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I pushed the thought back. It was unworthy of us both.
But still, she had not come back. No one had come. Not for me.
“You are Lancelet de Troyes,” Merlin said. A finger lifted my chin up in the air. Merlin seemed to have no qualms about touching my face–or looking at it for that matter. Guinevere had not screamed in fright either. But then, she must have seen it before. I felt embarrassed to think of what she must have seen. What she must have heard.
“You are a knight of Camelot. Never forget that.”
“A knight?” I scoffed, pushing her hand away. “I was never knighted.”
“That will be remedied. All in good time. And the time draws near,” Merlin said calmly. “You are a warrior of Pendrath. Heed my words.”
She spoke not as herself but as the High Priestess, her voice low but commanding. A chill went through me as I heard the power of the goddesses.
“Very well,” I managed to say. I was not about to argue with her. Though I knew I was no knight and never would be. Not now.
Merlin smiled slightly. “You think knights bear no scars? That they possess no disfigurements? That they are pure and whole?”
Once again, I felt as if she had grasped my thoughts completely. It was a disarming sensation.
“They are pure,” I argued. “As I can never be again. Not now.”
Merlin’s expression turned shrewd. “We are never pure. Not in the sense you mean, Lancelet. Purity is a virtue best left to the goddesses. It is overrated in mortals. And each of us has our own idea of what it truly means. To some, it is a nightmare to be aspired to all in itself.”
“What do you mean?”
“The king demands purity,” she said, her face becoming weary once more. “He demands it in his temple. His version of it. Do you remember?”
I racked my mind swiftly. “Galahad...”
“He has returned,” Merlin said quietly. “He is in one of the dormitories. He has returned to serve amongst us, if not to take up the priesthood. That path remains forbidden to him.”
“Because he dared to love men once?” I cried. “Because he was brave enough to never deny it. Oh, the stupidity.”
“Yes.” Merin’s voice was sardonic. “No women or catamites–” She spoke the foul word with the fullest irony. “–may speak for the gods. So says our noble king. And yet other defilements are freely permitted.”
My eyes widened. “No women? But...”
“You forget I am no longer High Priestess, Lancelet. We have told you before. Perhaps this time...” She eyed me carefully. “Well, this time perhaps you will remember tomorrow.”
“How many times have you told me?”
She tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “I believe this will be the fifth. But think ahead to the morning. Make the prospect real in your mind. This time in the morning you will not have allowed yourself to forget again. You will rise from your bed and dress. You will go out into the garden. You will sit by the pool. No one will disturb you, I will see to that. You will feel the sun shine upon you. You will listen to the birds.” She cast a discerning look. “Perhaps Guinevere might join you for a while. She can share some of her story, if she chooses.”
The prospect of seeing the girl again brightened me more than the prospect of hearing birds sing.
Guinevere had reminded me of a bird. Soft and sweet. There had been something innocent about her.
“Perhaps,” I said. “But first, tell me more. Tell me everything. I swear, this time I will remember.”
“I believe you,” Merlin said steadily. And it gave me hope she did.
She smoothed the white samite of her skirt. “Where shall I begin? With Morgan?”
My heart beat faster. “You know where she is? Did she come back? Is she here?”
“No, she is not here. And I cannot say I know with certainty where she is. But I can tell you she is safe.”
My heart sank. “Is that all? How can you know?”
