“You must think I’m stupid as well. Of course I knew Lance would save you. If he didn’t, I would have killed him myself.”
“After I burned.”
“Is that really what you think?”
She realized that at the time, it had been. But now? It seemed a traitorous and unworthy thought. “I did.”
“I loved you the only way I knew how. I thought that when I didn’t set you aside because you didn’t give me an heir, that might have made it clear. Maybe I should have told you that I found your special tea that kept you from getting pregnant. That I honored you as my wife and my queen even when I knew you didn’t want to be either.”
“It always seemed like you were so quick to throw me away.” She swallowed. “And I wasn’t worthy of the trust you put in me. Or the power you gave me. But I want to change all that. That’s why I spoke with Aphrodite. I just want to fix it.”
“You can’t fix it, Gwen. If you’re trying to ease your guilt, just stop. Let it go. You can’t change the past, only the future.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. I know I can’t change the past. But I want to change your future. I want you to be happy.” Because I love you.
A knock thundered through the heavy wood of the door.
“I’m not to be disturbed,” Arthur answered.
“Lancelot awaits you in the solarium,” a muffled voice replied.
Gwen was startled to hear his name, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m sure he’s looking for you. He must have come to his senses.” Arthur said quietly, with no judgment in his voice. “You should go to him.”
“Again, you’re so quick to surrender me even now.” She wished he’d just take her in his arms and tell her that he’d never let her go, but again, those were the dreams of a girl. Not a woman grown.
“Must I bleed for you still?” He said raggedly.
“No, you don’t have to bleed, but maybe you could ask me to stay instead of pushing me toward a man who doesn’t love me.”
“I thought when I married you, I wouldn’t have to ask again.”
“Not then. Now. Ask me to stay.” Hope burned wretched and traitorous. This was supposed to be about his feelings, not hers.
“I told you, Gwen. This—” he gestured “—me, this has always been and will always be yours. Choose to stay.” Arthur dressed. “I’m going to meet our guest. You’re welcome to come with me.”
Gwen knew what she wanted to do, she wanted to hide. She didn’t want to see Lance. She’d accepted it was over between them, but to be in a room with Arthur and Lance after everything, after so many years, she thought that she might just explode.
Whatever Lance had come here to do, it didn’t have anything to do with her.
And yet, if it had to do with Arthur, it did.
She needed to show Arthur that she could be his queen, that it was really what she wanted.
Gwen took her time dressing, not in hopes that Lance would be gone by the time that she was done, but to give them a chance to speak without her between them. Because she’d been a wedge that kept them apart.
She smoothed her hair and her dress and for a moment, she wished she had Morgan’s magick to make herself just a little bit presentable.
This is a one time deal, don’t ask again. Morgan’s voice resonated in her head and in that instant, Gwen became a fairy tale princess.
No—she was a queen.
Morgan had outdone herself, dressing her in a white, filmy ball gown and there might have even been glass slippers on her feet.
Glass. Slippers.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the beveled mirror that stood in the corner and for the first time in years, Gwen liked what she saw. Not because her ass had gotten any higher or tighter since that last bowl of gelato.
It hadn’t.
Not because she looked younger and more radiant.
Even though she did.
But because she finally liked the person who dwelled behind those eyes. She finally liked who she saw looking back at her.
And she finally believed that she was enough. That gave her the power and the strength to choose to be with Arthur without him taking away culpability or fitting himself into some mold the stories had made for him when the reality of Arthur was a hundred times better.
She exhaled and tried not to cry. It would mess up her magick makeup. “Thanks, Morgan.” Gwen said aloud and made her way toward the solarium, but paused when she heard Lance’s voice.
“I should have come a long time ago. I’m sorry, Arthur. For everything.”
“Are you here as my friend, my brother, my knight? Why now?”
“Because it’s time. It’s time to own my mistakes and I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“Even though you’ve asked me to?” Arthur’s voice was calm and even, no judgment and no anger. He was always good at that, hiding his feelings. Keeping emotion out of his voice. Maybe too good.
“I’ve learned that I shouldn’t ask for forgiveness with the expectation of receiving it. It’s kind of like love. You don’t love because you expect it in return. You love because you must.”
“And I love you, Lance. As I always have. As I always will,” Arthur replied.
A weight dropped from Gwen’s chest that she didn’t know she carried. She was reminded of his behavior when she was talking to Morgan earlier. Lance said if they were making out, he wanted to watch.
Gwen chose that moment to make her entrance and toss his own words back at him. “It’s too quiet in here. If you’re making out, I get to watch,” she teased.
Her eyes met Arthur’s and it was as if Lance wasn’t even in the room. There was nothing so bright or glorious as the king standing before her.
“My lady.” Arthur bowed.
She held out her hand and he kissed it, the contact sending delicious shivers down her spine.
“You may have whatever you wish. You always could.”
She saw that now. “It’s good to be queen.” Gwen turned to Lance. “I’m glad you came. I’ll leave you two alone so that you can talk. I think everything is as it should be.”
Lance bowed, a perfect knight. And she realized he was wearing his armor. It gleamed in the light. They’d made each other both more and less than they were meant to be.
“Almost as it should be. I have to see a wicked witch about a thing.” He smiled, and it was the smile that Gwen had fallen in love with so many years ago. He was a knight in shining armor again, a man with vows and purpose. The warmth that bloomed in her heart was happiness for him. That he’d found his way.
“Well, that’s never going to work.” Gwen reached out and marred the shine on the breastplate of his armor. “A man in shining armor is a man who has never been tested. You need some dirt and dings. Then Morgan will take you seriously.”
“I’m happy for you, Gwen. I’m happy for us,” Lance said.
She looked at Arthur. “Me too.”
“All I can say is family dinners are going to be weird.” Lance said as he took his leave.
“He’s right, you know.” Arthur said when he was gone. “He’s going to declare himself to my son’s mother. Your ex-husband is going to be at every holiday meal from now until eternity.” Arthur’s mouth curved in a smile.
Gwen giggled. “Your son who killed you and destroyed your kingdom.”
“At least it wasn’t the Porsche.” Arthur shrugged.
“I think to celebrate, you should take me back to bed.”
“Is that your first act as queen?”
“No, my first act as queen is to tell you that I love you. Now, take me to bed.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
28
MORGAN
M organ soothed her sorrows by wandering in the famous orchard of Avalon. She took great joy in her new powers and it made her happy to bring blooms to the trees, green to the grass and see to the health of all the living things on the island.
She’d been happy to supply Gwen w
ith a dress that fit her happily ever after. It was how things were supposed to be.
If only Lance could feel the same way about her that Arthur felt about Guinevere.
She was glad to know that he’d asked Arthur’s forgiveness and everything was sliding into place. All it had taken was a visit from Aphrodite to shake up their little burg. Even though things hadn’t worked out exactly as she wanted, Morgan was still glad that they’d happened.
Not just because she was Lady of the Lake, but because they’d all been stagnant too long. All living things must grow or die and that’s what they’d been doing—all of them—slowly dying inside while holding on to old dreams and old hurts. It was time to move forward.
Morgan just had to figure out how.
“So, I’m pretty sure I feel your hand in this, Mother.”
She looked up to see Mordred standing in front of her, his shadow blocking out the rays of the sun.
“My hand in what, my son?”
“Artemis.”
“Yes, of course.” Morgan offered him a smile. “Did you learn anything?”
“You knew I would.”
“Correction. I hoped you would.”
“Did you know it would hurt like this?” His tone wasn’t harsh or angry, it was clinical. Curious.
“Like what?” Morgan reached out for him, but he declined to embrace her.
“Like fireworks exploding in my chest and burning up all of my blood.”
Did she know, he’d asked her. At the time she’d agreed to put Artemis in his way, she’d thought she knew, but she didn’t. Not really. She was honest with him. “No, I didn’t.”
“But you thought it was for the best, right?”
“Of course. I don’t wish pain on you, but it’s a lesson we must all learn.”
“Even you?” He cocked his head to the side.
She handed him a dark red apple. “Especially me.”
He eyed the apple, turned it this way and that. “Very wicked witch of you.”
“I know. I am what I am. Just as you are what you are,” Morgan reassured him.
“I love her.” He looked up at her, amethyst eyes dark pools. “I don’t mind the pain. I kind of like it, I think.”
“Did you tell her?”
“Yes. Stupid girl wanted to break the curse.” He acted as if this were the most awful thing she could ever say.
“Why is that stupid? Maybe she wanted to be loved for herself and not because you were cursed.”
“We both know that wouldn’t happen.” Mordred rolled his eyes.
Morgan was amused by her son’s utter arrogance. It had been making togas, dresses, and panties fall off of the supernatural female population since he’d come of age. She’d already learned her lessons about arrogance and pride—they were hard ones, but necessary. “Why not? Are you so far removed from the human experience you don’t think you can feel love?”
“Is that the lesson?” Mordred asked.
“Maybe.” Morgan couldn’t tell him what his lessons were, that was for him to figure out. Although, it warmed her heart that he’d asked her. He hadn’t come to her for advice in a long time.
“What, are you the Lady of the Lake now to speak in riddles?” he scoffed.
“Yes, I am.”
“Excuse me, what?” Her son cocked his head to the side, confused.
“Yes, you heard me. I’m the Lady of the Lake, but I’m not speaking in riddles to confuse you. I just don’t know what the lesson is.”
“It was Vivienne who cursed me. If she’s no longer Lady of the Lake, her curse should be broken.” He eyed her warily. “Did you curse me again?”
Morgan could see the direction of his thoughts and offered him a smile. “No, my son.”
“But I still love her. It still burns.”
“So the love you feel for her is all your own,” she prompted.
“That can’t be.” Disbelief etched itself on his sharp features.
“It can. But I think she’s leaving the island.”
“It’s best.” He seemed decisive.
“As you say.” She shrugged.
“You’re not going to tell me to go after her?” Mordred seemed to think she was trying to trick him somehow. Oh, how she loved that boy.
“Why should I? You’ll do as you wish. You always have.”
“You’re not very motherly.”
“Yes, I am. I meddle in your life plenty.” If only he knew…
“I said motherly, not meddlesome.” His eyebrows drew together sharply.
“Same difference.” She shrugged again.
“You know, I don’t enjoy the way you slip in and out of this Lady of the Lake pomposity and your regular self.” His left eyebrow had arched in disapproval.
“I’ll try to work on that.”
“See that you do.”
It was the closest thing Mordred came to affection. Except then he surprised her. He asked her, “Why did you call me Little Prince when I was young?”
“Because that’s what you are.” Morgan eyed him. What an odd question.
“Because of Arthur or because of you?”
She arched a brow in wicked witch fashion. “Because of me, of course. How could you ever think otherwise? You were Avalon born. Magick is your birthright. You are my son and a prince.”
“Hmm. And here Artemis thought you’d called me your little crabapple or something equally and obnoxiously precocious.”
“Oh, I did. But you didn’t care for it at all. When you were four, you told me to stop calling you inanities and use your name.” She remembered it so clearly, as if it had happened yesterday. She’d instructed him to come to her because wanted a hug and he’d acted so insulted at the endearment, for indeed, he had been her little crabapple.
“Four?” His expression was very much like her wicked witching.
“You cried when I held you, enjoyed your own company much more than mine, until you were old enough that I could teach you magick. Then you sat quietly at my work table, cataloguing potions and ingredients. It was the only thing that would hold your attention.”
“Was I born bad?” A wistful look crossed his face.
“Don’t you remember this part of your lesson?” If he’d forgotten, she might have to rattle his teeth. A smiting was brewing because Morgan had fought long and hard to raise Mordred to do what he must, but not to hate himself.
“About the darkness and the stars? Yes. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t born bad.”
“No, you weren’t born bad. You were born to be who you are. Good or bad, that’s always been your choice.”
“I’m glad you’re my mother,” he said thoughtfully.
“I’m glad you’re my son.” And she was. He’d been a trial, but she’d learned in her long years that all children were—as were all parents.
“Really?”
“Of course, really. What did I teach you about the truth?”
“To always use it because it’s the sharpest weapon,” he recited dutifully.
“Exactly. I’ve never lied to you and I never will.”
“Do you think that perhaps Artemis would let me love her? If I asked nicely.”
“She doesn’t get to choose that and neither do you.”
Mordred put his hands up over his eyes. “I think this is my cue to make my exit. The shining armor coming over that hill is blinding me. And making me throw up in my mouth.”
Morgan knew without looking that it was Lance, but she didn’t understand what he was doing. She didn’t dare let herself have hope.
“Off with you then. Go catch your goddess before she leaves. Aeron pissed off Aphrodite good and proper, so they’re both getting ready to go back to Olympus.”
“Aeron, hmm?”
Morgan could see his wheels turning and the fire of inspiration flare. But she didn’t say anything to him about being kind, or not interfering. He was who he was and Artemis would either love him for that or she wouldn’t. Mordred could hold his own
against the god, if he chose to lock horns with him.
The glare from Lancelot’s armor blinded her as well and she didn’t even see Mordred leave.
“What exactly are you doing?” Morgan asked him in her best Lady of the Lake voice.
“Owning my shit, apologizing, and depending on how that goes, getting the happily ever after I don’t deserve,” he said.
“I really wish you could turn that shine down on the armor.”
“Sorry, can’t do it. Gwen tried.”
Morgan didn’t feel the familiar prickle of irritation at the mention of the other woman’s name. “Do you mean that literally or figuratively?”
“Any tarnishing is on me. Gwen told me that you’d be more inclined toward something a bit more battle-scarred. But it’s enchanted.”
“Oh, I can fix that.” Not that she wanted him to be vulnerable, but she would like to look at his face, rather than that spot of silver that reflected only the sun. When Morgan removed the enchantment, she saw how right he was.
His armor was tarnished, dented, cracked in places, but those cracks were like wounds and they healed as she watched.
The armor was very much like Lance himself.
“Is that better?” he asked.
“Much, much better.” She didn’t dare to hope, and yet, a small seed in her heart flowered anyway.
He drew his sword and sank to one knee, palm atop the pommel.
This was the Lance she’d fallen in love with, the shining armor had always just been packaging.
“First I must ask your forgiveness for my selfishness and my cruelty.”
“Lance—” She was going to say that she understood and there was never anything to forgive.
“I spoke with Vivienne and I’ve misunderstood everything for so long. I’ve been so worried about being what everyone wanted me to be that I became everything I didn’t want to be. I thought I’d lived in service to something greater my whole life, but I didn’t. I lived in service to myself. So I’ve come to ask to change that. I want to live in service to you. I offer you my sword, Morgan, Lady of the Lake.”
His words were like a punch in the face. She’d gone numb and she didn’t know what to say.
“And as unworthy as it is, I offer you my heart too. Let me be your Champion, your personal guard, anything. Just forgive me and let me be with you.”
Ambrosia Lane 1-3: Saranna DeWylde Page 46