Goddess of Legend gs-7

by P. C. Cast

  “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.

  Viviane, tell me what is true. Am I about to lose Arthur to you?

  Merlin is happy, he is up and about. He is so grateful to you, he wants to shout.

  But, what is going on, is my mission done, so that now you are willing me gone?

  Trust, Isabel, trust that ’twill work for all. Remember the necklace, then you make the call.

  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.

  Okay, thank you.

  Merlin cannot to begin to thank you, Isabel. And I cannot thank you enough as well.

  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.

  Please, Lady, allow me my memories.

  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.

  Thank you, Lady.

  Would you care more to recall?

  Oh, Lady, I want it all.

  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.

  He knew. Isabel, he knew; he knew your love for him was true. You gave up your life to save the son, and that then your mission in Camelot was done.

  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 bang
ing 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.”

  “What’s wrong with Mordred’s arm?” she asked, seeing that it was in a sling.

  “He was foolish enough to step between me and a hunting arrow when we were hiking last weekend.”

  “Of course. Did you catch the idiot hunting with a bow and arrow?”

  “Our friend James did,” Mordred said. “Practically beat the man to a bloody pulp. It isn’t even bow-hunting season.”

  “Of course.”

  “This is really uncanny. My father even dreamed one time that he’d have to perform CPR on you.”

  “Mordred?” Arthur said. “Can it.”

  “Thank you. But I really don’t want to go to the hospital,” Isabel said. “Thanks to you, I feel much better now.”

  “I’m pretty sure Mary won’t allow you to walk away. Or James. They are the EMTs waiting to offer you a chauffeur-driven ambulance ride to County General.”

  “Of course. Where are Gwen and Lance?”

  He stopped. “How could you know these names, Isabel?”

  Good question. “I had this dream. This really great dream.”

  “I know the feeling. Gwen is likely at her shop.”

  “Let me guess. A florist shop?”

  “My God. This is becoming beyond weird.”

  “And Lance?”

  “And Lance is probably operating on a patient as we speak. Orthopedic surgeon.”

  Isabel chuckled. “Of course. He was always really good with sharp objects.”

  “Let’s go, King Arthur,” Mary called. “The woman needs treatment.”

  “King Arthur?”

  Arthur rolled his eyes. “A very stupid name they gave me years ago when I was named chief of the fire department. They think it’s funny. I find it a little irritating. But just try to stop them. I’m telling you, I have no idea when I lost control of my people.”

  Isabel grinned. “I’ve always felt that the sign of a good leader is when the people who work for him feel comfortable teasing him.”

  He shook his head. “This is so strange. You said something close to that to me in my dream once.”

  “Strange in a really cool way, though, don’t you think, Father? It’s like fate.”

  “This is going to sound like a bad pick-up line, Isabel, but I’m going to say it regardless.”

  “Say it.”

  “Have we met?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.

  She grinned. “It appears we have,” she said.

  “I would really like to meet again so we can figure out how we know each other. As soon as you’re better, maybe dinner?” Then he shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m even asking. Trust me, I don’t make a habit of asking women I rescue to go out with me.”

  “Good. Then I’m the lucky one. But a question first.”

  “All right.”

  “How do you feel about picked eel?”

  He frowned. “I’ve never heard of it. But it sounds disgusting.”

  “Excellent answer. Dinner it is.”

  “Is she the woman of your dreams, Father?” Mordred asked.

  He looked down at her. “She could very well be, son. Although I don’t remember the woman in my dreams ever being quite this wet. Somehat wet once, but not this wet. Tell me, Isabel, do you believe in fate?”

  “Oh, most definitely,” she answered, then realizing that that little dunk in the lake took more out of her than she’d thought, she laid her head against his chest.

  Yes, I believe in fate. With a little help from my friends. I can’t thank you enough, Viviane.

  I told you to trust, Isabel, to trust me that all would be well.

  And Merlin, how is he?

  I am happy to report, as well as me. And now, Isabel, move forward with your life. I am thinking that perhaps you’ll make a good wife. I thank you so much for all you have done; I believe that this day, all you hold dear has won. It is time, Isabel, for us to part ways, but I leave you knowing happiness is yours for the rest of your days.

  I am really going to miss you, Viviane. Thanks for the adventure.

  But sadly, she got no answer.

  Arthur laid her down on the ambulance gurney.

  Standing on either side of it were Mary and James, and Isabel nearly started crying with happiness. “Boy, am I glad to see you guys.”

  “Now that’s something we don’t hear every day, is it, James?” Mary said as she laid a blanket over her patient.

  “Sure isn’t.”

  “What’s your name, ma’am?” Mary asked, peering at her closely.

  “Her name is Isabel,” Arthur said.

  Both Mary and James went still. “Isabel? As in the name of the woman you keep dreaming about?” Mary asked, looking at her even more intently.

  It became abundantly clear that Arthur had been bothered by these dreams enough that he’d described them in some detail to his closest friends.

  “We’re going to try to figure that out. I’m riding in back with her.”

  “Honestly, I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

  “Amuse us,” James said.

  They lifted her up and into the ambulance, and then Mary climbed up and locked the gurney into place.

  “How are you at hair, Mary?” Isabel asked.

  Mary stared down at her and then burst out laughing. “How did you know?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  “Pretty good. I cut the hair of all of these doofuses. Why, would you like me to cut yours someday?”

  “I would love it.”

  Mary nodded. “I think I’d like that. A lot.”

  She performed all kinds of vitals checking, then listened to Isabel’s lungs. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired, but strangely, really, really happy.”

  “Cheating death has a way of making people feel that way. You were damn lucky Arthur just happened to be driving by and saw you take the header.”

  “Lucky, yes.”

  “Or maybe, just maybe, it was something else,” Mary speculated. “Arthur has been having these premonitions for a couple of months now. Well, he called them dreams, but . . . who knows?”

  “How’s our patient?” Arthur asked, climbing in and sitting on the bench.

  “Lungs surprisingly clear, heart rate slightly ele
vated, but you tend to have that effect on damsels in distress.” She opened a cabinet above her head and pulled out a blanket, tossing it to him. “She definitely needs to be checked out at the hospital, but I would bet she’ll be released within an hour.”

  She climbed down from the back of the ambulance. “Not exactly protocol, but I see no reason not to ride up front with James. I think she’s in good hands.”

  “Thanks, Mary,” Arthur said.

  Mary winked and slammed the doors.

  Arthur waited a second, then smiled down at Isabel, that heartpoundingly handsome smile that she had fallen for so long ago.

  He took her hand. “Seriously, how do you feel?”

  “Surprisingly wonderful.”

  “You look surprisingly wonderful.”

  “I’m sure I look like a drowned rat.” She glanced away, then back. “Thank you, Arthur, for saving my life.”

  “Thank you for surviving.” He shook his head, but his gaze never wavered from hers. “Have you ever just looked at someone and you knew, somehow, you just knew?”

  She didn’t even need to ask, “Knew what?” She nodded. “Yes, I have. Once, a very long time ago. And then again today, when I opened my eyes on the banks of Grand Lake.”

  “I know it sounds crazy, Isabel, but my son was not exaggerating. I have had so many dreams about you, every day I would search for you in the crowds, in restaurants, just everywhere I went. I couldn’t believe it when I pulled you out of the lake and got a good look at you. And then fear, like nothing I’ve felt in my entire career, took over. I was so scared that I would lose you, just when finally, finally I found you.”

  “Well, guess what, Arthur. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. “I am determined to hold you to that, Isabel. I have this overwhelming desire to make you vow to it.”

  “I vow.”

  “I’m seriously guessing it’s too early to ask you to marry me.”

  “Not really. As long as you promise me I won’t ever have to eat pickled eel.”

  “I swear.”

  “Then to thee I vow.”

  AND within weeks they exchanged those vows, Mary and James stood at their sides.