Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
I could mix a poultice for foot pain. I could recover dense stones from the depths of the sea. I could block a lance astride a horse. Spar with daggers. Swing a mace. I could read Greek, maneuver an astrolabe, set a table, hit a bull’s-eye. I could play the fiddle. I could sing.
I could not sleep.
Time had always moved strangely for me, but now it seemed to be slipping out of my grasp.
I could see now that there were dark tendrils within me.
Little sprouts of madness that, if nourished by fear and uncertainty, could easily ensnare my mind.
Viviana was due back in a few days, and I longed for her stabilizing presence.
Until then, I’d have to manage the uncertainty through a mix of Bagotta’s techniques and visits to the lake.
I left my bed and snuck to the stables. I was about to bridle Blake when I heard a voice behind me.
“Where are you going?”
It was Galehaut. In my rustling haste to sneak out, I must have awakened him.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“I can see that much.” If he was trying to get me in trouble, I didn’t have the energy to care. But he sounded neither suspicious nor angry.
“I know you slip out at night like this,” he said. “Where do you go?”
My face flushed in the dark.
“I like to clear my head.”
Galehaut stepped closer, patted Blake.
“You go into the forest. Is it a part of your training?”
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
“The prophecy then?”
“No, I… I do not know.”
“You do not know?”
He was right next to me now, tracing my eyes for the truth.
“Where I go is solely for me.”
The words flew out, harsher than I’d intended. Galehaut stepped back. “I’m sorry I followed you.”
“No, I must’ve woken you. It is my fault.”
He turned to leave and I could’ve let him. I could have ignored the expanding chasm between us, I could have let our friendship run its course. Instead, I heard my voice calling out.
“Galehaut. Wait.”
I watched his confusion as we climbed behind the waterfall. In the cave he reached for my arm. He seemed almost nervous.
“This is where you come?” he asked. “It is such a long way for a simple cave.”
I knew I was breaking the rules by bringing him here. The sisterhood would erupt if they found out. But I would’ve done anything to bridge the growing distance between us. “Just wait,” I said.
When the lake washed into view, he gasped.
“Of all the wonders on the Isle of Women,” he marveled, “this is the one I pondered about the most. Viviana’s namesake. The Lady of the Lake. I never imagined I’d get to see it. Does the sisterhood know you come here?”
“They reluctantly permit me.”
“I won’t ask if they’d permit me.”
“I won’t either.”
We sat on the crescent-shaped shore, taking in the ivy walls, the fresh haze of stars, the calming glow of the water. I could feel the awkwardness between us lifting.
“I am sorry,” he said. “About the other day. I do not wish for us to have conflict.”
“Nor did I.”
“I do not have many friends.”
“What? Of course you do.”
He looked down at his hands. In all his stories of Giant’s Island, Galehaut always moved among a bubbling pack of comrades. I pictured him at the center of a joyful abundance, an upbringing at odds with my own.
“I have my sister, Delice,” he said. “But that is it. I am known as the Haut Prince. They treat me with reverence because I am Bagotta’s son. But they do not know me.”
“But all the stories—”
“Are just stories. I was trying to impress you.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. He was trying to impress me?
“Why?”
“Because. Look at you.”
I did not know what to say to this. I could only look at him. He removed his boots and dug his toes into the sand, drifting into a state of vulnerable contemplation. You have been lonely like me, I thought. You did not fit in.
The watery shadows danced across his face, simultaneously sharpening and softening his features. I watched as the competing layers of his beauty coalesced before me into something half human, half divine.
He rested his arms on his knees and stared up at the constellations.
“I wish I could live many lives at once,” he said suddenly.
“Don’t you? In one life, for example, I would return home and live out my days among my mother and sister.
In another, I would take to the sea and sail to faraway lands and meet new people.
In another, I’d be a scribe in a great library, living a quiet life of books.
In another, perhaps I’d go to Camelot and join their brotherhood.
I’d win glory and renown and the bards would sing of me forever. ”
He rubbed his fingers over his knuckles. He kept his eye trained on the lake.
In another life you are with me.
“Gale. I want to show you something.”
We climbed a ledge on the rock wall and peered down at the sword. Viviana’s words echoed in my mind. Everyone knows of our hidden lake, but hardly anyone knows of the sword at its center.
Galehaut would know. Galehaut would know everything. He would know everything because I would tell him. I would always tell him everything. I had been walled off by secrets my entire life. I would have none with him.
I explained how the sword worked. The bubbles, the light, the revelations.
“Will it work for me?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Each time I come, the visions shrink a little. I fear I’m somehow draining it.”
“I would just drain it further,” he said.
“Maybe not. Maybe it will be different for you.”
He shot me a roguish smile and lifted off his tunic.
In profile I could see the straps of his shoulders, the smooth indents of his V-shaped stomach.
I did not feel right looking too long, but he did not seem to mind.
He removed his tights and breeches and stood naked, casually covering himself with one hand, less out of modesty than habit. The sight made me stir.
He gave a whooping shout as he plunged into the lake.
“Well?” he called up to me. “Aren’t you coming in?”
I tossed off my clothes, self-conscious. At the beach, out of consideration for the sisterhood, we never swam naked.
I jumped in and he treaded over to me.
“Are you sure I am meant to do this? What if I hold the sword and the mountain collapses?”
“If that happened, the sisterhood would not be pleased.”
He splashed me. “What if I hold the sword and do not like what I see?”
“You might not,” I explained. “I saw my parents’ deaths. I felt them dying. But somehow it was not as awful afterwards. I felt closer to them.”
I could tell he was wavering. I did not want to pressure him. If anything, I shared his apprehension. What if Galehaut saw memories of Cymidei? What if such a vision made him happy? I would be shattered, but at least I would know.
He gave me a piercing look. He took a deep breath. Then he dove under.