened the door and watched the play of expressions on his face that ran the gamut from surprise to concern.
Lance was Avalon born, of course he’d recognize the magick of the Lady of the Lake.
“Vivenne, my mother, is she…”
“I don’t know how it happened. I need to talk to her, but my magick tells me she’s okay.”
His jaw flexed. “You wear it well.”
“Thank you.” The silence after she spoke was awkward and heavy. Morgan was used to being the one who stood quiet and disapproving, making everyone around her squirm. Instead, she was the one standing here, palms itchy, and a million words on her tongue, but not given breath.
“I can’t do this, Morgan.” He blurted.
Yes, he gave voice to all the doubts that pounded in her head like a bass drum.
“I know.” Her voice didn’t reverberate with all the authority of Avalon, it was a choked whisper, like that of a woman with a broken heart.
“It’s not you.”
“Isn’t it?” She swallowed, choking down all of her emotion. She’d could puke it up later where he wouldn’t see her crying. “But it’s okay. We both knew this was temporary.”
“I still want you, I want to be with you, Morgan. But… my mother destroyed me. Destroyed Arthur. Gwen. Camelot. And for what? Because she was Lady of the Lake? I just… I can’t.”
Morgan lifted her chin. The noble Lancelot would never ask her to abdicate her power, not in so many words. But that’s what he was doing. “No one asked you to.”
“Aren’t you? Standing there with that well of pain in your eyes?”
“Please.” She stiffened her spine and pulled down the cloak of her power so he couldn’t see her soft, aching places. “I’ve lived my life in service the same as you, Lance. I already told you I don’t need a knight in shining armor. I am the Lady of the Lake. I would never give that up for a man. Even a man like you.” Morgan meant to stop there, she did. But the words kept coming. “And that’s what you do, isn’t it? For the longest time, I thought this whole mess was Gwen’s fault. I told her before you even slept together that if she made a man betray his vows, he’d resent her. But it wasn’t just her. You need the woman in your life to give up everything for you. Guinevere was a queen. But you weren’t happy until she had nothing but you. Then you left her. Is that because of Vivienne? Poor little Lancelot never felt as loved as Avalon so he has to break women because of his mommy issues. Well, you may have broken Vivienne’s heart, you have broken Guinevere’s but you will not break me.” Lightning crackled at her fingertips.
“You’re right.” He nodded slowly. “The three of you are all the same. I, like your own son, was born only to serve Avalon,” he spat. “My mother put Avalon first, Gwen put Lyonesse first, then Arthur, then Camelot, there was always something more important than me. And now you too. I’m sick of serving.”
“Lance, I don’t think you’ve ever served anyone but yourself. Everything you’ve done has been to feed your own needs.”
“And what about Avalon?” he roared.
It wasn’t the sound, or the violence that made Morgan flinch, but his pain.
“What about it?” she managed, her calm tone masking the tide of emotions that swelled inside of her.
“What does Avalon serve? All of this sacrifice, all of this pain, and what is it for? The delusion of women with magick in their blood? A place to put the blame when you do things, horrible things, so you don’t have to feel guilty. My mother brought down Camelot because she wanted to. Not for anything higher purpose than her own wants. Because she loved Arthur.”
“No.” Vivienne would never…
“Ask her. How else do you think I got Guinevere on the island and her immortality? I threatened to tell him.”
“Even if Vivienne did what you say, that doesn’t absolve you of your sin, Lance. No matter what anyone else did, you still chose your own actions.”
“I suppose I did. Even that time I fucked Elaine because I thought she was Guinevere. No one else had any hand in that but me, huh? You witches and your damned magick.” His face curled in snarls and pain.
“I don’t deny my part in that. I never have.” She exhaled slowly, using the pause to gather her strength. “I’m sorry you’re still so angry with me.” Her apology seemed to deflate him. “I’m sorry if my new position is unacceptable to you and I’m sorry that I won’t give it up.” She reached out to touch his face, but he jerked away like he’d been burned. “I do love you, Lance. But I knew you would never love me from the first time my stupid heart fluttered when you smiled at me.”
He closed his eyes, but she didn’t try to touch him again.
“And I definitely know it now, because when you love someone, you don’t ask them to change. You’re hurt, and I’m—” She didn’t want to admit her heart had shattered in her chest. He didn’t need to know that. Morgan had broken enough of her own rules by telling him that she loved him. “We both knew this would end. It doesn’t have to end badly, Lance.”
“Morgan—” She could hear the shame in his voice.
“We’ll forget these few days ever happened, okay?” Morgan would never, ever forget them. Not even if she dug the memories out of her head with a spoon.
“I’m glad it’s going to be that easy for you.”
Part of her wanted to blurt her confession again, but she couldn’t give him any more ammo to use against her. He just didn’t like that she’d be able to move on without him. No one liked to hear that.
She didn’t know what else to say to him, so she said, “You can stay in the guest room as long as you like.”
“Really, Morgan? You can just shut it off?”
“What do you want me to do?” she cried. “You want me to break because you don’t want to fuck me anymore? That’s never going to happen.” But it was, right now, everything in her that could crack, break, or shatter was being ground to ash and dust.
“I just want to know I wasn’t the only one who felt something. That it was real.”
“It was real, Lance.”
“Gwen said something to me the night I left. She said I was no knight in shining armor. I was a douchebag in tinfoil. I think she’s right.”
Lance walked past her, careful not to touch her.
And whatever had lived and breathed between them left with him.
For all of Morgan’s posturing, she was broken. She wanted Vivienne. Her wisdom, her strength, her guidance. Morgan could be Lady of the Lake, but she still needed the only mother figure she’d ever known.
She transported herself to Vivienne’s cottage and saw Vivienne laughing with Hector. She was sitting on a fallen tree, and the knight’s reposed position, back against the trunk spoke of an intimacy Morgan had so recently lost. Her face flushed, her eyes bright. Yes, Vivienne was much more than okay. Shedding the mantle of the Lady of the Lake seemed to bring her to vibrant life.
Vivienne looked up and the flush on her cheeks disappeared. Knowledge i
nfused the other woman and she held her arms open.
Morgan didn’t care that Hector was there, didn’t care that he’d see her break, she didn’t care about anything but the comfort and safety Vivienne offered.
Morgan melted into a puddle, her head in Vivienne’s lap and her arms wrapped around her waist.
“Should I kill someone for you?” Hector offered helpfully.
Vivienne spoke softly. “Don’t kill him. He’s my son after all. Give us about an hour and then bring him here.”
“As you wish.”
That was when the floodgates opened and Morgan cried.
She hadn’t cried since Mordred was born and she knew what pain and suffering lay in store for him.
Her tears were hot and acidic, they burned down her face, but they did nothing to assuage the ache inside of her. Morgan didn’t know anything could hurt like this.
Vivienne smoothed her hand over her hair and down her back and crooned soft words to her.
“Let it out, little one. It’s all going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she hiccupped. Damn it, she couldn’t stop saying it, worse, she couldn’t stop feeling it.
“You’re human, Morgan. You’re allowed to have feelings.”
“I knew he wouldn’t love me, I knew, and I did it anyway.” She promised herself she wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t be this…
“I know.” Vivienne stroked her hair until the shuddering stopped and the tidal wave of tears had dried.
Vivienne’s hands were cool on her heated face as she smoothed her fingers over her forehead and cheeks. The steady, gentle rhythm and Vivienne’s quiet song in her head was what finally helped her find her center and let her breathe again.
It always had. When they’d come for her, Morgan hadn’t wanted to leave her village, her mother. But Vivienne had extended her hand and upon taking it, Morgan felt like she finally belonged.
She sniffed, trying to dismiss the storm of emotion. “My first act of Lady of the Lake was to sob into your dress like a child.”
“Actually, you brought a storm to Avalon. It’s been so long since I’ve seen one.”
The clouds overhead were dark and angry, Morgan’s pain having manifested in thunder, lightning, and when fat drops began to fall, Vivienne laughed.
“I’m screwing everything up.”
“Not at all, Morgan. Things are changing. Maybe with me, it was only allowed to rain after dark. With you, it can be anything you wish. If I can offer you one piece of advice, it would be to remember you are not Avalon.”
“But you always said…”
“I was wrong. And there’s a lot for me to fix, my girl. Starting with my idiot son.” She sighed. “After my idiot self, of course.”
Morgan dropped her head back into Vivienne’s lap, the rain falling everywhere but on them.
“You don’t have to do anything to Lance. He’s hurting too.”
“He’s been fighting this so long. He was always supposed to end up with you.” Vivienne’s hand paused mid-stroke. “I think that’s my fault.”
Morgan looked up at her. “Why? Because of what Lance said? That you brought Camelot down because you wanted Arthur?”
Vivienne nodded her head, a silent confession.
For some reason, this calmed Morgan and she sat up, taking Vivienne’s hand in her own. “I know you, Vivienne. If you wanted Arthur, you wouldn’t have felled a kingdom just to have him. Even if you’ve convinced yourself that you did. Mortal society rules have never applied to us. You were the damn Lady of the Lake and if you wanted a king, you’d have him.”
Vivienne’s expression warmed further. “Couldn’t the same be said of you and my son?”
“That’s different.”
“Isn’t it always?” Vivienne said kindly.
“I love him, Vivienne. I always have. I think I always will.”
“That is as it should be. I know he loves you. He was infatuated with Gwen for so long. He never really loved her.” Vivienne sighed. “Oh, I guess he did, but in the way a boy loves a girl. Infatuation. That first puppy love is what they call it now. But love of a man for a woman? That’s all yours, Morgan. I raised my son to be certain things. Good and bad, because there is both in all of us. But he can’t accept that you have more power than he does. It makes him feel useless.”
“I can’t be what I’m not.”
“And he better not ask you to, either. But Morgan, when he figures it out, are you still going to want him? I don’t want either of you to hurt this way.”
“Yes.” Morgan nodded emphatically. “I’ve never wanted anyone more.”
“And that’s why you won’t enchant him and take him. That’s why I wouldn’t have done that to Arthur.”
“No, and you wouldn’t have crushed him either.”
“So much for all the wicked witch theories, eh?” Vivienne eyed her knowingly.
“Yeah, well, I have a rep and street cred I need to keep.”
“Now, you’re the Lady of the Lake. You don’t need any street cred.”
“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Morgan sniffed.
“I suppose we are.”
“So tell me about Hector.”
Vivienne’s cheeks colored. “I. um. Well, he was on my personal guard. And I used him as he was intended.”
“He’s more to you than that, Vivienne.”
“He’s Lance’s best friend, for goddess’s sake. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Falling in love.” Then Morgan remembered that Vivienne didn’t know Aphrodite was on the island. Well, she would just keep that to herself. Vivienne would automatically assume anything that Hector felt for her wouldn’t be real. Aphrodite would never do that. As pissed off as Aphrodite was about Vivienne using love as a curse, she wouldn’t turn around and do the same thing.
Plus, Aphrodite was her friend and she knew that Morgan loved Vivienne like a mother.
“That’s just stupid, now, isn’t it?” Vivienne whispered. “I shouldn’t fall in love with a boy.”
“He’s not a boy, Vivienne.”
“I guess I know that. I suppose it’s my turn to look to the Lady of the Lake for her wisdom. Will you give us your blessing, Morgan?”
Morgan thought she was going to cry all over again. Next thing she knew, she’d be hanging out with Gwen, shoe-shopping and eating gelato. All decidedly un-Morgan like girly things. It was like an infection.
“Of course.” She drew Vivienne in and Morgan brushed her lips across her forehead to mimic the blessing of the goddess and spoke, “May all of the bounty and blessings of Avalon follow you both for all of your days.” Morgan was inspired to add a wish of her own. “And when he says he loves you, I wish you the courage to admit that you love him not only to him, but to yourself.”
Vivienne colored again and glanced down at her hands. “You’re going to be an excellent Lady.”
Morgan’s heart was still broken, and deep down inside part of her still felt like the world was ending. But seeing to her duties as Lady of Lake filled something blank and empty. It warmed her.
Even if Lance never loved her, she knew what it was to love. To surrender herself. And she realized that’s what Avalon had been waiting on for both her and Vivienne.
24
APHRODITE
A phrodite wasn’t sure about this whole turning into a dragon thing. She rather liked her skin, sans scales, and she was worried it was going to give her hairs on her chin. She’d always heard wise dragons had beards, and Aphrodite liked to think of herself as wise, but she’d rather remain beardless.
But, she supposed she could try it. She was on vacation after all. If she screwed it up too badly, Hera could fix it for her.
She closed her eyes and imagined the prettiest dragon she could. When she opened her eyes, the rest of the world had gotten a lot bigger.
That couldn’t be good.
Aphrodite looked down at herself.
She was pink.
And sp
arkly.
Not necessarily a bad thing. Her scales had a kind of abalone shimmer. She could hang with that.
She took a step forward and fell flat, snout first into the sand.
Sand up her nose was almost as bad as sand in her bits. Almost. The worst tickle made her snout twitch and she shook her head, trying to dislodge the tiny granules of sand.
No luck.
She sneezed, blowing sand, and fire out of her nose.
Something popped in her back.
Aphrodite decided she was much too old for this kind of nonsense.
“Well, who are you?” A deep voice rumbled with mirth.
She tried to turn her head, but found she couldn’t. Her stupid wing had unfurled and gotten caught on her horns when she sneezed.
This was so humiliating.
Aphrodite found herself scooped up by warm hands that gently untangled her from her own wing. She blinked owlishly and found herself staring up at Aeron.
Hey, put me down. But instead, only a faint mewling sound came out of her snout.
“Such a lovely little hatchling, aren’t you?” He scratched under her chin as he cooed at her.
Oh please, Zeus, don’t let it be hairy, she begged as she tilted into the scratch. It really was very nice. Finally, she managed another sound besides the mewling. It was only a purr, but it was better than mewling.
She sighed, and fire shot out of her nostrils again, singing his fingers.
“Aphrodite?” He held her up above his head. “I’d recognize that singe anywhere. What did you do?”
She shrugged her shoulders and blinked.
“If you were trying to entice me, not so much. I’m not on the playground extraction team, if you know what I mean.”
Aphrodite huffed and singed him again.
“Be nice, or I won’t help you change back.”
But even as he spoke, her body was once again her own and her arms were wrapped around his neck. “It was an accident.”
“That was for my benefit, though, wasn’t it? Come on, admit it.”
“So what if it was?” She shifted against him.
“Did Morgan tell you to do it? I’m going to get that witch. Paybacks are a—”
Ambrosia Lane 1-3: Saranna DeWylde Page 43