Goddess of Legend (39 page)

“Leave off, Michael, David. Now! Release him.”

“My lord, he has betrayed you!” Michael said. “He must be punished. It is king’s law.”

“Are you deaf?” Isabel yelled. “The king has told you to release him.”

Arthur nearly groaned. “Isabel . . .”

“Well, you did! I heard it! Did you not hear it, Mordred?”

“I did, Countess.”

“James?”

“I, too, heard it. Michael, David, should you defy your king’s order, you are in much more trouble than you care to imagine.”

“Betraying our king is treason,” Michael shouted.

“As is defying his direct order,” James said. “Do you not release this man, you are guilty of such.”

That stopped them. They took their hands from Lance’s arms.

“Thank you,” Arthur said. “And listen to me. Listen well, my friends. I do truly appreciate your loyalty, but in this case it is misplaced. Sir Lancelot is a true and loyal soldier, committed to Camelot. Just yesterday he was willing to battle to save our land, and both of you, should you have needed his aid, he would have . . . would have . . .”

“He would have had your backs,” Isabel said.

Arthur did groan this time. “Thank you, Countess. Allow me to take it from here?”

“All yours.”

He heard Gwen’s soft sobbing and Isabel saying, “It’s okay now, Gwen. All is well. Arthur is on the case.”

He nearly laughed, because he knew not what that meant, either, and by the puzzled looks both James and his son shot him, he was not alone in this. Thank goodness ’twas not just him.

“Lancelot has not betrayed me or Camelot. He merely followed his heart. With my complete acceptance. You will not, you will
not
attempt to punish him for something that I do not find a grievance against me or Camelot. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, m’lord,” Michael mumbled.

“Yes, King Arthur,” David said. “We but wanted to show our loyalty to our king.”

“I very much appreciate that. But ’tis not necessary. Yet please understand that I care very much for the good health and well-being of Sir Lancelot, and will take very harsh measures to any who would harm him. Is that clear to one and all who are standing about listening?”

Which, as it happened, ’twas many.

“Yea,” those many answered.

“The laws of Camelot are about to take a turn. I will not announce at this moment what they entail, but I assure you that neither Lance, nor Gwen, nor Isabel, nor I, for that matter, are guilty of any crime against the crown. We merely”—he shook his head, not quite certain what the correct words were, and would not you know it, Isabel chose this time to remain silent—“chose to take differing paths to happiness.

“I believe that every human deserves to choose which path, do you not think?”

“Hell, yes,” Isabel said.

“And now she speaks up,” he said to Mordred.

Mordred grinned. “You must admit, Father, she chooses her moments rather well.”

He pulled his son to him and gave him a hug. But not for Isabel choosing moments, the rift between them might still be a relentless divide. “I fear I am never going to tame that woman,” he said.

“I have high hopes you do not,” Mordred said. “Life would be so dull around here.”

He released Mordred, his heart full. For the newfound relationship with his son and the promise of many tomorrows with Isabel.

He raised his hands. “Then we are all now of the same mind? No harm shall befall Lance.”

“Yea, my king,” many said.

“Good. The drama is over. Please return to your regularly scheduled feasting. I hear there is much pickled eel to be had at the tables.”

He turned, grinning, knowing he was going to pay mightily for that last jest. He could not wait.

Isabel was still holding on to Gwen, who was still crying in her arms.

“Gwen, see to Lance,” he said. “I have this notion he could use your care at this moment.”

At the tap on his shoulder, he turned back. Lance looked at him, his eyes still troubled. “I am so sorry, King Arthur.”

“’Twas not your fault, Lance. None of this was. I am only sorry that you had to suffer the humiliation of this event. Now please, you and Gwen get out of here. Go to the cottage. Go wherever you choose. Just go and celebrate that Gwen loves you so much that she risked death to proclaim her feelings for you.”

“I ne’er meant—”

“I know. Trust me, I know. And trust also that I am not unhappy. I hold not one bit of ill will. This I swear on my crown.”

Lance lowered his head. “You appear very happy indeed, m’lord.”

“That I am, Lance.”

“You know that I pledge—”

“Yes, yes, I know. And I am grateful. Now go grab Gwen afore she has Isabel wet head to toe with her tears.”

 

 

ISABEL couldn’t love a man more. Not a single ounce more. She didn’t know what the future held, she only knew she had never been happier in her life.

“I am so mad at you,” she decided to say to Arthur as the crowd dispersed.

“Why am I so not shocked to hear that, Countess?”

“Would you like to hear why?”

“HaveI a choice? If so, I choose no.”

“Too bad,” she said, but she couldn’t help grinning.

“Now see, I expected this. What have I done now?”

“You have made it impossible not to love you.”

“Does it ever, even for a moment, occur to you that you make no sense at times?”

“Oh, I’ve lived with that one all my life.”

“So this is a bad thing. Your love for me. My love for you.”

“No, that’s the good thing.”

“Okay, I am having you committed,” he said.

“You shouldn’t even know what that means. For crimes against humanity?”

“For crimes against sanity. Why, then, are you angry with me?”

“Because, m’lord, you are so wonderful, it makes my heart crazy. I have more of a cardio workout just watching you be you than I ever have on my NordicTrack.”

“Once again, no sense.”

“I love you so much.”

“Oh, I definitely do understand that one. And I return that feeling, more than tenfold. May I ask what brought on this . . . strange conversation?”

“I admire everything about you. I love everything about you. The way you handle and care for your people, the way you want to make the world a better place, the way you believe in honesty, just everything.”

He stopped her. “Are you truly weeping, Isabel?”

“May I lie?” she asked, trying desperately to get the tears under control.

“You could. But then you would be lying.”

“Oh, man, your logic simply amazes me.”

“What is it? Please, help me here, love. I admit I am at a loss.”

“Come on, Father, she is happily in love with you. Any idiot would be able to see that.”

“What he said,” Isabel said.

“Thank you much for that explanation, my son. Now I understand completely.”

He pulled her close, and Isabel marveled that his warmth and scent was engrained in her memory forever.

“Your warmth and scent are so much a part of me,” Arthur said.

She knew—she didn’t know how she knew, but she did—somehow this all was coming to an end.

Great. Just fucking great. She had just found love and somehow she was about to be forced to make a decision. She didn’t know what, she knew only that she soon had to make a choice.

She had, as she saw it, fulfilled her part of the bargain. Okay, maybe not quite, since she’d been asked to do one thing and managed to do quite something else. But holy hell, just what had she done so wrong that the universe wanted to laugh by allowing her to love and then possibly stripping it from her? Well, at least she’d known it. She supposed that was a prize more valuable than anything. She had to thank Viviane for that.

She looked up at Arthur and stroked his face. “Just know that I love you.”

“I again do not understand,” he said. “I believe that with all my heart. Why are you speaking as if you expect disaster to strike?”

“King Arthur!” a man called.

He turned, pulling her behind him.

“Yes? Show yourself, please.”

“You killed my king, Richard, and you will pay for that crime.”

“No!” Isabel screamed. “It was me. If you want revenge, take it out on me!”

“Shut up, Isabel,” Arthur said. “Just this once, shut up.”

She heard the arrow whizzing toward Arthur the moment it left the man’s bow.

“No!” she heard Mordred say as he sailed into the air before his father and took the arrow right into his shoulder.

“James!” she screamed. “Go get that sonofabitch. And, please, beat him to a bloody pulp.”

She and Arthur kneeled down over Mordred, who had a freaking arrow in his shoulder.

“No, Arthur, do not pull it out yet. It could well kill him.”

“Then what? I cannot allow my son to die.”

“I . . . love you, Father,” Mordred said.

“I love you, son. Please do not do anything stupid like die on me.”

And Isabel knew what she had to do.

“He will not die,” she said. Then she spoke the words that would release the necklace. “
Lady of the Lake, this must be done for love and life for all to have won.”

She yanked the necklace from around her neck, and then cracked it over and over until the pendant broke. She held it over his shoulder, allowing Viviane’s tears to drop on his wound.

“You will not die, Mordred,” she whispered as she felt life slipping away from her own body. “Your father needs you.” She looked up for what she realized was the final time. “He will heal. I love you, Arthur.”

“Isabel!” was the last thing she heard before she left Camelot forever.

EPILOGUE

DROWNING was a truly sucky way to die. But Isabel was beginning to resign herself to it, as she drifted into oxygen-deprived euphoria.

Good gods, she’d had the most incredible dream during her dying process. She just wished she’d lived long enough to actually explain it.

And the memories came back to her in clips. Arthur laughing, Arthur grinning, Arthur frowning and, best of all, Arthur winking.

No, wait, Arthur loving her like she had never felt loved before. The way he touched her, seemingly worshipping her. The way he became feverish with need, and those green eyes, gazing down into hers as he was inside her, making the ultimate love.

She found the most amazing thoughts going through her dying brain.

The way he had professed his love to her, over and over, in sometimes the kookiest ways.

She really should have gotten to know more of the people at Camelot, she decided. She’d bet just about all of them were as good and kind as James and Mary.

None as Arthur, though. The way he had laughed at her dumb jokes. It was so sweet he did that, even though he probably hadn’t understood half, at least.

The way he’d accepted her stubbornness, even when any other man would have given up on her.

Oh, man, she’d loved him to the end. She hoped beyond hope that he’d known.

Oh, well then, that was just peachy.

She didn’t know what was going to happen next. She only hoped, badly, that she got to keep her memories, no matter where she was heading next.

And then something strange. It was almost like she felt banging against her SUV. She thought she felt hands grabbing her, and then an arm wrapped around her waist. It felt amazingly familiar. And that arm pulled her up, up, up, out of the water.

The next thing she knew, she was coughing and choking and spitting out water.

“Ma’am? Ma’am?”

She opened her eyes.

“Ma’am, we’re here to help. Welcome back. You are going to be all right.”

She was staring up into deep green eyes, eyes she had first spotted in a forest long ago and very far away. His hair was dripping, his clothing soaked.

Her hand raised to touch his face. “Arthur?” she whispered.

He sat back. “Yes, how did you know that?”

“That rescue was beyond excellent, Father. She looks okay to me.”

Isabel turned her head. “And he is Mordred, right?”

Mordred laughed. “I’m sorry to say, yes. How did she know, Father?”

“I have no clue, son.”

“You never did, you big oaf.”

Arthur just stared at her. Then he brushed her wet hair back from her cheeks.

“Oh, my lands, Father. She is the woman you dream of constantly. Your description of her . . . it matches exactly.”

“There isn’t a chance your name is Isabel, is there?” Arthur asked.

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

“Good gods. Welcome back to the land of the living, Isabel.”

“I’m glad to be here” she said. “By the way, where is here?”

“Grand Lake, in Oklahoma, ma’am”

“Isabel. My name is Isabel.”

Arthur checked her neck and then lifted her into his arms. “It is very good to meet you, Isabel. Now let’s get you to the hospital.”