by Sarah Zettel
He licked his lips, trying to force his sluggish thoughts into some kind of order. It was so strange, so unreal that he should be kneeling here with this woman in her space of daylight with Lynet’s still form lying in his lap. “It is for love,” he said. “Where love is strongest, the break is the hardest.”
She nodded solemnly. “You understand then.”
“I am trying.”
The woman laid her hand on his arm. Her touch was cool but vibrant, the feel of life held tight and close but longing to break free. “It is enough, Gareth.”
He swallowed. It seemed irreverent, arrogant that he should question such a being as this, but even while his heart broke and he knew he knelt at the end of the world, he could not forget what he had left behind him in the dark. “I beg your help, gracious lady. Morgaine …”
She held up her hand. She seemed startled, but not displeased. “She is already gone, Gareth. Beyond my reach, and yours.”
“I left …”
“He has taken no lasting hurt from her, and she has done nothing other than lain with him.”
“Why? Why did she …” he could not finish a single sentence. He could not bring himself to truly, finally believe all he had witnessed, all he had permitted.
The lady before him sighed. “To wound,” she said softly. “To get what she wants. To deny that she is the one who has caused her own pain.”
They sat in silence for a moment, Gareth and the shining lady, with Lynet unmoving between them.
“Please,” he heard himself say in the voice of that small boy who had been so much with him on this horrible night. “Where is Lynet?”
“She is with me,” said the lady simply.
“Can she return?” The words caught in his throat, caught on hope and despair.
Again the deep sympathy welled up in the Sea’s eyes. “Not alone. Not this time. She went too far.”
“Is there anything I can do, Lady? Please. I will do anything. Just … just let her come back.”
“Anything, Gareth?”
He heard the depth of those words, felt the darkness under them. He was no more in the mortal world. This was the invisible country. In this place words bound like stone and iron. In this place any bargain made would be kept, willingly or no. He knew it from his brothers, and from the intuition of his own soul. He felt Lynet’s still weight against him, felt her hair flowing loose over his hands.
“What is required?” he asked hoarsely.
“What was given, Gareth. A life.”
He would die for her. He could do it easily. He’d walk off the cliff with a full heart. He knew it. Never have to face the morning. Give his last for love and be sung about as Sir Tristan was in the countryside, and Lynet would be safe and there would be no more ghosts for either of them. No more loss. He would be the one who vanished this time.
But the sea was looking at him sadly now, and he felt the other thing. The part of him that spoke of cowardice. Slowly, under the gaze of the Sea, and holding Lynet’s still form, Gareth understood.
“I give her my life,” he said. “As she gave hers. I give it in service to her. I will be hers and no one else’s. My life to hers and for hers, for as long as we are granted to live. Will that be enough?”
The Sea smiled, and she stood. “Yes, Gareth. It will be enough.”
She stepped aside, moving into the night, and for a moment he saw Lynet before him, shining, whole and well. Then, that spirit self laid down in the bed of her body. She began to breathe, naturally and deeply and he felt the warmth of her beneath his hands. In the next moment, her eyes opened as simply as if she woke from sleep.
“Gareth,” she said.
And Gareth had no words. She sat up and she smiled. “Gareth,” she said again.
“Yes, Lynet,” he said. “I am here.”
And he leaned forward and he kissed her and she wrapped her arms around him answering that kiss. And the light of the Sea faded away, leaving them the moonlight and the sea-wind.
It was enough.
Epilogue
The marriage of Lynet Carnbrea and Sir Gareth, Lot’s Son took place in the great hall of Cambryn. It was the queen who gave the lady in wedlock, and Lionel who stood sentry for Sir Gareth as none of his brothers were there. Father Lucius spoke the mass in the chapel. The Lady Laurel looked on, some said lost in thought, other, more bitter tongues said in jealousy.
But what there was to be jealous of, most could not be sure. As a wedding gift, Queen Guinevere gave the whole of Cambryn over to the line of Carnbrea, and as the eldest of that line, in that stroke, Laurel became queen.
It was noted that Sir Lancelot stood silently at the back of the gathering, and some thought it was strange that he did not stand beside the man who until the day before had been his squire. Some said there had been a quarrel between the two, but none at that time was ready to say aloud what might have been the cause.
If any saw the black raven that sat in the branches of the hazel tree outside, looking in at the ceremony and celebration, none remarked on it.
The End
Serving as inspiration for contemporary literature, Prologue Books, a division of F+W Media, offers readers a vibrant, living record of crime, science fiction, fantasy, western, and romance genres. Discover more today:
www.prologuebooks.com
This edition published by
Prologue Books
a division of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.prologuebooks.com
Copyright © 2006 by Sarah Zettel
Cover images istockphoto.com/© Giorgio Fochesato, © TheBiggles
All rights reserved.
Published in association with Athans & Associates Creative Consulting
Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely
ISBN 10: 1-4405-4371-2
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-4371-5
eISBN 10: 1-4405-4370-4
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-4370-8