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CHAPTER 9 - MORGAN
Iwalked slowly backthrough the covered walkways and past the gardens of fruit trees in the open courtyard. It was evening now, and the moon was beginning to come out from beneath a patch of frosty, white clouds.
“He got me out, you know.”
A woman’s voice. Soft but clear.
I looked around.
Guinevere stood beneath a cherry blossom tree, the golden owl still perched on her shoulder.
The tree’s slender, delicate, pink blossoms reached out like a dream, an unexpected beacon of beauty amidst the end-of-winter chill. The air was crisp where we stood in the open garden. A gentle breeze carried the scent of the blossoms over to me, whispering a promise of sweetness and warmth.
Short, chopped, brown curls framed a face lifted up to the darkening sky. The hues of her skin reminded me of warm amber and honey, telling the story of a lineage as rich and diverse as the fair land of Lyonesse from which she graced.
Guinevere took a step towards me, and the pale blue gown she wore rippled like a stream around her curving figure, a canvas of serenity that contrasted with the pink cascade of petals on the snow-tinged ground around her feet. Eyes like mahogany—warm and inviting, framed by dark, long lashes—looked back at me, reflecting the weight of countless trials and tribulations in their depths.
There was an air of quiet strength to Guinevere, but also an intensity that was disconcerting.
She licked her lips as if nervous. “I meant your uncle. Caspar.”
“My uncle...? He helped you to escape?” I had thought that if anyone had done it, it would have been Merlin.
“He is a good man,” she said simply.
I tried not to let any hint of skepticism show on my face.
“I hope you’re right.” I tried to smile at her.
I had wanted to speak to this strange girl, to learn more about her. But now that I was standing here, I had no idea where to begin. She owed me nothing. Yet I felt a weight of shame as I looked at her, as if I had harmed her myself.
“Merlin told me what happened to you at my brother’s hands. Very briefly—” I added quickly, seeing her stricken expression. Merlin had spared me most of the details, but it had been easy to get the horrifying picture. What terrible words I had chosen to use. I cringed, averting my eyes from her face. “I wish to tell you how terribly sorry I am for how you were treated,” I finished.
“You did nothing.”
“No, but it was my brother. My family. I cannot help but feel responsible.”
“Caspar Starweaver is your family, too, is he not? He helped me.”
“That is true, I suppose,” I admitted. They said two wrongs didn’t make a right. What did one wrong and one right make? Balance? “I’m very glad he did.”
“So am I.” She looked at me in silence for a moment. “I cannot imagine how betrayed Caspar must have made you feel by what he did.”
“Yes.” I shifted awkwardly.
“I, too, was betrayed by my family. My father gave me to your brother.” She looked away. “I was complicit in that part.” As complicit as a princess of the realm could be. I knew something about that. What she spoke of was not a true choice. Girls like us were supposed to marry where we were told, for the good of our families, for the good of our realms. “But the rest... Well. He’s dead now.”
Her father and brother had taken a terrible risk and paid the price. I wondered if they had known what would become of the daughter and sister they left behind. Had they even thought about what their failure would mean for her?
“What has happened to your people is inexcusable, Guinevere.”
“Yes.” She stared off into the little grove of trees. “As a child, one believes monsters live only in the pages of books. Then one grows up.”
“He... wasn’t always like this,” I stumbled, not sure why I was bothering to try to explain.
“But he’s always frightened you, hasn’t he?” she said, turning her head back towards me.
