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“What if I couldn’t? Then I would be even more miserable,” I blurted out.
“More miserable?” Now it was Galahad’s eyes I could feel boring in on me. “Does the temple make you miserable?”
I was silent. Then, “Not being able to make my own choices in life makes me... Well, if not miserable then not particularly happy.”
There was quiet around our table.
“You’re both hopeless,” Lancelet finally said.
Hopeless reminded me of something else.
“Oh, that reminds me.” I fished around in my satchel and carefully pulled out the wrapped miniature.
I laid it on the table and pulled back the cloth.
Galahad gasped. “Who did that?”
“I did,” I lied, reluctantly. I was not about to tell them the truth. For the last four years I had managed not to share how bad things with Florian had become. They had enough to worry about in their own lives without having to always worry over me, too. Besides, I knew they would want me to go to Arthur. And I wasn’t about to do that. “I spilled ink over it.”
“That’s your mother’s portrait, isn’t it?” Lancelet murmured, peering at it. “I thought it always hung on your wall.”
“It does. It fell from its hook. Bad timing.”
I caught Lancelet and Galahad exchanging a glance.
“And you want me to try to fix it?” Galahad says.
“Can you?” I asked, trying to hide my desperation. “Even if it’s not perfect. If I can at least see her face...”
“I’ll take it back with me tonight, if I may. There’s another acolyte at the temple who is studying the art of the Three under one of the priests. He’s a wonderful painter. Merlin wants him to paint a new mural in the dormitories.”
“He sounds simply divine,” Lancelet purred, leaning forward and stressing every syllable emphatically.
Galahad coughed. “Yes, well. He is very skilled and he may be able to do something with this.” He met my gaze. “We are simply friends.” He rolled his eyes at Lancelet.
“Can’t the priestesses use their magic and clear it off for you?” Lancelet asked, frowning impatiently. “What is the point if they can’t even do something that simple?”
I had often wondered the same thing, but would never have said so aloud. Not in front of Galahad.
“You think that doing little tricks with spells and incantations is the point of serving the sacred Three?” Galahad asked, looking aghast. “That is not why we are there. Magic has little to do with it. Even if there was no magic left in any of the priests or priestess’ bloodlines at all, we would still serve the goddesses. The rites and rituals would remain the same. The meaning would still survive. The goddesses see and hear all, Lancelet.” He turned to me eagerly, that familiar look of avid faith in his brown eyes which always made me uncomfortable. “Pray to them tonight, Morgan. They will hear your prayers.”
I tried to compose my face. It was hard to know how to react when Galahad spoke with such piety. How could I tell him I didn’t pray at all?
Ever.
Would he tell Merlin? Would she even care?
“I will try,” I lied. “If you think it might help.”
Galahad beamed at me. “You are a princess of royal blood. I am sure the Three will favor your plea.”
“Oh, so they favor those with royal blood more than us regular humans? The goddesses play favorites?” Lancelet asked sarcastically.
Galahad’s face became pained. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” I said hurriedly. “I understand. I’m sure the goddesses are always fair. Thank you for taking it, Galahad. Please ask your friend... Please, try your best.”
I rose from the table, suddenly tired. The prospect of returning to my room without the picture of my mother was off-putting. I was always alone there, but now there wasn’t even a portrait watching over me.
