I sighed. Even though they were very aware of the importance of our quest here and I knew they were completely committed to it, I also knew that my parents sometimes didn’t quite grasp the consequences of their actions. As Olympians, they only answered to Zeus and he was currently missing.
As I rounded a corner and turned into a narrow back hall, I heard whispering coming from a room to my right. My curiosity piqued, I poked my head inside the door. It was a small chapel. An altar stood in the front of the room while a massive stone cross leaned against the wall behind it. The cross was so large and heavy, that if it ever tipped over, it would crush anyone in its path.
Heavy wooden benches created rows and the atmosphere was calm and reverent.
The room was empty but for one person in the front, kneeling at the foot of the cross.
Arthur rested on his knees, his head bowed as he rapidly whispered prayers, a golden crucifix in his large hands.
The light poured in the one window, shining onto his golden curls. Sitting inside that ray of sunshine, he almost seemed angelic. Large and strong, with his sword lying at his side, he appeared as a handsome archangel. His face was creased with worry, however, and his eyes were squeezed tightly closed.
My slippered foot scraped against the stone floor ever so softly as I slipped into the room, but it made enough noise that Arthur heard it. His eyes sprang open and he stood, Excalibur gripped tightly in his hand as he turned.
When he saw me, his expression relaxed and I saw that in addition to worry, he seemed sad as well. His blue eyes were haunted and instantly brought to mind the exchange that I had witnessed between him and Morgan.
It was torturing him. That much was obvious.
"Heleyne," he greeted me in surprise. "I thought I was alone."
"Your highness," I curtsied. "You were. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I apologize." I started to back out of the room, but he held up his hand.
"No, stay," he requested quietly. "I could use some company. Please join me."
His shoulders slumped as he slid into the front pew, as though they held the weight of the world. I instantly felt sorry for him. My nature as the goddess of contentment Courtney Cole 39
With My Last Breath, Book Three
made me more sensitive to the pain of others than the average person, but anyone could see the agony etched on this man’s face. My stomach tightened in response as I padded down the aisle to sit next to him.
"Your highness, are you alright?" I asked softly, staring into his face. He gazed at the ground in front of us, absently fidgeting with the handle of Excalibur. The rubies embedded within the hilt glittered in the light and threw red spots on the wall next to us.
"I am not sure," he admitted finally. "I will be, I’m sure, because I always am. But I am tormented by something. I wish to speak to someone, to draw wise counsel from someone, and yet there is no one that I can turn to with this trouble. You cannot imagine how that feels, can you, Heleyne?"
He turned his pained eyes to me and my heart broke, because they were red and watery. He was in pain and there was nothing I could do for him.
"Your highness… I…" I didn’t know what to say. I decided to break rules of etiquette and picked up his hand, squeezing it softly. He allowed the contact and seemed to draw some comfort in it.
"You’re bound by oath," he pondered, staring thoughtfully at my face. "I could confide in you and you would be unable to share what I tell you with anyone, not even my wife."
I nodded silently. It was true. Anyone who had confessed fealty to the king was bound by oath.
"But I realize how close you are to my wife," he added, slumping once more, "So, I won’t ask you to listen."
Pain emanated from him and I longed to hug him, to try and absorb some of his sorrow so that he didn’t have to carry it alone, but that was impossible. For a man of great honor, breaking his marriage vows, even unknowingly, was a great sin. I knew his heart was shattered and I knew that I couldn’t alleviate that.
"What of Merlin?" I asked. "Can you not confide in him?"
"No," he answered softly. "I cannot. Not about this."
"Very well," I replied. "Please, your highness. Tell me anything you wish. I can see that you need to unburden. I am loyal to you and I will share what you tell me with no one, not even the queen. I hope that I am able to help you."
"Truly?" he asked, appraising me quietly. "I do not wish to overburden you."
"It will not be a burden," I answered confidently. "I wish to help."
My words opened a dam. For the next half an hour, King Arthur spilled his heart to me on the front pew of the chapel. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he spoke and more than once, I reached up to wipe them away. He was filled with sadness and I could not fix it. But I could hold his hand and listen.
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"My soul is sick," he concluded. "I feel physically ill at what I have done and I cannot get over it. It is constantly in my mind, even when I should be thinking of matters of this kingdom. I have wronged my wife so completely. I have gone against nature. I am a monster."
My heart wrenched in two. How could I not comfort such a man? He was good and kind and loyal. For the Moirae to have played with his fate, to have manipulated it into this twisted situation was just wrong. And I found, in this moment, that I couldn’t comply with it.
"If you just speak with Guinevere," I suggested softly, "If you just tell her what has happened, I am certain that she will forgive you. This was not your fault. You would never have willingly done such a thing. Guinevere knows your heart, your highness.
She loves you."
And she did. My mother had a fondness for him as did everyone else who knew him. It was impossible not to.
"But I cannot," he answered in resignation. "To do so, to admit to Queen Guinevere what has happened, would be to sign my sister’s death warrant. No matter what she has done, I do not think I can do that. I cannot burn her at the stake as a witch. I could not live with myself."
"But yet… you cannot live with yourself now, for something that Morgan has done to you?" I raised my eyebrows. "My king, you are good and kind. Everything knows this. Your sister, please forgive me for saying so, is using your own traits against you.
She knows that you will not want to harm her, even after she has harmed you."
"Knowing of my sister’s manipulative ways does not change my heart," he replied tiredly. "Replacing one wrong with another does not make anything right."