Goddess of Legend gs-7

by P. C. Cast

  “Wait!”

  “Yes, love?”

  “I still need help out of this freaking gown. And . . . and, it’s true I’m too exhausted to even consider making love. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to hold me. Please stay.”

  His grin was exhausted as well, but he pulled her up and turned her around. “I will take the Two Words I Wanted to Hear from Isabel’s Lips for a thousand, Alex.”

  “What is, ‘Please stay.’”

  “Correct!”

  She was naked and in bed fast. It took Arthur a while longer as he was wearing what she decided was a medieval tuxedo. All decked out for the ceremony this evening. Good lord he’d looked so freaking handsome.

  He climbed into the bed and held her, his body heat and delicious male scent pure heaven.

  “I could get so used to this,” she whispered. “I could become addicted to this.”

  “Isabel?”

  “Yes?”

  “I say it now and I will utter it with my dying breaths, I do thee vow.”

  Her drooping eyes shot open.

  Viviane? Please, please help me. Please tell me you aren’t taking Arthur from me.

  No answer. Nothing. Nada.

  Thanks a lot, she thought.

  “I do thee vow,” she whispered. But his deep breathing told her he was already sound asleep.

  WHEN Isabel woke in the morning, Arthur was gone. It was a lonely, achy feeling to turn over and have the other side of her bed empty. But she shouldn’t have been surprised. The man was up before dawn, worked until the breaking of fast, then straight to work out with his soldiers. Still pissed her off. Yet at the knock at her door, she was reminded she also had a to-do list a mile long today.

  “Please enter.”

  Jenny peeked her head in the door. “’Tis me, mistress.”

  “Thank goodness. Tea, Jenny?”

  Jenny grinned and entered, her tray full of all kinds of delicious-smelling goodies, as well as tea.

  “What is this, breakfast in bed?”

  “The master said you had such an exhausting evening that you might prefer to just laze a bit, mum.”

  “Oh, the master is wonderful.”

  “He truly is, mum,” Jenny said.

  “I am so sorry you have to pull double duty, Jenny.”

  “Oh, I do not mind at all. Mary has taken over my duties many times when I was . . . ill.”

  “Ill. Right.”

  Isabel drank the heavenly tea, almost moaned at the pastries and dug into delicious scrambled eggs. “This is so good,” she said after a long sip of tea.

  “I am so glad, Countess.”

  “My name is Isabel.”

  “Oh, I could not!”

  Déjà vu.

  “Would you enjoy a morning bath, Countess?”

  “You know, I think I would prefer an afternoon bath today, Mistress Jenny. But thank you for asking.”

  Jenny giggled. She was tall and thin with really long brownish black hair. She could be a Paris runway model with a little makeup . . . and a better wardrobe.

  “If I may say, Countess, Mary has had nothing but wonderful praises upon you.”

  “Thank you, Jenny! That is so sweet. I adore her.”

  “She says that you have a way of making toenails look pretty.”

  “It’s a girl secret, but if you want me to paint your toenails, I will be happy to.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly. Especially if you call me Isabel.”

  “Oh, I could not!”

  Good lord, even one at a time was tiring. She wondered if she could talk Arthur into passing a law that all servants were allowed to call people by their damn freaking names.

  She smiled at runway-model Jenny. “Please go wash your feet. Scrub them and then dry them. Then come back and I will paint them for you.”

  Jenny’s grayish eyes shined. “Thank you so much, m’lady! I will. And, oh, I forgot, Queen Guinevere would appreciate a word.”

  “She is welcome anytime.”

  And just like that, a knock on the door.

  “Come on in, Gwen,” Isabel called.

  Except it was Mary who sailed in, her eyes glowing.

  Isabel nearly jumped out of bed until she realized she was naked. So she just grabbed the top fur and wrapped it around her. “Oh, Mary, you look wonderful! I assume—”

  “Isabel?” Gwen said. “May I come in?”

  “Perfect timing,” Isabel said.

  “No! I am going to miss all of the good stuff!” Jenny said.

  “Hurry,” Isabel said. “We will engage in idle chitchat until you return. In fact, I’ll put clothes on before you return.”

  Jenny raced from the room.

  “Plop down on the floor, ladies, while I don a nightgown.”

  “I’VE promised Jenny to do her toes,” Isabel said. “And she very much wants to be here for girl chat. Do either of you have a problem with that?”

  Mary and Gwen both shook their heads.

  “Jenny is one of the few who has never, ever turned on me,” Mary said. “I trust her almost as I trust you.”

  “And I trust her with all things,” Gwen added.

  But Isabel couldn’t help it. She kept looking into Mary’s sparkling sapphire eyes and she fell on her side, laughing. “That good, Mary?”

  “Oh, Isabel, I had no . . . It was . . . Did you guys know they have these big picklelike things?”

  Gwen and Isabel looked at each other, then both fell over—Isabel again—laughing.

  Jenny came running back in the room. “Oh, no! What did I miss?”

  “We were discussing pickles,” Gwen choked out.

  “What is so funny about that?”

  “I did not say pickle!” Mary said. “I said picklelike. It sort of sticks out like this, and it’s kind of wrinkly and—”

  “Stop!” Isabel said. “I’m going to split my spleen.”

  It took a while, but Gwen and Isabel finally stopped laughing, although they had to avoid looking at each other to accomplish that feat.

  When Isabel finally got it together, she looked at Mary. “So?”

  “I have a new found appreciation for pickles. The big ones.”

  They all busted up all over again, even Mary and Jenny. They were all on the floor laughing. Isabel managed to hug Mary and say, “I am so happy for you. Even though I’ll never get that image out of my mind.”

  Mary looked at her. “Isabel, neither will I, as I will be facing it every night.”

  Isabel had to hold her tummy to keep it from exploding.

  “Countess!”

  Isabel was too busy laughing to hear.

  “Countess!”

  Jenny shook her shoulder. “I believe the king is speaking to you, mum.”

  Isabel sat up. “Your Highness?” she said, all laughter gone at the look on his face. “What may—”

  “A word?”

  “You may speak freely here, King Arthur.”

  “A private word.”

  She wasn’t even dressed yet. But she rolled to her feet and followed him out to the hallway.

  He pulled her, and not even gently, away from her door.

  “What, Arthur? What is it?”

  “I want you to pack and go.”

  “What? What did I do?”

  “Camelot is soon to be under siege, and I need you safe, Isabel. I want you back, safe in Dumont.”

  She glared up at him. “No. I am staying and fighting with you.”

  “You will not. You will slip out to the west and then head north. I have already mapped your safest route with Dick.”

  “Oh, have you?”

  “We have.”

  “Too damn bad. I am not leaving.”

  “Isabel, listen to me,” he said, gripping her shoulders. “We are about to head into battle. Should we fail, we have no defense for the women.”

  “You dumbshit. Do you not think women can battle in our own ways? We are an asset, if you are not stupid e
nough to overlook us.”

  “Good gods, Isabel,” he said, staring up at the heavens. “I do not have time for this. Do you not understand? I need you safe. Please!”

  “How much time before they invade the lands of Camelot?”

  “Five hours, maybe six.”

  “Perfect.” She tried to wrench free. “Do not pull the bully tactic on me, Arthur.”

  “I cannot let you be harmed. Do you not see that?”

  “And I refuse to lie over your dying body while you tell me ‘to thee I vow.’ When you say those words, we will be happy and alive.”

  “I want you alive.”

  “As I do you. And guess what, so does Merlin!”

  “Merlin? How do you know of Merlin?”

  “Do you mind if I explain that later? Right now, we have bread to bake.”

  She wrenched out of his arms and began running. She turned back for one moment. “By the way, I love you. Do not die, dammit. I will be really pissed off if you die.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ISABEL did a U-turn and ran back into her room. All laughter had ceased as everyone sat still.

  “We must move, ladies,” she said. “Camelot is under siege, and we are going to help keep those sonofabitches from overtaking us.”

  “What can we do?” they all said, standing up.

  “Gwen, did Lance truly lay fire to all of those poison mushrooms?”

  “He did not, as Arthur warned him against fire so close to the cottage. They lay there still.”

  “Oh, excellent! Please, take Jenny with you as you know the way. Bring back as many as possible. The crushed ones most of all. But please try not to touch them, and if you chew on one, I will kill you before the mushroom does.”

  She turned around. “Mary, I need you to make wigs.”

  “Wigs?”

  “Fake long hairpieces. Braids. That will work. You need to start with anyone who has long hair. Hell, start with me.”

  “Oh, Isabel! To what purpose?”

  “We are going to fool those assholes. Cut my hair.”

  Isabel cringed as she felt the shears chop her hair up to her shoulders. “Good,” she said, “now go find anyone willing to give hair for the cause.”

  Isabel didn’t even bother to dress, so the shocked looks in the main kitchen were not a surprise.

  She explained, as fast as she could, then begged as fast as she could. Every single cook went to work making breads and pastries, simply waiting for the final ingredient before placing them over the fires.

  “And mead! Lots of mead. And lace it with the same mushroom as the breads. None of you drink or eat any of this. At least not after you add the mushroom mixture.”

  She ran to Arthur’s study, but he wasn’t there. So she turned and ran through the great hall, out the door and into the bailey. There were a ton of men there all geared up and ready for battle.

  She looked around and might not have recognized Arthur if she hadn’t seen a giant man beside him first, the two of them poring over maps.

  She ran over to them. “Arthur, James, we have a plan. By the way, James, happy making-Mary-really-happy day. Anyway, I need about ten scouts to just drop crumbs and such on the way to Camelot.”

  Arthur took off his head armor, then picked Isabel up and clinck-clincked her back into the castle.

  He did not look happy.

  “You didn’t even listen to the plan,” she complained.

  “You did not even listen to me. I told you, I want you gone, Isabel.”

  “But I can help.”

  “I suppose I was attempting to be nice. I should have been more clear. I am done with you. I want you out of Camelot. You no longer interest me. Be gone.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second. You don’t mean that.”

  “Believe what you want. I do not want you here. Gather Tom, Dick and Harry, and leave. I want you off my lands.”

  “You know what, tough boy? Tough shit!”

  “Please go.”

  “No, you asshole. I am staying and I will fight for Camelot and you ’til the end. Win or lose.”

  “If I die, Izzy, I can no longer protect you. If you go, you are out of harm’s way.”

  “And if you don’t let us try, then we cannot even help to protect you. We have plans. Arthur, there are more ways than bloodshed. In war, deception is fully acceptable.”

  “What is your plan, Countess?”

  Arthur whirled, Isabel still in his arms.

  “Mordred, if you are behind this, there is no love strong enough to overcome how I will punish you,” Arthur said.

  “I swear, father, I knew naught of any of this.”

  Arthur nodded. “Your plan, then, is to escort the countess and her men back to Dumont.”

  “I’m not leaving,” she said.

  “What is your plan, Countess?” Mordred asked. “Unlike my father, I have learned to listen when you speak.”

  “We are going to spike the trails leading to Camelot with mushroom-laced foods and drink. We will drop those idiots one mouthful at a time. We might not get all of them, but we will get some. And we will definitely slow them down.”

  Arthur finally placed her back on the floor. “That is brilliant.”

  “It is,” Mordred said. “You will need scouts to lay the trail of food and drink. I volunteer to head the group.”

  “Can we trust him, Arthur?” Isabel asked.

  “You are a better judge of character than I, Isabel. And I have a bias. He is, after all, my son. What think you?”

  She looked into Mordred’s green eyes, so like his father’s. “I believe that your son loves you. He would be proud to be part of the offensive against those who would harm you. Am I wrong, Mordred?”

  “No, Countess. I would protect my father and his lands against all invaders. I know that I said otherwise afore, but ’twas only because I . . .”

  “Wanted to hurt him, as you had believed all of your life that he had hurt you.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you now realize that isn’t at all true.”

  “Yes. I am so sorry, Father.”

  “Please believe in me, Son.”

  “I do, father.”

  “I believe him. Okay, please round up about ten men who know those trails better than any other. Then go to the baking kitchen and gather the food and drink, and meet me back here in the great hall. There is one other part to this plan the men will probably not like so much. But it could well give you more protection, should you encounter any of these marauders.”

  “Yes.” He turned toward the doors.

  “Mordred.”

  He turned back. “Yes?”

  “You are your father’s son. No wonder he loves you as much as he does.”

  Mordred blinked. “I consider that the highest praise I have e’er heard. After all I have said and done—”

  “You make up for it in this one great and important deed.”

  “Thank you, Countess. Father.”

  “And, Mordred. Do not, and I mean it, do not allow any of the men to give in to temptation and eat or drink your weapons. They are poison, pure and simple.”

  “Yes.” He turned and broke into a run.

  Arthur stared at her for a moment. “Would that I had the time to make love to you this very moment.”

  “Time for that after.”

  “I hope with all my heart that is true. There is no way I am going to change your mind about leaving, is there?”

  “What is, Not a single chance in hell, Alex.”

  “What happened to your hair, Isabel?”

  “It happily sacrificed itself for the cause.”

  He laid his forehead against hers. “I ne’er knew it was possible to love this desperately.”

  “And if you don’t get back out there and continue planning, you won’t know it for long.”

  “Yes, you are right,” he said. He kissed her fiercely, right there in the great hall, for any or all to see. And she was sti
ll barefoot in her nightgown.

  “Isabel?”

  “Yes, Arthur?”

  “With all that I am and all that I have, to thee I vow.”

  “Premature, but so very wonderful to hear. Now go. I have work to do.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “You love me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And that is the knowledge and fortification I need to fight the battle of my life.”

  “No more scars, Arthur. Not a single scratch.”

  “I will do my best to honor that wish.”

  “It was not a wish. It was a demand.”

  “Yes, Countess,” he said, grinning. “And I cannot wait to be forever at your demand.”

  She laughed. “Go, smartass.”

  “One more demand I will honor.”

  He kissed her one more time, then turned and strode out the door. Oh, how she wished he wasn’t already wearing his armor, so she could get one more chance to ogle that incredible butt.

  “I love you,” he called over his shoulder.

  One of his men who had just entered stopped short.

  “Not you, Ashton. Her,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

  The boy gaped at her.

  “Ashton! Come.”

  Isabel laughed as she picked up her nightgown and ran up the front stairway, two steps at a time.

  * * *

  AMAZINGLY, by the time she returned to her chamber, Mary, Gwen and Jenny were already waiting for her.

  “What now, Isabel?” Gwen asked.

  It amazed her that Gwen had so quickly handed over the decision making to her. But then again, Gwen was so young and probably had never encountered war in her life. Unfortunately, Isabel had.

  “Gwen, I need you and Jenny to gather the women and tell them all to don their breeches. Skirts are of no help. And then tell them to arm themselves. I don’t care with what. Anything hard and capable of being thrown—”

  “As in Camelot baseball?”

  “Exactly, but they will need larger rocks than the small stones we used. Or hard tree limbs, swords if they happen to have access to any, anything that could be used as a weapon. Those with strong arms we will station in places where they can knock a man off his horse. Others with weapons such as swords or tree limbs we will place where they can whack the hell out of anyone who comes in reach.”