Page 30 of Queen Takes Camelot: Gwen
Over and over and over.
His eyes flashed with emotion, darker than the midnight blue that Guinevere remembered. I didn’t need a bond with him to read his rage. His lips were tight, his eyes narrowed and dark, and he certainly didn’t run to greet me.
Lance’s bond made a sound like a ringing sword as it was drawn for battle.:He doesn’t even rise for you, my queen. Given our very long history and your lineage, that’s unforgivably rude.:
A woman stood and glided toward us. Gossamer robes fluttered around her, very much like the butterflies that had startled us so much. Her skin gleamed a burnished golden-copper. Darker copper hair hung in a thick braid that trailed the ground behind her.
“Welcome to Avalon, sister.” She kissed both of my cheeks and took my hand in hers. “I’m so pleased to see you at last.”
“Humph.” Merlin glared at me. “You might as well have gallivanted around for another five hundred years. Evidently I’m in no rush to return to the land of the living.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked her as politely as possible.
The woman laughed, a high sweet sound like chiming bells. “My apologies, Guinevere. I forget how much time has passed for you. My name is Morgan. You once knew me very well.”
“I’m Gwenhwyfar Findabair, though most people call me Gwen.”
She leaned closer, staring into my eyes. A small sound escaped her lips and her jeweled eyes shimmered. It took me a second to realize she was near tears. “You honestly don’t remember.”
Bewildered, I glanced at Merlin, dressed in deep purple robes that made his hair gleam like amethysts. “Remember what? I recognize Merlin, though I have no idea why he’s so angry.”
His mouth opened and then snapped shut. His eyes blazed. His cheeks darkened and he stood jerkily, moving stiffly as if he was a puppet or robot. “Howdareyou forget that you locked me here for over a thousand years?”
* * *
MERLIN
My rage was a living beast that snarled and tore hunks from my flesh, devouring me slowly for centuries. Even here in the Land Beneath the Waves I felt the excruciating passage of time grain by grain.
So many years. Wasted.
Lifetimes. Destroyed.
Entire civilizations rose and fell.
While I sat here in a beautiful paradise, tormented by my most excellent and vivid imagination of all the horrid things the bastard king would do to my beloved queen. I cursed the day I ever involved myself with House Pendragon.
Even though that relationship had led me straight to Guinevere.
Perhaps my memory had dulled over the years, but this woman looked nothing like the legendary queen. Surely the White Enchantress’s blood must run very thinly now. She looked at me, eyes flaring wide with shock, and I didn’t recognize her.
Disappointment welled inside me, choking me, but at least it quelled my fury.
“I… I mean,sheimprisoned you?” Gwen asked. “How is that possible?”
Morgan slipped an arm around her waist and led her closer, seating her on my left. Her knights glared with murderous fury at me, but I ignored them. Their ridiculous oaths of chivalry had always been a hindrance, which was exactly why Lancelot kept falling into Elaine’s clutches.
And yes, that was only one of the many reasons that Arthur kept killing them. You couldn’t be honorable when battling a poisonous serpent that wanted so very desperately to kill us all. They couldn’t help who they were, any more than I could forget what I was. No matter how long I’d had to dwell on all my failures, I couldn’t change the past.
Only Guinevere had been able to weave our imperfect pieces together into a tapestry that had shone so brightly that our legend still lived centuries later. Though only a fraction of the truth remained.
“Where to begin?” Morgan sat on my right. The ever-perfect hostess, she poured tea into delicate china that looked like water lilies. “Guinevere was known primarily as a healer to the common folk, but few knew that her greatest gift was foresight.”
I couldn’t help but make another disgruntled sound. “Too bad she didn’t foresee what a mistake marrying Arthur would be.”
“Perhaps she did.” Morgan gave me a quelling look and continued her tale. “She took as many precautions as possible, else you would not be here, Merlinus. History has lost a great deal of the truth. While she claimed direct lineage to Dea Matrona, her father was Gwyn, the king of the Tylwyth Teg.”
She paused, waiting to see if Gwen recognized the name.
