My Once & Future Love (Unsung Knights of the Round Table #1)

by Ruth Kaufman

  “Immortals value purebloods more highly than halfbloods. ’Tis similar to the way humans value kings and nobles more than peasants. The Elders want our race to remain pure. I’m more shunned than accepted, but still considered one of them because of my powers. The halfblood with no powers is cast out.”

  “That sounds cruel. Was it awful for you, being so different?”

  “It was,” he admitted. “Sometimes it still is. But you love me as I am, the greatest gift of all. And your people have been most welcoming, though that might change after they have time to think about what my powers could do for them.

  “Living with humans presents a different sort of challenge. Your kind either fears mine, thinking us in league with the devil, or they yearn to harness our Mysteries—our powers—for their own use,” he said. “I’m parched. Is that enough for now?”

  “Yes. For now.” But her curiosity hadn’t been completely assuaged.

  They rose and dressed, Morgan in a simple tunic and hose and she in a plain gown. She hadn’t thought to bring a comb, so she ran her fingers through his damp hair to smooth any tangles. Then, as she’d longed to do, she braided it into a single thick plait.

  He smiled. “No one has ever done that for me before. ’Tis soothing.”

  If only he could return the favor. Annora squeezed her hands into fists to keep from probing the uneven remains of her hair. “I don’t suppose there’s much to be done with mine. I’ll have Emma trim it as best she can.”

  He took her face between his hands and kissed her thoroughly. “You’re lovely to me just as you are.”

  His compliment warmed her, but she wished he could love her, too. “Are you coming inside?”

  “I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Morgan said.

  “Something’s troubling you. Will you tell me?”

  He sat on the turf bench and put his head in his hands. He seemed so unsure, so defeated. Annora wanted to wrap her arms around him and comfort him as he’d comforted her. But she didn’t think he’d welcome solace.

  “I’m as weak as my father. As King Arthur. Have I learned nothing from their painful examples? I too have fallen in love with a mortal. I lied to you earlier because I thought it was the best way to spare you the effects of my Mysteries, which I can’t always control.”

  Her heart rose at his admission of love, then quickly sank. “But I won’t betray you as Nimuë or Guinevere betrayed them,” Annora said softly as she took his hand.

  “It’s not betrayal, but Merlin’s and Arthur’s human-like weakness that is the key. The greatest fear immortals have is of loving mortals. Their fascination with those mortal women besieged their good sense and decades of training,” Morgan said. “We fear love will outweigh duty and lead us to choose between our people and yours. There’s no way for me to be with you on an equal level and spare any children the suffering and disdain that mixed breeds like Ninian and I have experienced. No way for us to live together and die together.”

  To have him with her always, to grow old with him and bear his children would be the future of her dreams. Tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Morgan. Love should make people stronger, not force them to change.”

  He fixed his gaze on her, his eyes now icy blue. “Are you saying you love me only because of my powers? Because I’m mightier than other men? Nearly invincible?”

  “Of course not,” she said, appalled. “I loved you before I knew about your lineage and what you could do.”

  This had to be their most painful conversation. At last Morgan had revealed his deep secrets, but they unsealed age-old wounds and showed how wide the chasm between them still was. As if the earth split beneath her feet and pulled them apart.

  “But since the day we met, you’ve shown me. You’ve devoted your life to helping another immortal and awaiting your destined mate…even though your race has shunned you.” Bitterness leaked into her tone. “That proves your devotion to your immortal side.”

  “I never thought I’d feel this way about anyone.” He took her hands. “The love I feel for you is ingrained in my soul. Who will I be without you? I might not like that man, for you’re a part of me now.

  “Love works its own magic in drawing certain people together, a force neither mortals nor immortals, nor even the gods themselves can control. It’s you I love, you I want. How can I leave?”

  Annora prickled from a bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow. Morgan had opened his soul to her. For his sake, for all he stood to lose if he stayed, she forced herself to be strong. Instead of flinging herself into his arms, she asked, “What of this destined mate? How can you love me if another woman is your destiny?”

  “It’s written that I’ll know my destined mate when I see her. There’s no guarantee I’ll love or even like her. Which makes what I feel for you all the more worrisome. Now that I know what love is, how can I settle for anything less? No matter what I feel for her, I could never love another as I do you. And for me, never is a very, very long time.”

  She smiled slightly at his attempt at humor. He loved her, which should’ve pleased her beyond reason. Instead, it hurt to know his feelings for her conflicted with everything he’d been raised to accomplish and believe…for centuries.

  “There’s nothing I want more than to be with you and enjoy loving you,” she said. “I want to spend the rest of my life, however long, with you. I want to bear your children, quarter immortals or humans or whatever combination they may be. We’d find a way to deal with those issues, I know it. But we can’t, won’t, be happy if you have such heavy concerns hanging over your head like the clouds you call up. As you told me the day we met, you must choose. Choose wisely, my love.”

  She kissed him tenderly, then walked toward the castle with a heart that had never been so heavy. They loved each other. But that wasn’t enough for him. Even though it was more than she’d ever dreamed.

  Chapter 21

  When Annora left him alone in their special garden, Morgan felt the loss as deeply as if she’d walked out of his life. Had his father suffered such torment, torn between the woman he loved and his people? His duty to his king?

  Though immortals had scorned him as a halfblood, Morgan felt kinship and an obligation to follow their ways because he possessed their skills. From the day Merlin explained his heritage, he realized there was less human and more supernatural within him.

  Not knowing which way to turn at his current crossroads, he considered asking his ancestors. Though they’d probably try to convince him to abandon Annora instead of being impartial, it might help to talk things through.

  “Morgan, ’tis your great-uncle Reynold.”

  “And your great-aunt Matilda.”

  They’d been listening to his thoughts. Unfortunately, there was no way to keep them out of his mind when they wanted to enter. He closed his eyes and waited.

  “Brace yourself, Morgan. We have something to tell you,” Reynold said. “Something you wouldn’t ordinarily learn until you are much older. But I sense your anguish and couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to alleviate it. Are you ready? There’s no guarantee you’ll ever meet your destined mate.”

  “What?” That was all Morgan could get out, stunned speechless. How could others omit such an important point for hundreds of years?

  “We need to keep hot bloods from acting on the impulses of youth, on their desires, and pursuing mortals. Your destined mate exists, but in a world as vast as ours, we’ve no way of knowing whether you’ll even live in the same country, much less cross paths.”

  Matilda continued, “If we all wed where our hearts first led, if we didn’t wait, there’d many more half and quarterbloods. Fewer purebloods to carry on and support King Arthur’s cause. He’ll need our strength and skills to resume his throne and achieve peace among nations.”

  “But I’m a member of Arthur’s Round Table. He willingly accepted mixedbloods as advisors,” Morgan reminded them.

  “This isn’t about what Arthur wants, but the crucial goa
l of preserving the supremacy of our race,” Reynold explained. “You could and can help Arthur because, despite mortal blood flowing in your veins, you inherited the full quotient of immortal intelligence and powers. Many children from mixed marriages will be ordinary humans. For every one of us who marries one of them, we lose potential members of our race. There simply aren’t enough to sustain our purpose.”

  Morgan couldn’t shake his surprise and confusion. “We live forever. Why shouldn’t we have a mixed marriage if we want and then a pure one? The creed of immortals is of peace, not war. All peoples can benefit—”

  Reynold interrupted, “Do you think Guinevere would’ve loved Lancelot if your father could have prevented it? Of course not. I don’t suppose you ever asked Merlin how it haunted him that he couldn’t aid his liege in this.”

  He hadn’t. Or why Merlin hadn’t cast a spell to keep from caring for Nimüe.

  “May I continue?” Matilda asked. “Immortals can’t explain why each of us has a different power. The Elders sought to guide us toward purity, to turn our dreams and thoughts away from mortals and make us use our training to resist them should we feel we’re getting too close.”

  Reynold said, “You’re too independent, too strong. The Elders are sure to view your falling in love with Annora as another of your halfblood weaknesses. On the other hand, you killed a winged snake, which will impress them mightily.”

  Morgan shook his head. His stomach burned. “I feel betrayed. For centuries the Elders and you, my ancestors, concealed the whole truth. In pursuit of your goals, you wanted to control me and every other young immortal. You’re as prejudiced as any people I’ve ever met. To preserve your supposed superiority.”

  Suddenly everything crystallized.

  “Thank you, Reynold and Matilda, for daring to explain. At last I understand. The Elders act out of fear. Like Catholic priests with their Latin masses. They don’t want to lose power over us, and are afraid halfbloods might strive to foment change. But they don’t want to abandon us completely. For then we might combine forces to overthrow the Elder council. We might work together against them instead of with them, and they’d lose.”

  “We will leave you now. You must decide what all of this means for you.”

  His mind was his own again. But his head still felt too full.

  Morgan rested his hands on the stone wall, eyes closed against the sun’s brightness. He’d faulted Annora for believing what she’d been told, for not looking beyond boundaries set for her by her family and priests. To his shame, he realized he was no different. He’d accepted what he’d been told about whom he must marry. Without question, without challenge.

  He’d been taunted in his childhood village for being different. Even the woman who’d spent twelve years acting as his mother rejected him. Though his powers equaled theirs, to this day the Elders looked down their noses because of his mortal blood. Morgan had all but renounced his mortal side and spent decades trying to fit in among immortals. He’d failed. Finally, he’d stumbled into a place where people welcomed him and thought he was worthy of leading them. Some god had led him to a woman who loved him and whom he loved in return. Could there be greater gifts?

  But as much as he wanted to belong in Annora’s world, he had to be honest. Those at Amberton had fled the hall before he called upon his powers. They hadn’t seen what he was capable of and were so relieved to be free of Roger and have their lady rescued they hadn’t yet questioned the means of his victory. Rumors were sure to fly when they started wondering how one man could conquer several dozen, and done so much damage to their home but walked away unscathed. Would it be like his childhood village all over again?

  Morgan could bear the pain of injury to his body, but feared his beleaguered heart couldn’t withstand more slighting. Worse than anything he might endure, with one loss of control he could annihilate Annora and everyone who lived with her.

  Annora had asked him to choose wisely. Was it wiser to leave and keep her safe, or stay and trust in their love?

  Morgan only knew he had to make a choice, and stick with it.

  * * *

  “Emma, will you help me prepare a chamber for Morgan?” Annora asked.

  They worked in the hall amidst a swarm of servants cleaning as if their lives depended on it. The sounds of brushes scraping, the smell of lye soap should’ve been reassuring. She had control of her home back. Roger, her tormentor, was dead.

  But she felt mired in turmoil. Though her body still tingled from their incredible lovemaking beneath his rain shower followed by warming and bright sun, though she craved more of the same, she couldn’t open herself up to such emotional intimacy again until Morgan decided whether or not he wanted to live with her. The clash of joy at being with him and despair that he might leave was too difficult.

  “But, Annora, aren’t you…what I mean is…I know you’ve….” Emma spluttered.

  “It’s for the best.”

  “If you say so.” Emma wrung her hands. “Annora, there’s something I need to tell you. Something happened while you were locked in your room. I hope you won’t be angry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but I couldn’t bear to add to your troubles. And there was nothing you could have done at the time.”

  Annora scrubbed soot from a chair. “Tell me, then, what is it?”

  “It’s the kitchen boy, Thomas. In front of everyone, Roger cut off his right hand to show what would come of us should we betray him.”

  “Dear Lord, no.” Annora’s stomach rose to her throat at this gruesome proof of how her people suffered while she sat helpless. “What for? Had the lad stolen something?”

  “It was my fault. Roger demanded to know who’d been helping you, but I couldn’t bring myself to confess that Albert and I were sneaking out your messages. Lady Annora, I’d do anything for my boy, Albert, I would. I never thought Roger’d take out his anger on someone else in such a violent way. I was so selfish to let the boy take our punishment, but my mouth wouldn’t speak the truth.”

  Not being a mother, Annora couldn’t say what she’d have done had the horrible choice been hers to make. As she feared, Roger used violence and threats to control her people. She should’ve fought him to the death to escape him sooner. “Where is he now?”

  “I tended to him right away, though Roger wouldn’t let me send for a physician. Thomas will recover. At least his arm will. But I feel so horrible. So wrong.”

  “I’ll tell him that as soon as he’s recovered, I’ll train him to be my page. I’ve always wanted one,” Annora said with a smile.

  “Thank you, Annora.” Tears filled Emma’s eyes. “I just didn’t know what to do. Thank you for understanding. For helping.”

  What’s done is done. The past couldn’t be changed, but the future— She’d do whatever it took to restore everyone and everything in Amberton to rights. And repay them for all they’d endured on her behalf because of her uncle’s cruelty.

  For the rest of the day and into the night, Annora immersed herself in cleaning, working side by side with laundresses and maids. Once the charred tables, chairs and tapestry remnants had been removed, things didn’t look so bad. Despite her bruises and burns, she hauled and emptied buckets of water until her hands blistered and she was so exhausted she could barely move.

  She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep until most of the damage had been rectified, as if she needed to scour all reminders of Roger from her life. As if she had to wear herself out so she wouldn’t have energy to think about Morgan. Later, she’d relax and recuperate.

  As she rubbed Emma’s salve into her palms and stretched her tired muscles, she looked about the hall with pride. A fire glowed in the hearth, though a smaller one than usual. Everyone seemed a bit leery of uncontrollable flames. Nothing could be done at the moment about the scorched ceiling beams. She’d have to buy some new furniture and tapestries, but otherwise Amberton’s great hall was nearly as before.

  Where was Morgan? She felt abandoned and alone, nee
ding his comforting presence for as long as he was willing to give it.

  What if, to spare them the misery of parting, he’d already gone?

  Their conversation in the garden stayed with her. Despite the immortals’ poor treatment of him, she could tell he still wanted to be one of them. If he lived at Amberton, his life would be far different. Better or worse different? In addition to serving as lord, would he feel the need to do whatever immortals did? And if King Arthur returned to his throne during her lifetime…would Morgan desert her to serve his king or take her with him?

  Too many questions with no satisfactory answers.

  As much as she loved him, she feared if Morgan decided to stay with her he might feel as trapped as she had while locked in her room. Annora loved her simple life, but how could she, a mere mortal who’d grow old and die, and Amberton, hold the interest of a man who’d lived hundreds of years and seen the world?

  A Knight of the Round Table, whose sworn duty was to serve and restore the renowned King Arthur?

  * * *

  Morgan remained in the garden for hours after the revealing conversation with his ancestors, awash in cool breezes. He couldn’t bring himself to face Annora until he made his decision. They couldn’t go on as they were.

  Sitting with his legs crossed, back straight and arms relaxed on his thighs, he sought the personal awareness he’d only achieved through meditation. Guilt niggled him for not helping everyone repair the hall, but as he lost himself in the world of his thoughts, in the serenity of inner solitude, guilt faded with the rest of his concerns.

  With a long sigh, he breathed out tension. Behind his closed eyes glowed reassuring golden light. A river of calm flowed from his heart to his fingers and toes. His spirit left the garden, floating to a higher plane, seeking to banish doubt.

  When he returned, night had fallen. Morgan knew what he had to do.

  He couldn’t wait until morning. Knowing Annora, she probably couldn’t sleep. He had to tell her so they could get on with the rest of their lives.