by Carol Oates
Arthur pulled her close and kissed her forehead.
She continued. “I apologize for lying. Emrys convinced me we needed Zeal to think he was unbeatable. Arthur knew nothing of this, dishonesty is not in his nature. At the masquerade, I had to be sure Zeal wouldn’t see the truth in Arthur’s face, so I tried to convince him to come with me. I never believed he would.”
“So you weren’t a double agent when you came to us?”
Guinevere’s brow furrowed. “Of course not, though he really did try to win me over, promising me a place ruling by his side. He just appeared in my room, but it wasn’t really him. It was some kind of mirage. I was under no illusion about what he wanted—he wanted Excalibur so I would never try to use it against him.
“It was after Camelot, before you released Arthur, and you already doubted my loyalty and my motives…” She looked at me. “Don’t pretend you didn’t. So, I wasn’t sure you’d even believe me. I went to Emrys for advice first, and he told me we might be able to use it to our advantage if Zeal thought you would be without Excalibur when we finally faced him. He said you’d never agree, that you wouldn’t trust me to be in contact with Zeal, so I should keep it a secret. And I wasn’t a double agent. Zeal never told me anything useable against him. If he had, I probably wouldn’t have believed it, but I would have told you.” Her eyes met John’s. “I’m glad he’s gone. Thank you.”
John shifted uncomfortably and kicked a pebble near his shoe.
“Eila and Joshua should be here any time,” I told them, saving John from having to give an awkward response.
“Good, we need to clean up and get out of here,” Caleb said.
Lewis had to remain in the hospital for three days, and he’d need a few weeks to recuperate before he could return to work. Amanda and I stayed on in Dublin while the others returned to the Brier to regroup. Andrew too, since he had nowhere else to go. As it turned out, his parents had been curators of the Council’s vast array of art and disappeared immediately after Tara. Samuel suspected they were already dead at the hands of Zeal in an attempt to retain some of the wealth he controlled in his previous position of power.
He and Lucien, probably their predecessors too, killed indiscriminately. They had created a lost generation. Without the foundation of a true history, we were coming to maturity in an era of upheaval, knowing nothing about our potential. Who knew how many more were out there.
Added to the financial benefits of killing his parents, Andrew’s unique gift meant he must have been a valuable commodity in Zeal’s eyes. Annice and Samuel promised to help him find out what had happened to his parents and to track down any other family who might still live. In the meantime, it wasn’t hard to understand why they took him under their wing. While they couldn’t help their adopted son, Seth, after he was corrupted by Council teachings, they hoped to help Andrew. Despite my initial wariness, I trusted Samuel, and Eila confirmed Andrew had been truthful.
The news channels reported the mysterious return of the Cauldron to Knowth with still no explanation for its disappearance. The ballroom of the country estate had been returned to its former glory.
Once Lewis was well enough to travel, we joined the others too. The first point of business was a decision to reform a Council. Despite Zeal’s lunacy, he had a point that our people couldn’t go from strict leadership to their own devices. Without rules, we’d have chaos, especially now that more humans knew about us than ever before. We needed leaders to turn to for guidance. In time, Triona and I’d take more of a role, but for now, Samuel, Eila, and Joshua would act in our place. With Joshua’s organizational skill and Eila and Samuel’s experience, they were the perfect choices. She and Joshua left almost immediately for the house in Oxford to set the plans in motion.
John’s control of his speed and strength improved, and workers returned to the Brier. We made our arrangements to return home too. Triona and Caleb were eager to return to their home in Ireland. Amanda had a business to return to, and I needed to fill in for Lewis until he was ready to get back to work. Before doing that, there was one more thing to take care of.
“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Arthur asked Guinevere, his expression serious.
She pressed her palm to his cheek and ran it down to rest over his heart. “What do you think? It’s time.”
We were back at the Crag Lough, standing in the place where Guinevere had lost Arthur so long ago. The remaining temporary residents of the Brier had accompanied us this time. The new moon and cloud-filled sky left us bathed in darkness by the inky blackness of the water. Spring had chased the chill from the air. Regardless, Amanda fitted herself to my side and ran her thumb in circles on my lower spine. The gentle warmth of her soaked though my skin and sent bursts of electricity tingling along my nerves. Chaste touches were a lot more frequent now. We no longer took a moment for granted.
A short distance away from us, Caleb kept a protective arm around Triona. The revelation John was meant to be in Triona’s life seemed to have stirred up old jealousies for him. He handled it better than I expected him to, and I saw them potentially becoming friends one day in the future…but not yet.
I smirked when my eye caught sight of John watching Emma sharing a private joke with Andrew. Archú circled the two, pushing between them as though a large, hairy chaperone, keeping them at a safe distance. Emma touched her red streak of hair, and her eyelashes fluttered against her cheek. John’s lips pressed together, and he scowled when he saw my expression.
Carmel and Lewis stayed near Samuel and Annice watching quietly, unsure what to expect. I had filled them in about the Fáidh, but experience had taught them knowing and seeing were very different.
Guinevere drew Excalibur from the scabbard at her hip and slipped her hand from Arthur’s. The blade came to life, recognizing her touch. She took one deep breath, and her shoulders rose as if pulled up by an invisible force she couldn’t fight against. Dressed in yoga pants and long T-shirt dipping over her shoulder, Guinevere wore her long hair in a French braid. She appeared young and vulnerable as she hesitated beside the water. She snatched a glimpse at Arthur over her shoulder, searching for reassurance.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said in a low voice.
Her eyebrows pulled down, and she frowned, steeling her nerves. Without another pause, she treaded to the water’s edge and slammed the tip of Excalibur into the ground where water lapped around the metal. She whispered words I didn’t understand, and after a moment she pulled the sword out, spraying droplets of water into the air.
The reaction of the Fáidh was instantaneous this time, and a funnel of water whooshed into the air as though forced by a blast of air from underground. It cascaded down like a circular curtain of black liquid crystals and danced over the surface.
“Why do you call us forth, young warrior?” The tinkling glass voices asked and shimmered as the tumbling water pirouetted.
“I wish to be released,” Guinevere said.
“Your choice was freely made.”
“Based on mistruths,” Guinevere reminded them. She had taken Excalibur back because she had needed to live so Arthur could have her place in the Otherworld. At the time she hadn’t known his place there had already been assured because of how close he came to the Riastradh. His unbreakable bond to the Tuatha Dé Danann had ensured he’d join them in Tír na nÓg.
Water sprouted high into the night air and tumbled down like a wave of silk. The voices argued among themselves, every now and then emitting the wind chime sounds.
Triona broke away from Caleb and approached the water, chin up and confident. “Do you know who I am?”
The voices grew louder and echoed like a thousand voices mumbling acquiescence at once. The spray narrowed in circumference, sending ripples outward over the surface of the lake.
“Queen.”
“Good.” Triona smirked. “And as your queen, I order you to remove the sword, Excalibur, from this world.”
The water widen
ed once more as we waited for a response. The protracted interval did nothing to inspire confidence. Triona grimaced in frustration and opened her mouth to speak again.
“Your petition is beyond our power,” the voices cut her off.
“I command you,” Triona pushed, her cheeks reddened at the surprise rebuff.
We talked about this before we came here. After what happened with Arthur, we were sure they couldn’t refuse. If we had no way to destroy Excalibur, we wanted it somewhere no one else could theoretically get their hands on it either.
“Not even you cannot command this.”
Guinevere’s shoulders dropped. Arthur walked over and threaded his fingers through hers giving her hand a light squeeze. Their disappointment was palpable. While Guinevere retained Excalibur she wouldn’t age. She wanted to grow old with Arthur, to be human with him. Surely she had earned it.
“Why?” Guinevere asked. The one word trembled on her tongue, and the breeze fluttered loose strands of hair across her face.
Amanda inhaled sharply, and we exchanged a silent look. It was selfish, but I knew both of us were thinking that we were glad it wasn’t us.
The funnel of water shimmied outward until it became a twenty-foot wide black and silver waterfall, as smooth as glass, reflecting all of us standing on the shore. Outlines quivered, and the colors weren’t so clear to make out every detail, but it was us with a notable difference. In the watery reflection, Excalibur glowed despite no one touching it. I immediately shifted my gaze to the real sword on the slick grass to find the metal blade dull and unremarkable.
“Your path is shifted, young warrior. Your time as Keeper of Excalibur is at an end. For another, the journey has begun, and Excalibur yet has a purpose.”
“What do they mean?” Annice wondered aloud, peeking up at Samuel.
In the reflection everyone exchanged glances with one another, no one sure what to make of the Fáidh’s pronouncement.
“I’m free?” Guinevere asked hopefully, although doubt lingered in her tone. “I am mortal?”
“Take up arms, Keeper.”
As we watched, iridescent ghostly light shimmered around the reflection of the new Keeper as it did the reflection of the sword. John moved in less than a blink. Before anyone had a chance to register what was happening, he flung Excalibur at the wall of water with a grunt. The sword summersaulted through the air and split the waterfall with no resistance. A V-shape of empty air opened up. Our reflections blurred and danced, and the vibrant chorus of voices rang out, furious at the assault. Stones splintered from the opposite bank and tumbled into the lake.
“No!” he roared. “Never.” John paced back and forth at the edge of the water like a caged animal. How in hell did he expect to fight water? What we were seeing was only a conduit. The Fáidh resided in the Otherworld, beyond reach to any of us.
Amanda gasped and accidently pinched the skin above my waistband when she pointlessly ducked to avoid a huge spray of water. Black liquid spouted fifty feet in the air, showering us as the broken wall closed up the middle, and the reflection settled. Triona rejoined Caleb, swiping wet hair from her face and flicking her hand away. Samuel, Annice, Carmel and Lewis seemed to avoid the worst of it because they were farthest away. The water tasted bitter on my tongue and smelled vaguely of sheep manure. Bile rose up my throat. I turned my head and spat rather than swallowing it back down.
Amanda tugged on my arm. “Look.”
The reflection showed Excalibur’s tip buried in the grass in front of Emma. Both were bathed in white light. Everyone turned to her. The real Emma looked startled but otherwise normal, and Excalibur was nowhere. Emma blinked rapidly as her eyes darted from the empty space in front of her to the reflection and back.
“No,” John hissed. “I forbid it.” His nostrils flared and tendons bulged from his neck.
“You cannot forbid destiny.” The Fáidh were evidently growing inpatient judging by the clipped, angry grumble.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Guinevere cried out. “Excalibur is mine.”
“No,” the voices answered, sounding like shattering glass and church bells all at once.
“Let me do it.” Triona ran from Caleb’s arms so fast his arms were left raised and groping at empty air. Her entire body went rigid as she reached the water. “She’s just a kid. I’ll take her place.”
“No.”
Relief swelled up and drowned out panic almost as quickly as it sparked. John pointed his finger at Emma, the real Emma, his arm outstretched. Deep lines were etched in his brow, and his golden eyes sparked with rage. I couldn’t bring myself to interfere. Given his position, I’d do the same. Destiny had asked enough of both our families—to ask more was unthinkable.
“Don’t you dare accept,” John warned.
Emma’s jaw slackened, and her chin jutted out defiantly. Archú remained close, but edged away. Andrew’s anxious expression morphed, and his brows pulled down in concentration. Emma glowered in his direction and pursed her lips, obviously daring him to attempt whatever she guessed he was about to. It dawned on me, on all of us I was sure, Andrew was a perfect candidate to take her place. Did the ability to absorb the powers of those around him with their consent mean he could he take whatever it was the Fáidh saw in Emma? A more interesting question was why would he want to? Regardless, she wasn’t about to let him.
John and Emma glared at each other with narrowed angry eyes. My head bobbed side to side as though observing a tennis match.
“It’s okay. Don’t you get it?” Emma said. “It was always going to be me. Whatever happened.”
“What are you talking about?” John closed the space between them and stopped short of shaking her by the shoulders.
“Dad knew about Triona and Ben, and we were meant to protect their secret too. But you were too stubborn, and I was too young.”
“What?” His face scrunched up at the information, and he shook his head in automatic response.
“I found a journal in the basement, and I think that life would’ve eventually led me to Guinevere. I think no matter what, something was always going to lead me to this.”
“That can’t be true. He’d have told me,” John argued.
Emma rolled her eyes and her hands flapped by her side. “When? When would he have told you?”
John forced out a resigned groan and tugged clumps of hair in each fist.
“You have to believe me. This feels right. I can’t explain it, but I know I’m meant to do this, and you have to let me.”
He didn’t respond, but Emma’s shoulders relaxed, clearly taking this as acquiescence, or something verging on it. Without waver, she reached out to where the sword should be if the reflection was real. Reflection Emma’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of the sword. The moment her hand touched metal, it was there in the ground beside the real Emma, gleaming bright in the dark. Emma kept her eyes on John as she pulled out the sword, claiming it as her own.
With the purpose of their presence completed, the waterfall crashed into the surface of the lake, spraying us with water again.
Epilogue
“BEN, ARE YOU UP?” Amanda shouted up the stairs, dragging me from a peaceful sleep. “You’ll be late.”
“I’m up,” I called back and rubbed my eyes, shaking off the last remnant of a dream that was too foggy around the edges to recall.
Yellow sunlight streamed in through the half opened drapes and warmed my back. I rubbed my eyes again and saw stars for a moment. I’d been working long hours ever since we got back from England to allow Lewis the time he needed to recuperate, and a phantom exhaustion had set in. I wasn’t physically tired, but in my head I knew I should be.
“Ben!”
“I’m up!” I shouted. Amanda had retained her early morning habit over the last several weeks, and the aroma of eggs and bacon wafted up from the kitchen.
We’d slipped back into something that resembled a normal life. In contrast to before, I wasn’t so convinced of my
own invincibility. If the last few months had taught me anything, it was to have a healthy respect for possibility.
Triona and Caleb were back in Ireland. He never said, but I presumed Caleb was glad to put some distance between them and John for the time being. Triona insisted to me that Caleb wasn’t jealous any longer, but as a guy, I insisted she was kidding herself. It would take time for him to adjust, especially with everything else that had happened. Caleb still suffered nightmares about the car wreck from time to time, and after, when Zeal tortured him. He didn’t have actual memories of the torture, but his imagination worked up scenarios based on his condition when he was returned to us.
Guinevere and Arthur traveled to South Cadbury where they scattered Merlin’s ashes. We weren’t sure of their current location. They had a lot of lost time to catch up on.
Archú stayed on with Emma and John in London. She wouldn’t be returning to Paris—instead they were looking into private schools closer to home, and Amanda had invited them to visit at Christmas. John needed to start moving on, and Emma, she had a whole new future ahead of her. Now her future was the variable. I couldn’t disregard the niggling feeling it would have repercussions—that a domino had fallen when we were all playing in unchartered territory. That didn’t have to be a bad thing.
But for now, all that mattered was the immediate future.
I forced myself to roll over and threw my arm over my eyes, ignoring the rumble in the pit of my stomach. I listened as Amanda slipped her shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. She climbed, skipping the two with creaking boards. I restrained the smile making an attempt to burst through. She crossed the upstairs landing, holding her breath, but she couldn’t do anything about her steady heartbeat. Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t exactly stealthy, but it was fun to let her try. I pretended to sleep and waited until she’d maneuvered around the few remaining packing boxes that seemed to have become a permanent fixture in our bedroom. Her flowery scent intensified and darkened. Her heartbeat grew stronger. As soon as her knee brushed the wood of our bed, I leapt up. We tumbled onto the mattress with Amanda squealing in a combination of fright and giddiness, twisting us both up in a marshmallow of white bed sheets and feathers.
