With My Last Breath, Book Three (4 page)

I melted against him as we sat, enjoying his masculine scent and the strength that ebbed from him almost palpably. It didn’t matter what his name was or which body he inhabited, he was always the same person and it was my sole mission now to save him.

‚It’s a beautiful night, is it not?' he drawled as he stared up at the black night, stretching before he dropped his arm around my back in a subtle gesture as old as time.

The bright stars twinkled and I couldn’t help but enjoy being here with him, in spite of the pressing responsibility that I felt to find the sword. I could take just a moment to enjoy him. What would it hurt?

‚Will you come to my chambers tonight?' I murmured against his neck.

‚Has there been a night in your most recent memory when I have not?' he stared at me incredulously.

‚Not that I recall,' I laughed softly, enjoying his long fingers wrapped in mine as I ran my fingers through his silky dark hair.

‚Well, then there is no reason to begin now,' he announced with finality.

He lowered his head and engulfed my mouth with his own. I could taste the honeyed mead on his lips and I drew him even closer, clutching at his strong back. I would never be able to get close enough to him, but I could certainly try.

As his mouth made love to mine, I found myself wondering about our future here.

Would I be gone before Lucan died in this life? Because I certainly did not want to witness that yet again. I had lost him too many times already.

But as he deepened the kiss even further, I shoved the unpleasant thoughts from my mind. I was here now and so was he. I’d think about the ugliness later and simply enjoy the now.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

Chapter Four

I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned in the lavishly adorned bed, twisting about in the soft bedclothes, but slumber just wouldn’t come to me. Finally, after staring at the stone ceiling for half an hour more, I crawled out of bed with a sigh. There was no reason to keep Lucan awake with my restlessness.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked like a little boy as he slept, his handsome face slack and relaxed. I smiled to myself. I couldn’t get over having him back. Time travel was truly a miracle and a blessing. If I blocked out reality just enough, I could pretend that everything was fine.

I pulled a lacy silk wrap over my nightgown and slipped soundlessly onto my balcony. Leaning onto the thick stone ledge, I stared absently at the countryside below me. Even at night, Camelot was beautiful. Wild bramble and bluebells adorned the rolling hills, along with brilliant red poppies and dark purple violets, appearing as a scene from a vivid painting. I could only just make out the colors in the darkness because of the full yellow moon that hung on the horizon.

The nighttime dew was so thick that it formed on my own skin within a few minutes. It rained quite a lot here. But the rain kept everything fresh and new, kept the grasses thick and lush. It also made the air clean and sweet. I inhaled a deep breath. It smelled like a mountain spring would taste.

Lucan stirred in his sleep and I turned, watching him bury his head deep under the pillows through the fluttering curtains surrounding my bed. They were more prone to heavy velvet draperies here in Camelot, but I had insisted on gauzy sheer curtains in my bedchambers. I supposed it was a throwback to my true heritage in the Spiritlands.

The weather was perfect there, so we had no need for heavy cloth. We had the luxury of beauty over functionality.

I sighed as I realized that if I was comparing the Spiritlands to Camelot, then I was truly wide awake. I knew I was not going back to sleep now. And if I was going to be awake, I might as well reacquaint myself with the castle. We were here on a mission and failure was not an option. I could sleep when we returned to the Spiritlands. I quietly crept past my bed where Lucan blissfully slept and slipped silently out into the hall, closing the door softly behind me.

The corridors were cool and shadowy, the light from the flickering torches slowly dying. My nose twitched as I sniffed at the lamp oil. They would just barely last until morning, each hour burning lower and lower until they burned out just as they sun came up. Like everything else in Camelot, they did their jobs perfectly. Arthur made sure that everything worked like a well-oiled machine.

As I walked, I trailed my fingers along the rough-hewn blocks of the walls. How could I ever have forgotten this life? It was astounding to me that the Fates’ had truly Courtney Cole 22

With My Last Breath, Book Three

held that much power over me. They had literally played games with my mind and I had allowed it.
Never again
, I vowed to myself, as I turned a darkened corner.

A flicker of movement stilled my footsteps and out of instinct, I stepped back into the cover of darkness. With interest, I watched a figure emerge from the king’s bedchambers and then I saw Guinevere’s face in the dim torchlight. I sighed in relief.

Sleep was alluding her, as well, and it would give me a chance to speak with her.

I moved toward her, but something was wrong and I froze once again in the shadows. A dark light shimmered over her body, flickering and swirling up and down the length of her. It made her appear as a mirage. I blinked my eyes closed, but she was the same when I reopened them.

And then she was no longer my mother. Her body twisted and contorted and she morphed into Morgan le Fey, the half-sister of the king. She stood quietly for a moment, completely still. But while her dark blue eyes stared straight ahead, I was able to see something within them.

She was Eris. Morgan was actually Eris, the goddess of strife and discord- my polar opposite. She had been a thorn in my side for several millennia and she had never been more devious than she was as Morgan.

In fascination, I watched her catch her breath, lifting a shaking hand to tuck a long tendril of dark hair out of her face. Eris had kidnapped Cadmus in the Spiritlands-feeding him a love potion to make him think that he loved her. I never had a chance to confront her about that because the Fates had enslaved her and in fact, that was where she currently was now—trapped in an empty fire pit with them on Calypso’s island.

My fingers itched to carry out vengeance on this version of Eris… to scratch Morgan le Fey’s eyes out- to use my goddess strength and hurl her from the nearest balcony.

But I did not. I clenched my hands tightly at my sides instead, knowing that I was likely drawing blood with my fingernails. Contempt filled me up and I had to literally fight with myself to contain it.

What was Morgan doing in Arthur’s chamber? Especially disguised as my mother?

And then realization, a dark, hideous theory, dawned on me and I swallowed my own bile. Surely, even Eris wouldn’t… surely not. She didn’t sleep with her own brother disguised as Guinevere. That would be positively the worst thing I had ever known her to do.

But I knew that she was agitated with him. She and Arthur Pendragon shared the same mother. It was his father, Uther, who had the royal blood and Morgan had always resented him for that. When I was here last, I suspected her of sabotaging the king, but it had not been her who had ultimately done it. Or had she? Had she been involved all along?

The heavy bedchamber door interrupted my musings as it creaked open once again and Arthur stepped into the hall, his face flushed and golden hair disheveled.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

‚Ginny…' he began, using his pet name for Guinevere.

But at his voice, Morgan turned and Arthur saw her face- dressed in exactly the same clothing that he had just seen his wife wearing. The wife that he thought he had just made love to. If I had doubted that before, the look on his face clarified it for me.

‚What the…' he stuttered, reaching out to touch the hem of her nightgown’s bell sleeve. Confusion spun across his face and then revulsion as he realized the depths of his sister’s treachery. He took an automatic step backward. I imagined that his face mirrored my own from a moment ago, the picture of absolute horror.

‚Morgan…' he began and then trailed off. ‚What is the meaning of this?'

One thing about Arthur, regardless of the many times Morgan had given him pause or reason to doubt her, he always believed the best in her, as well as everyone else. He knew, along with the rest of the kingdom, that his sister had witch-like tendencies but he overlooked them out of loyalty to her. His idealistic ideas would eventually be his undoing. His good heart just couldn’t fathom that darkness truly did exist.

Morgan laughed and I heard Eris in the evil cackle that resonated down the empty hall. I flinched away from it as my heart broke for Arthur. He loved Guinevere to distraction. This would kill him and his face already spoke to that.

‚What have you done to me?' he whispered. ‚Why?'

She shrugged her bony shoulders. ‚Why not? You do not deserve all that you have, dear brother. Why does the simple matter of paternity determine our greatness?

We share the same mother, yet you are king. How is that fair?'

‚That is simply the way things are, Morgan,' he stated wearily. ‚You know that it is not something that I control.'

‚No,' she sneered. ‚But as king, you control everything else in this land. However, if your beloved subjects ever discover that you had a love affair with your very own sister, I fear that they shall turn from you, brother.'

She pasted an innocent look onto her face and I wanted to vomit.

‚You wouldn’t,' Arthur uttered. ‚Why would you?'

‚Don’t ever say that I
wouldn’t,
' Morgan smiled evilly. ‚Trust me, I would.'

Arthur was speechless as he stared at his sister. I saw every emotion possible roll across his face…betrayal, disgust, sadness. Morgan leaned forward, peering into the darkness. She shook her head in frustration and snapped her fingers. The torch nearest to her exploded into flames, licking at the stone wall.

Arthur gasped and I realized that while Morgan might not realize her true identity, she had certainly learned to tap into at least some of her goddess powers. My air sucked out of me. Perfect. I would have an unbalanced psychopath on my hands armed with immortal supernatural power. This night kept getting better and better.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

‚What, brother?' she grinned. ‚I just wanted to see your handsome face more clearly.' She stepped forward and trailed her fingers lightly across his cheek. He flinched away from her.

‚What?' she whispered into his ear as she ran her other hand across his chest. ‚You didn’t mind my touch a few minutes ago.'

‚I thought you were my wife,' he spit angrily. ‚Everyone knows of my love for Guinevere. No one will believe you.'

‚They’ll believe their own eyes, brother,' she replied, pulling something out of her robe pocket. Opening her hand, she revealed a small crystal globe. Tossing it onto the stone floor, it shattered and dark blue smoke filled the corridor. Out of the wispy tendrils, two figures emerged. Arthur and Morgan.

Clearly she had contrived this illusion, but it was very convincing as I watched the two smoky figures embrace. Reaching for each other, they kissed and allowed their hands to roam freely over each other’s body. Once again, I had to swallow my revulsion. As the two figures tumbled to the floor lovingly, I closed my eyes.

‚If you performed such a trick for anyone else, you would be burned as a witch,'

Arthur said calmly as we watched the illusion fade away. ‚Would you risk that?'

She laughed once again, a chilling, horrible sound. ‚You have no idea of the lengths I would go,' she replied.

Arthur’s shoulders slumped. There was no doubting the determined, unhinged look on Morgan’s face.

‚What do you want from me?' he asked dejectedly.

‚I’ll get back to you on that,' she promised. ‚Trust me.'

And she was gone. I glanced up and down the hall, but she had simply disappeared. I sighed. I still hated it when people did that. It was unsettling.

Arthur leaned against the wall for a moment, drawing in deep breaths and I found myself desperately wanting to hug him. He had been instantly immersed in madness and treachery. Most mortals would lose their minds. But he was strong and I watched him square his shoulders as he returned to his bedchambers.

I was just about to turn away as well and creep back to my own chambers, when I felt someone’s stare between my shoulder blades.

I turned and found Merlin, the king’s oldest advisor, standing in another darkened alcove. I could tell from his face that he had witnessed the same thing that I had. His wizened face was blank, but his eyes were bothered. And his eyes are what held me tightly to the ground- they were jet black and glittering from the shadows.

They were eyes that I had seen a thousand times before.

He was Ahmose.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

Chapter Five

I almost moved to meet him at goddess speed, but reminded myself that he didn’t know that I was now aware of who I truly was. It was difficult, but I forced my feet to walk at the slower mortal pace, meeting him in the middle of the great hall. The last time I had seen him had been when the Fates had tortured him to his death, something that he was not aware of now. It was mind bending.

‚My lady,' he nodded curtly. ‚What brings you out at this hour?'

‚I couldn’t sleep, Ahmose,' I murmured.

‚Never call me that here,' he reprimanded sternly. ‚You know that I am Merlin.

Do not be so careless, Heleyne.'

On his face, I saw almost fatherly concern and I wished that I had noticed it in other lives. I had always been annoyed by him, by his vague answers to my questions. I never knew that that he had been a simple pawn to the Fates. None of it had been his fault… and he had eventually given his life to save me.

I swallowed hard.

‚What troubles you?' he asked. ‚Is everything well with Lucan? With the queen?'

I nodded. ‚Everything is well,' I whispered.

‚Then why do I see clouds on your face?' he asked. His eyes were razor sharp.

They missed nothing, a fact that I regretted right now. How was I going to get anything past him? He’d known me for several millennia.

‚I’m fine,' I murmured. ‚Just tired.'

He seemed to consider that, staring at me thoughtfully. I had to admit, it was strange to see him without his customary dark robes. As Merlin, he was wearing typical woolen pants, an embroidered shirt and a simple cloak. His ancient face was free of cosmetics- free from the black eye makeup that he usually favored.

‚Things are moving forward,' he observed, his eyes gazing over as he reflected.

‚The witch has tricked Arthur. Do you know what to do now?'

His gaze flickered to the Phoenix birthmark on my wrist. For thousands of years, the Fates had allowed me to believe that it marked me as a Keeper for them, meaning that I was meant to keep their grand plans. But in reality, it marked me as the Chosen One, the one who would eventually right the wrongs of Fate. I had only discovered this recently, after Ahmose had died.

I nodded. I did remember from my first time here.

‚Yes. Guinevere must draw closer to Lancelot. I don’t think that will be a problem.'

I considered my parents. Keeping them apart was definitely not a problem.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

Merlin smiled. ‚Go back to bed then, little keeper. We have much work ahead of us in the near future.'

I turned and began my trip down the darkened hall, not stopping until I reached the opposite end. I glanced over my shoulder, but Merlin was already gone. I crept back to my room and silently slipped into bed with Lucan. He still slept blissfully unaware of the peril that we were faced with in our true lives. I sighed and closed my eyes.

* * *

Something tickled my face and I cringed, turning into my pillows. Through my eyelids, I felt the light invading my room and I was not in the mood for it. I had never been what you could honestly consider a morning person.

‚Wake up, beautiful,' Lucan murmured into my ear.

My eyes popped open.

His handsome face hovered over mine, his hair dangling into my face. I reached up and tucked it behind his ear as he dipped his head and kissed me.

After I caught my breath, I murmured, ‚Aren’t you supposed to be with the other men?' The knights from the Roundtable spent every morning jousting, running drills and performing strength training.

‚Are you saying that I’m a layabout?' he asked with a grin. As always, his smile took my breath away and I inhaled a shaky breath.

‚Of course not, my love,' I assured him. ‚I’m just surprised to find you still here.

You’re usually long gone by the time I wake.'

‚So, then, who is the layabout?' he teased, stroking my arm lightly.

I watched the sun’s rays bathe him as he moved and was hard-pressed to decide who shone more brightly: Lucan or the actual sun. He twisted into a sitting position, reaching over to grab his shirt from the nightstand.

‚Must you go?' I whispered. He looked at me questioningly.

‚Of course, my sweet. There are things to be done. But I shall see you later today,'

he promised. He finished dressing as I watched and dipped to kiss me goodbye.

‚I’ll see you at dinner,' he murmured, his lips grazing my cheek.

And then he was gone. I dropped back onto the pillows with a sigh. I could stay with him all day long and never complain. Once I returned to the Spiritlands with the sword and brought Cadmus back to me, I vowed to do just that. I would never let him out of my sight again.

I dressed myself in another heavy velvet gown, pulling my hair into a simple knot at the nape of my neck and shoving my feet into thin slippers. After applying lip stain to my lips, I left my chambers in search of my mother.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

The halls of the palace were bustling now, a far cry from the emptiness that I had encountered last night. House servants rushed about cleaning, delivering fresh linen and laying clean rushes on the floors. Every window was wide open and the fresh air blew gently through the corridors. I glanced down from one of them, absently scanning the gardens below, and was surprised to find my mother and father sequestered in a dark nook in the courtyard.

I shook my head in annoyance. What were they thinking? If I could see them, anyone looking down from this level could. I picked up my pace and worked my way down to the ground floor as quickly as I could, being careful to not trip on my long skirts.

Rushing around the final corner, I found that they were still together. My father had her smashed against his hard chest and was stroking one large hand through her hair, all the while staring lovingly into her eyes. My ire rose even higher, but to my frustration, I found that I wasn’t the only one that had discovered them.

Across the courtyard, in another darkened nook, I saw someone else, a man who I didn’t know, watching the queen and Lancelot with interest as he peeled an apple. His dark eyes met mine from across the courtyard and a tiny smile tilted his lips as he gave me a small salute, the knife still in his hands.

My pulse took off like a rocket and I hurried to where my mother and father stood.

‚What are you doing?' I hissed. ‚Anyone can see you- in fact, someone has!'

Lancelot seemed unconcerned as he glanced around.

‚Where, daughter?' he asked. ‚I see no one.'

I pointed into the direction of the stranger and stopped. My father was correct. The stranger was gone. My heart continued to beat furiously in my chest.

‚What if he goes straight to Arthur?' I asked anxiously. ‚You cannot be found out this way.'

‚Or what?' he leveled a calm gaze at me. ‚You are still thinking as though you are a Keeper of Fate. You know that you are not,' he admonished. ‚We do not bow to the whims of the Fates.'

‚Ares,' my mother interrupted gently, laying a hand on his arm. ‚There is no reason to change anything that happened here. We should do our best to simply find the sword and leave this place as we found it.'

She looked lovely today in a peach colored flaunt and ivory underskirt. The overskirt was delicately threaded with webs of tiny pearls. An external corset was tightly laced up at the back and I had to wonder if my father had helped her dress this morning, since I knew that I had not. Her chestnut hair gleamed in the light as she ducked her head toward me, ignoring Lancelot’s grumblings.

‚I’m sorry, my sweet,' she apologized, reaching out to stroke my cheek. ‚We didn’t think that anyone could see us. We’ll be more careful.'

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

‚That is the problem,' I muttered. ‚You didn’t think. And please don’t refer to my father as Ares. He is Lancelot here.'

She smiled good-naturedly, not bringing up the fact that here in Camelot, she was queen and I should not be so mouthy. She was accustomed to my cheekiness, however.

I had never managed to overcome it in any life that we had ever lived.

She linked her arm with mine. ‚Come,' she soothed me. ‚Let us find some breakfast.' I allowed her to lead me from the flowering gardens, but I couldn’t resist a parting shot at my father.

‚You’re late for morning drills,' I called over my shoulder. I could hear him laughing as we rounded the corner and I rolled my eyes.

My mother and I made our way to the main banquet hall, smiling at each curtsying well-wisher along the way. Everyone in this kingdom was enamored with Guinevere.

As always, she had retained her customary charm in this life. Most people clamored to please her.

As we entered the heavy double doors, I took in the festive breakfast atmosphere.

The long tables were lined with rows of candles, ribbons and vivid purple violets, King Arthur’s favorite. The candles were as yet unlit- they were saved for dinner this evening. There were also massive chandeliers made from candles hanging over head, ready for lighting at night fall. Right now, though, the morning sun provided quite enough light, even in this darkened room.

Guinevere took a seat and before she could even move, servants had rushed to provide her with silverware, a linen napkin and a plate of steaming breakfast. I shook my head. It wasn’t merely the fact that she was queen that made people fall in love with her. It was her charm,
Aphrodite’s
charm. She smiled a brilliant grin at the servant in front of her and dug into her plate with relish.

I waited patiently for mine to arrive, which it did several minutes after Guinevere’s.

Soft white bread, thick peppered bacon slices and warm venison were piled high on the pewter plate in front of me and my mouth watered. I was ravenous.

What I wouldn’t give for some nectar from the Spiritlands, but I settled instead for tepid milk in a heavy mug. Thick cream topped it off and I felt the cool foam stick to my upper lip. My breakfast wasn’t ambrosia and nectar, but it would do.

As I gazed thoughtfully around the room, I examined the servants bustling about.

They all had contented expressions on their faces. They were happy to be working for Arthur, relieved to be safe within the protection of his castle. The kingdom outside of these walls was in a state of unrest and had been for decades. In addition to attacks from beyond our borders, there were even worries of being attacked on the roads by thieves and vagrants. Arthur was doing his best to reign that kind of behavior in and he had made great strides, but it did still exist.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

But the servants here in the castle’s compound had nothing to fear. I stared out the nearest open window and watched the knights from the roundtable and Arthur himself practicing hand-to-hand combat. They were without their armor this morning and many of them were shirtless, their tanned skin already glistening in the early morning heat. All of them were perfectly toned, a testament to their physical prowess. Not a soul in the kingdom wanted to face these knights in battle.

I sought out my soul mate and found him sparring with Arthur’s brother, Kay. I smiled. Out of all of the knights, besides Lancelot and Lucan, Kay was probably my favorite. Good-natured and strong, he stood a head taller than even Lucan. He always had a smile and a good word for everyone, something that I appreciated. Even in a dire or bleak circumstance, Kay attempted to put everyone around him at ease.

Behind them, I saw Gawain, Arthur’s nephew, going hand-to-hand with Tristan. It seemed strange to refer to him as Arthur’s nephew, because since Arthur’s sister was so much older than he was, he and Gawain were the same age. Gawain’s younger brother, Gareth, was fighting with the king by the edge of the courtyard lawns.

Arthur, a superior swordsman, was clearly letting the younger knight gain the upper hand and he laughed as he began to hold Gareth at bay.

‚Young pup,' he laughed, ‚You must use your legs to anchor you. They’re stronger than your arms!'

Gareth growled and lunged again, errantly trying to use his forearms to hold off the King’s advances. He wasn’t strong enough and Arthur easily toppled him to the ground. Laughing again, Arthur reached a hand down to help him up.

Gareth shook his head good-naturedly as Arthur slapped him on the back. As they rough-housed and joked with the others, I turned my attention back to my mother. I found that she was watching me with a gentle expression.

‚They’re beautiful, aren’t they?' she observed, shifting her gaze to the knights outside. I nodded in agreement.

‚But we aren’t here to appreciate them, are we?' she asked, leveling her dark gaze at me. I shook my head with a sigh.

‚We must find the sword,' she needlessly reminded me. ‚And I know where it is.

But the problem will be… getting it.'

I stared at her in confusion. ‚What do you mean? It’s right there.' I gestured toward Arthur’s hand where Excalibur, his famous sword, gleamed. Guinevere stared at me with raised eyebrows.

‚Harmonia, that isn’t the sword that he pulled from the stone. Think back.'

And at her words, I did remember. The sword from the stone and Excalibur were two separate swords. And the king didn’t use the sword that he had pulled from the stone. Merlin had decreed that whoever pulled it from the stone would be the rightful king of Camelot and of course, Arthur had done so… all according to Fate’s plan.

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With My Last Breath, Book Three

He kept that sacred sword safe. Excalibur had been a gift and was the sword that he used in battle and in practice. I sighed.

‚So where is it?' I asked. ‚I don’t recall that part.'

‚I’m not certain,' she admitted, ‚It’s not public knowledge, of course, and he hasn’t mentioned it to me. But I believe it to be at his parents’ home. He has spoken about a secret room where his father hid hundreds of books to protect them from invaders and looters. I would bet anything that he has hidden the sword there as well. No one would think to look there.'