CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #3
Once in my chamber, I turned the pendant over in my fingers. The liquid inside glowed faintly with that strange light. It was beautiful—but beauty in Camelot, I was learning, often hid sharper edges.
I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust her.
I wrapped the chain carefully, and kneeling down beside my bed, I lifted the loose floorboard I'd noticed earlier and hid the necklace in the dark space beneath.
For all I knew, she was planning on eavesdropping on my slumber.
Whatever her intention, I wasn't going to take a chance with the blasted thing.
With the pendant secured beneath the floorboard, I let out a breath, feeling the weight of its potential treachery pulling sharply against my chest. Camelot had already given me enough secrets to choke on—I had little interest in adding an unknown piece of magic to the list.
And now—to release the disguise of Sir Lioran—something I'd been looking forward to all evening. Once I returned to my true self, I felt as if I could breathe again. As I undressed and climbed into bed, exhaustion tugged at me, but my mind refused to quiet.
Merlin had painted Camelot as a place of fear—a court where magic was hunted, its people ruled by suspicion and steel. But what I found instead was a nest of shifting loyalties and concealed agendas, where those who truly knew the shape of power rarely wore crowns or carried swords.
Elenora. Lady Isolde. Even Percival. All of them were part of a court that moved like a school of fish—each one glittering, each direction unpredictable.
And Arthur?
He'd been drawn for me in simple lines—enemy, tyrant, monster. But now… now those lines blurred. The man I saw in the Labyrinth wasn't the soulless villain I’d been warned about.
More troubling still were the doubts I now had coiling around Merlin himself. Was his version of the truth truly complete? Or had he, too, shaped me as a tool for his own ends, as Arthur had said?
The Labyrinth had opened more than doors. It had opened cracks in my certainty. In my mission. In myself.
-GUIN-
I woke up in a cold sweat.
My heart pounded as the remnants of the dream—no, the nightmare—clung to my mind.
I could still feel the call of the dream lingering like phantom fingers tracing along my spine.
It was a relentless pull toward the lake that seemed to tug at something deep within me, drawing me toward those whispering waters and the mesmerizing viridian glow of Excalibur where it rested beneath the surface.
The Lady had appeared, rising from the lake's center like moonlight given form, her beauty both terrible and magnificent.
Her voice was a symphony of chiding notes that seemed to resonate from the water itself, each word echoing with demands for duty and destiny that I'd never asked for and desperately wished to escape.
"You must claim your destiny, Guinevere," she'd said.
"I am not a queen," I'd whispered in response.
And I repeated the words now, in the darkness of my bedchamber, as if I needed to reaffirm them. Then I sat there as my heartbeat slowed, each thump a refusal of a destiny—a fate for which I wanted no part.
And yet, the gentle persuasion of my own water magic coursed through me—an incessant ripple beneath my skin, as though it was desperate to return to the lake.
It was as if the water within me wanted to bond with the water of the lake, as if it were trying to draw me out of my chamber, across Camelot's grounds to the wild that existed beyond the twisted trees.
I sucked in a lungful of cool air and focused on the rustle of leaves beyond my window. Gradually, my breaths steadied, and the haunting voice of the Lady of the Lake faded from my mind, leaving only the night around me, bearing silent witness.
"Hoot, hoot."
At the sound of an owl, I turned to face the window and was pleased to see the same owl that had visited me before. Standing, I walked to the window and opened it.
"Hello." My voice was soft as I didn't want to frighten the beautiful creature away.
"Hoot. Hoot."
I felt a smile break across my face as the owl stared at me, and I stared back at it.
Then it spread its wings, launching from the perch of the tree.
As I watched, it glided through what little air separated us and settled onto the sill of my window.
Carefully, I stepped back, giving the beautiful creature space.
I didn't want to scare it away. The owl's large eyes met mine, and it stretched its wings out before pulling them back into the warmth of its body.
"Hoot. Hoot."
"Welcome to my chamber window," I murmured. "You're welcome to stay as long as you’d like."
The owl blinked slowly, as if considering my offer, its gaze thoughtful and wise. I held my breath, reverent in the shared silence, finding solace in the simple presence of this unexpected guest.
Its feathers rustled gently in the night breeze, and even though it was silly, it almost seemed as if the creature could understand me.
I couldn't help but feel a kinship with this silent sentinel, a reminder of the wilderness beyond Camelot's rigid walls that held mystery and magic still untouched.
"Well," I murmured, swiping damp hair from my forehead. "You've been there a while, haven't you, watching me wrestle with dreams and shadowed fates?"
The owl blinked, shifting slightly but holding my gaze as I approached. It didn't appear to be afraid of me.
"Tell me, do you know anything about dreams?" My voice held a teasing lilt because, of course, the creature couldn't respond. There was something comforting about talking to it, though, all the same.
"You need a name—I don't want to keep referring to you as 'it.'"
The owl just blinked up at me.
"Well, the first line of business is to decide whether you're a boy or a girl." I studied the owl for a moment or two before nodding. "You look like a boy to me."
"Hoot."
I took that to be an answer in the affirmative.
"Okay, very good. I think I shall call you… Peep."
"Hoot."
I took that as another affirmative.
The name seemed fitting, with his handsome plumage and wise demeanor. If anything, it was almost comforting to speak to a creature that required no answers—one that simply existed and observed.
"I am happy to meet you, Peep."
I ran a finger over the windowsill next to where he was perched. Peep remained silent, his presence an unspoken affirmation—and perhaps that was enough for me tonight. There lay solace in our silly exchange, a quiet understanding despite the chaos swirling through my life.
The pull to the lake and its seductive promise still thrummed softly at the edge of my mind.
I might have rejected the prospect of crown and kingdom, but I had a feeling the Lady of the Lake wasn't going to give up so easily.
What was more, I had a feeling this dream I'd just had was no dream at all, but a calling.
Whatever it was, I refused to be shackled by inherited roles or whispered destiny.
My path was mine to forge—through choice.
As the night ebbed away, I leaned beside Peep, gazing out at the night sky, a tapestry stitched with stars. If Peep knew anything of such dreams—or the tangled web of decisions that led to futures unwanted—he gave no indication. Given his tenure at my window, perhaps that was answer enough.
I smiled softly, my resolve unwavering even as the shadows lengthened and closed around me once more. Dreams might beckon, and fate with them, but I controlled my own journey. I’d hold the line against the siren song of the lake and its mythical blade, whatever price that choice required.