I smile, in spite of myself, roll my eyes to the ceiling, and exhale hard. "I'm going to need coffee for this."
Coffee obtained, which was a mistake because now my heart is beating twice as fast for no good reason. I decide to let it all spill out in roughly reverse chronological order. Morgan's eyes go wide when I mention Kai, then soften when I tell her aboutKingston, then... bug out of her head when I mention Callahan and Lanz, and then settle when I get all the way back to Lanz after that very first fencing meet.
"Well," she says, "that does change things a little."
"Does it?"
"I mean, look, Gwenna, I'm basically a one-girl background check on these guys. Kingston's my brother. Kai's practically my brother. I've known Lanz since I was like 14 and Callahan"—she glances at the door—"I mean, Cal is a cinnamon roll. He's so pure. He'stoopure." She frowns. "Are you really going to corrupt him?"
"I'm not corrupting anyone!” A flush creeps up my cheeks and I grip the sides of the chair. "That's not what this is about."
“Fine, fine.” Morgan waves a hand. “But you get what I mean. I think you could do a lot worse, a lot lot worse. They are, on the whole, good people. No red flags. I would absolutely tell you. But I also think..."
She gets up from the couch, sits next to me on the floor, cups my two hands between hers. "I think you can't just do this because they need you to, Gwenna. You should only do it if you actually want to. They've done a lot, and, well, sometimes they have to live with the consequences of mistakes."
I nod, and for one brief moment, I let myself consider it. Being with them, spending time with them, seeing them every day, touching them, kissing them. My breathing gets hard and fast.
"Yeah," I say softly, "I just…I don't know. Things like this just don't happen. Or, I guess they do, but…not to me.”
Morgan gives my hands a little pat.
"Well, ifthat'syour only objection, then no. I refute it on all grounds. You're lovely, Gwenna. Too good for all four of us combined. And well…” She shrugs, getting to her feet. “Stranger things do happen. You've literally seen it."
She leans forward and kisses the top of my head. "You'll figure it out. I know you will."
After that,it feels tense and strange to come to Emrys' class, where I know Kingston is waiting for me, and I know, and he knows, that I have not yet given them an answer. I still don't know. Morgan made good points, and I just, I don't want to have to think about it. I don't want that responsibility. I just want to sit here and do my reading and spout off about my silly little theory.
And that's what I can do. That is, after all, why I'm here, at least in this class. "Professor," I say as I set my things down, "I have a theory." Across from me, Kingston looks up, sets down his pen, attentive. Emrys inclines his head. "Oh?"
Again, I give the rundown as best I can. The figure of Caritas, the force of viriditas she wields.
“It'sgreenbecause it's growing. Fertile. It brings things back to life, which is a lot of what the grail was supposed to do,” I say. “Except in this case, when Hildegard writes about it, it’s?—”
“A person,” Kingston says.
“Awoman,” I correct. “And she wields this sort of…other force that exists outside the Holy Spirit or divine will or anything like that. It’s…” I flip through the pages, unable to find the exact phrase I'm looking for, and paraphrase. “The power of plants to bring forth leaves and…stuff like that. The return of spring. The natural cycles of the seasons.” I look up at Emrys. "Weren't there some ancient Celtic beliefs around that? Like pre-Christian, about one person who would restore the land? Something like that?”
Emrys nods, delight dancing in his eyes. "Oh yes. The Wooing of Etain, Baile in Scáil…” He gets to his feet, tapping a finger to his lips. "I haven't got the text here, but I can fetch them. I think you're onto something." He gives me an avuncular smile. "I'll be just a moment."
Then he leaves us alone.
Well, great.My excitement ebbs a bit and I am suddenly very aware of the fact that Kingston and I are alone in this classroom.
I chew my bottom lip, tap my foot anxiously. Kingston's steadily reading and writing. Me, I don't really want to dive into something new until I can figure out this existing theory. It’s taking up too much space in my brain, buzzing like a neon sign.
So instead, I glance at Kingston, glance at the chalkboard, glance back. "What are you reading?" I ask.
"Grail legends," he says, careful, neutral. "Chrétien de Troyes’ Perceval."
“I see.” I fidget with my pen. "Anything interesting?"
Kingston flips through his notes, frowning
“The Grail is said to have come from the castle of the Fisher King,” he says. “A haunting, crumbling structure in the middle of a wasteland. When the Grail quest is complete, and it is returned, the Fisher King will be healed, and the wasteland returned to life.”
“I see.” I glance at his folio of texts. “And that’s…what all that is about?”
Kingston shakes his head. “Supplementary stories as well. I’ve just made it to the wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle, actually.” He’s still not looking at me, but he's speaking very clearly. “Have you read that one?”
