Half Sick of Shadows

by Laura Sebastian

  I might not feel anything else, but I feel that, her touch solid and anchoring.

  “What happened?” I ask her. “I walked into the lake and—”

  “And the lake brought you here,” she says, as if it’s that simple. She pulls the gray shawl from around her shoulders and drapes it over my naked body. Though I don’t think she is moved by her own modesty so much as mine. I pull the corners of it tighter around me.

  “I saw Nimue,” I tell her, the pieces beginning to filter back.

  “Yes, I expect you did,” she says. “She had gifts for both of us, it seems.”

  I take her in, the strangeness and familiarity of her at once.

  “You are not Death,” I tell her. “When I Saw you here again, you were made a goddess of death—”

  “A punishment by the Maiden, Mother, and Crone,” she says, nodding. “A way of atoning for the bloodshed I caused myself.”

  “But you never caused bloodshed,” I say, pieces falling into place. You were always going to end up here. But never this soon.

  Morgana’s smile falters slightly. “I don’t fully understand it, though Nimue explained it to me as best she could before . . .” She trails off, her gaze drawn toward the now placid lake. “I made it to the lake after I left you, but she wouldn’t let me back. There was no boat, no way to cross over. I waited for days, but there was nothing. Then, one night, she came to me.”

  “She left Avalon?” I ask, alarmed.

  Morgana shrugs. “I’m not sure, to be honest. By then, I hadn’t eaten in days. I don’t know that I was in my right mind. But I saw her. I felt her. I heard her. She held a hand out toward me and . . . the next thing I knew, I was here, on this shore, with Nimue. She said that you would be coming soon and she would be gone, but there were things about my future I had to understand.”

  “She told you your future?” I ask, alarmed. “But—”

  “It wasn’t my future. It isn’t at least. Not anymore. She told me as much and then she walked into the lake,” she says before closing her eyes. “I felt it, Elaine. The moment my magic came back. I wanted to weep with relief. Thank you for that.”

  “Don’t thank me,” I tell her. “I should never have taken it in the first place. It was never mine to give back.”

  “But you did. And Gwen is returning to Lyonesse with her own power intact.”

  I nod. “It was the only thing to do,” I say.

  She looks at me. “No,” she says. “It wasn’t. But it was your choice, and in making it, you created a new path. Nimue said she didn’t know what it held, but we are here now, together.”

  “I’m the Lady of the Lake,” I say slowly, tasting the words.

  Morgana takes hold of my hand and pulls me to my feet, and when we stand face-to-face, she smiles—a tentative thing, fleeting and uncertain.

  So much between us feels tentative, the bridge that connects us rickety, but she squeezes my hand like she used to, and in that gesture, I find my friend once more. The girl who saved my life, who had built me to be strong enough to survive anything—to survive this.

  “Long live Elaine, Lady of the Lake,” she says, her voice dripping in sarcasm but also, I think, a bit of pride.

  I shake my head. For so long, this was what she wanted, what she dreamt of becoming since she was a child. It feels like another thing I’ve taken from her. “I didn’t ask for this, Morgana. Any of it.”

  “I know,” she says. “But here we are, and there is much to do.”

  I take Morgana’s hand in mine.

  An eternity of life is a frightening thing and not a gift I would ever have asked for. But if I have to spend a long lifetime fighting, there is no one I would rather have at my side.

  “Yes,” I say to Morgana. “There is much to do.”

  51

  AFTER THE WAR is over, after the final blow has been struck, after Arthur falls, our paths will converge once more.

  Guinevere will bring a dying Arthur to the lake’s shore. In my slim boat, Morgana and I will sail to shore, though there will be no wind in the air, no waves, no sound at all. Nothing but stillness as the world holds her breath.

  “He’s dying,” Morgana will say, touching her brother’s face. It won’t matter that I passed his apology on to her, it won’t matter that she forgave him a long time ago, there will still be a tension between them. A tension that will break the second she brushes her fingers over his skin. Suddenly, he will be her little brother again, the boy she protected with everything she had. Now, she will want to protect him again, but that will be beyond her.

  “You can stop it, can’t you?” Gwen will ask. For a moment, she will seem to be crying, but no, not Gwen. Gwen was not made for tears. Still, there will be something pulled taut in her, something fraying, something ready to snap.

  Morgana and I will exchange a look, unsure which of us she’s talking to. It won’t matter. The answer will be the same, but neither of us will be able to say it.

  “Death cannot be stopped,” I will say after a moment.

  Gwen will know this, she must know this, but as soon as I say it, she crumples. Though we will be far from Lyonesse, there will be something animalistic clawing to her surface, something desperate and feral and wild. The sound she makes will not quite be human.

  “But perhaps,” I will say, my own voice thin as thread. “Perhaps it can be paused.”

  Morgana will frown. It will take a moment for my words to make sense to her.

  “Life is a debt only death can repay,” she will say. “Arthur has lived, but now that debt must be claimed.”

  “And it will be,” I will say, my own voice sounding strange. “But not now, not here, not like this.”

  I will let myself touch Arthur then, smoothing his russet hair away from his eyes—messy as always. For an instant, it will look like he is merely asleep. He will look peaceful and young, the way he did before the world tried to break us. But the second my fingertips brush his skin, I will feel nothing but darkness and death and a doomed world ready to consume us all.

  “Come on,” I will say. “Let’s get him into the boat, back to Avalon.”

  Gwen will hasten to help me lift him, ready to act without question, ready to do whatever might have even the slightest chance of saving him, but Morgana will hesitate.

  “El,” she will say. The nickname is strange to my ears, a remnant of a life long gone, but it will twist something deep in me all the same.

  “It’s the only chance, Morgana. The only chance for him and the only chance for the world. Please,” I will say.

  “It’s a cruel thing, to live a recycled life,” she will say, a flash of anguish crossing her expression.

  “There was a time you wished cruelty on him,” Gwen will snap, and Morgana will stare at her like she’s been hit.

  “You don’t want to talk about cruelties, Gwen,” she will say, her voice dangerous. “Did you cry like this when Lancelot fell at your side—”

  “Enough,” I will interrupt, because I could not help Lancelot but I can help Arthur. “He would want it, no matter how cruel. He would want to do it all again, to fight for Albion. It’s who he is.”

  “Who he was,” Morgana will say, so quietly her voice will nearly be lost to the wind.

  “Who he is,” I will say. “He is not dead yet.”

  Morgana will shake her head, looking down at the ground. “He deserves peace, doesn’t he?” she will ask softly. “After everything, shouldn’t he have a little peace?”

  “He should,” I will say. “But what kind of peace would he find when he knows what hell he left behind?”

  There will be nothing to say to that. Morgana will come to stand beside me, and the three of us will lift Arthur’s body into the boat before climbing in ourselves.

  Gwen will hold Arthur’s head on her lap, her shoulders hunched over,
her face hidden.

  Morgana will take his hand in both of hers, holding it tight and murmuring words of comfort and remorse.

  And I—I will sit at the bow, my gaze fixed on Avalon as I bring us home.

  AFTERWORD

  As a depressed teenager, when I first read Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shalott,” of course I connected to the image he paints of Elaine: locked away, alone in her tower, forced to view life secondhand through a mirror without ever actually participating in it. For me, that mirror was always fiction, and so at seventeen I started writing the first draft of Half Sick of Shadows.

  It isn’t surprising that Elaine of Shalott was such a popular cultural figure during the Victorian era, a favorite of poets like Tennyson and the Pre-Raphaelite painters. She was seen as the ideal woman, especially when compared to the evil Morgana and the traitorous Guinevere. She was passive and kind, she did as she was told, she was so wholly dependent on her husband that she literally couldn’t live without him. She became a cursed woman in a tower, weaving at her loom day in and day out, a fairy-tale princess who could not be saved.

  But here we are now, in the twenty-first century, and that is no longer the kind of heroine we want or need. The version of Elaine’s story you’ve read is, I’m happy to say, completely unrecognizable from that first draft I wrote more than a decade ago, in large part because I did eventually realize just how problematic Tennyson’s original poem is, and how inherently sexist Arthurian mythology is as a whole. The women in the canon are seductresses and manipulators, prizes to be won and sacrifices to be made.

  As I grew up and my worldview shifted, so did my version of Elaine. She grew a backbone, she took on her own agency, she came into her own kind of power. She stopped living on the outskirts of someone else’s story.

  She left her tower.

  Writing that journey has been a challenge, but an immensely gratifying one, and in many ways, Elaine and I grew up together. Half Sick of Shadows is the result of that growth and broadening perspective, and it is truly, as we writers like to say, the book of my heart. I hope you loved it as much as I do.

  —Laura Sebastian

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  All books are a labor of love, and at fourteen years, this book has been a particularly long labor. There are so many people who have had a hand in shaping it and getting it into your hands that I have to thank.

  My agent, John Cusick, who didn’t bat an eyelash when I told him I wanted to rewrite the book in three different tenses and who has always encouraged me to challenge myself. This book wouldn’t exist without your invaluable support and guidance.

  My editor, Anne Sowards, who fell in love with Elaine and her story and helped me tell it in the strongest way possible. I’m so grateful for your brilliant counsel and encouragement.

  The lovely folks at Ace/Berkley and Penguin Random House at large for being the best publishing team I could ask for. Miranda Hill for always being a quick email away. Angelina Krahn for catching all my embarrassing little grammar, spelling, and continuity issues. Katie Anderson for designing a cover beyond my wildest dreams and Adam Auerbach for bringing it to life. Alexis Nixon and Brittanie Black for being the best publicists I could ask for.

  And my friends and family who have given me endless love, peace, and generosity over the years. My dad and stepmom, who have been my rock and sounding board and place to land. My brother, Jerry, and sister-in-law, Jill, for the on-the-go chats and plenty of laughs. Aunt Kim, for the baking tips and award-worthy hugs. Jef Pollock, Deb Brown, Eden, and Jesse, for being my NYC family. Lexi Wangler, Cara and Alex Schaeffer, Arvin Ahmadi, Sarah Gerton, Cristina Arreola, Kamilla Benko, Adam Silvera, Jeremy and Jeffrey West, Victoria Lee, and Rory Power, for always being a text away when I’ve needed to rant or rave.

  Finally, to whomever I forgot. I know there’s always someone. If it’s you, I owe you a drink.

  HALF SICK OF SHADOWS

  LAURA SEBASTIAN

  Questions for Discussion

  At the center of the book is the friendship between Elaine, Morgana, and Guinevere—three very different women. Were there any aspects of their relationship that you identified with?

  Nimue refers to Elaine and Morgana as “two sides of the same coin.” What does she mean by this? Do you agree?

  One of the larger themes of the book is fate. How much of a role do you think fate played in Elaine’s story versus her own choices? Do you believe in fate?

  Lancelot and Guinevere’s affair is one of the best known aspects of Arthurian mythology, though it only exists on the periphery here. Why do you think that is? Can you still see their affair taking place?

  Elaine’s relationship with her mother is unequivocally abusive, but Elaine still struggles with guilt over leaving her, even though her own safety was at risk. Because her mother dies before Elaine can see her again, Elaine never gets closure. What do you think she would say to her mother if given the chance?

  Nimue channels prophecies through the scrying mirror, while Elaine uses the loom and her mother’s prophecies come out in verse. How would you like to see the future?

  Elaine returns to Camelot a very different person than she was when she left. How does this affect the way she sees the city, its inhabitants, and herself? Can you think of a time when you felt the same way?

  Lancelot and Elaine go through many ups and downs from their first meeting to their last. Do you think Elaine’s visions were their biggest obstacle? If she hadn’t Seen every way they broke each other’s hearts, do you think they could have been happy, or were they doomed from the start?

  Over the course of the book, Morgana and Elaine say and do things to each other that seem unforgivable. Though they make up in the end, how do you imagine their friendship might change going forward on Avalon, especially in their new roles with the power dynamic between them so changed?

  The ending is left somewhat open. Do you believe Elaine’s final vision of her, Gwen, and Morgana returning Arthur to Avalon will come to pass? What do you think will happen afterward?

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