Chapter 10 #2
An involuntary flush spread across her face, the first true intrigue she had given me. It was rare for Ninianne not to have complete control of her body.
“What ‘others’?” I said. “Since when do you hold concern for anyone beyond yourself and Arthur?”
She didn’t reply, but our connection quivered with a new sensation—fear, mixed with stubborn courage, and a bursting need to express herself. She wanted desperately to share what she felt, and to keep her secrets close.
“Something is different with you,” I pressed. “Your heart beats too fast. You wear uncertainty like a sable cape. At Merlin’s, you told me you had been busy abroad. What has changed, Ninianne?”
Another pause stretched between us. I was about to turn away when her voice came, halting, unsure.
“I—I am a mother,” she confessed. “Since Merlin’s death, I’ve been away from Britain, living in seclusion. Raising a son.”
I would not have guessed it given five thousand chances. “How? Can you—?”
“No,” she cut in. “The markings on my thighs, my own protective charms, remain unbreakable. I still cannot lie with a man and beget a child that way.”
“Then how did you…beget one?”
Her face took on a dreamy look. “He came to me as if brought by an angel. Or as if he were the angel, bestowing himself upon my heart. A child of twelve—a born prince—well aware of his own mind, able to choose me as his guardian. For ten years now he has let me love and guide him.”
Her reverence was like nothing I had seen, a lavish sort of poetry I didn’t think possible in her. It was overwrought, unmoored, irrational—it was human.
“I’m not sure I understand,” I said.
“It was during the resurgence of war in Benoic. His father was slain; his mother claimed sanctuary in a convent. He was running from armed men and found himself trapped at the edge of my lake. I didn’t think—I just gathered him into my arms and took him into the water, to my home, where they could not reach us.
I kept him safe, gave him all I could, until he was ready to venture into the world. ”
When the weight of her words hit me, the pain was rib-crushing. She had gained a son with the same speed that I had been deprived of both of mine.
“Are you…happy?” I asked.
“More than I’ve ever been,” she said. “The day he first called me ‘Mother’…I never knew my soul could soar until then.”
I could not bear to hear any more, yet I could not stop. “Where is he now?”
“He has taken knighthood in Camelot,” she said. “My son has suffered much heartache, but his honour runs deep and his talents are prodigious. He wishes to be the greatest knight this kingdom has ever known, and he will succeed. He will carve his name upon this world.”
“Benoic is still a country of influence,” I said. “What of his family, his titles?”
“He knows who he is, but has chosen to set it aside. Before he left our home, he asked if he could take my name.” Her light grew until she held the pride of summer sun. “He is of the Lake now.”
Bitterness rose in my throat, but I would not give her the satisfaction of my undoing. Defiance was all I had.
“Then I’m surprised this new happiness hasn’t given you greater perspective,” I said harshly. “Yet here you are, begging favours, prostrating yourself for selfish kings.”
Her light surged in annoyance. “Always you accuse me of not having my own mind. Of doing only what others demand.”
“You know what they say, Ninianne. If it slithers along the ground and hisses with a forked tongue, most likely it is a snake.”
“I am no snake,” she said. “Nor anyone’s servant. You of all people know that—or Merlin would still be alive.”
It silenced me as always, the undeniable enormity of what she had done.
“That choice I made alone,” she added. “Even if no one will ever understand it.”
But I understood, and she knew; perhaps I was the only one who did. To my mind, she had ended Merlin’s reign of control, she was justified, and I would never claim otherwise.
“Why did you do it?” I asked. “After all those years.”
She sighed, relenting. “I could tolerate my own life, but his actions in pursuit of the prophecies, what he did to ensure things happened as he thought they must—it was never easy to bear. What he visited on you alone…It had to come to an end. For good.”
I regarded her sharply. She was speaking of my stolen child, her involvement, which she insisted was a trick of Merlin’s. She saw my resistance to her regret and looked away.
“It took years to plan,” she said. “I had to consider every angle, accept that a world without Merlin was less governed, more prone to the whims of the human heart—but a truer world, a freer one. I had to find the cave that would hold him, withstand his magic. Convince him to go there with me.”
“Weren’t you worried he might suspect?”
Her glow dimmed, as if someone had blown out a row of candles. “At times, Merlin had led me to believe he could read minds,” she said. “I was terrified.”
There was nothing I could say, haunted as I was too by memories of Merlin, his voice still in my head. Ninianne had risked herself and done what I had wanted to since childhood. In this she was a heroine.
I released my breath and she did the same, an echo containing every moment of our past.
“Your brother is a good man, Morgan,” she said quietly. “Whatever you insist on believing. Let him travel freely and fight the kingdom’s battles without your interference.”
Part of me wished I could just agree and let myself rest for a while. But I was fighting my own solitary war, and Ninianne was still on the opposing side.
“I don’t see why I would,” I replied. “I haven’t been offered a reason to agree. You know my terms for the Book of Prophecies. I cannot give it to you.”
“Just peace, then, for King Arthur to do what he must. What would it take?”
Her willingness to negotiate caught me unawares, but the answer came to me at once, clear as a falcon against a bright blue sky.
“Tell me of my sons,” I said. “Both of them. That is what it will take.”
“You know I can tell you nothing of the baby I delivered you of… ” Ninianne faltered, then understood what I was asking.
“Only that the charm of concealment still holds, regardless of Merlin’s death.
It was my magic, and I know its power. Yours and Sir Accolon’s child is promised a good, happy life, but you cannot—will not—ever meet. ”
I expected no other answer and believed her, but I had needed to make sure, one last time. “And Yvain?” I said. “What of his status now, his place in Arthur’s plans?”
Again she hesitated, the thought of her loyalties shadowing her face.
“Do not evade me,” I warned. “This brewing conflict is in the north—Yvain’s father will be called upon to fight. I need to know what will happen to the son I can hear about.”
She exhaled and I felt the guilt in her—another blossoming mortal trait—and a new affinity I never expected us to share: we were mothers.
“Yvain is squiring age,” she said. “Soon to be fourteen—you know that, of course. Given Camelot’s instability and the impending war, he has recently been sent to continue his knightly training in Garlot. To the royal residence there.”
“To Elaine?” I exclaimed. “My sister’s household?”
She inclined her head. “Queen Elaine and her husband have full care of him. They send reports to Camelot and his father, but aren’t otherwise overseen. That is all I know.”
It was more than I had hoped for, though the news split me inside, twin rivers of joy and agony. Yvain was with my family, but I still could not look upon his face.
“I have done my part,” Ninianne said. “Will you promise to keep King Arthur free of chaos?”
I glanced away, towards the path that led down into the shielded depths of my valley. How I wished to be alone again.
“You have my word,” I said. “Now leave my land and go back to your King.”