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.
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.