Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [155]
“But—” he began, his voice rising a little in distress. And she knew what he was going to say. That she was still Arthur’s—oh, not necessarily by the laws of their gods, but certainly by the law of the land and of the Christian one. That Arthur would never give her up. That they had together betrayed Arthur, just as the second Gwenhwyfar had.
But the second Gwenhwyfar’s betrayal was because he loved her. He does not love me. He does not even want me.
And she was not going to lie here and try to counter all those things. Not though Arthur had “betrayed” her—because he surely could not have been so blinded by Gwenhwyfach that he didn’t realize she wasn’t his wife. Not that Arthur could be persuaded, she was sure, to give her up, so long as he could keep his precious horses.
Instead she stopped his protests with her lips and built the fire anew.
As dawn grayed the sky, she woke, and she knew they should move on, of course. They should leave this place in the first sun of the morning, and they should ride straight to Arthur’s villa. She knew it as the thin light of dawn penetrated the trees and filtered gently in through the broken wall of the house. She knew it as she listened to the birds sing, as she lay with her head propped up on one hand, watching him sleep. If they left now, they could pretend to themselves that last night had been a moment’s madness, the lust that came after battle. They could pretend to forget all the things that had been said, half said, and unsaid between them. If they left now, it would all be over, and she would go back to her joyless couplings, and he would slake his needs with whatever lady of the court or serving wench was willing.
And that . . . would be unbearable.
She considered her options, looked over what could be done as if she were planning a battle. A battle? No, a war. This would be a campaign. She would need to persuade so many people of so many things. First of all, the Ladies, that she would never, ever bear Arthur an heir because if it had not happened by now, it was never going to. For that matter . . . once she told them of her captivity, it would be obvious that for whatever reason, the fault was with her, for certainly, Medraut would have sired a child on her by now if it had been possible. She would have to open the whole sordid tale to the Ladies and show them what a threat Medraut was to the Old Ways. And maybe Morgana too, though that would be harder. Morgana had done nothing overtly, and even though she had pledged herself to Morrigan of the Dark Moon, that alone did not make her a traitor, either to Arthur, or to the Old Ways. The Goddess had both a Dark and a Shining face, and it was wise to never forget that.
And then . . . she had to expose Medraut and her sister for what they were and what they had done before Arthur himself and his entire court and Companions. Arthur’s blood he might be, but he could not be Arthur’s heir. She would have to find proof of what he had done. She couldn’t do that without still being queen, so . . . persuading Arthur to put her aside would have to wait until Medraut was no longer a threat and Gwenhwyfach was properly dealt with and confined by the Ladies where she could no longer harm anyone.
Then, once that was all sorted out, she had to explain her situation to her sisters. And her father. And, finally, Arthur himself.
She almost groaned at the thought of what it was going to take. It could be a year—more—until she and Lancelin were free to be together. But she was a king’s daughter and the wife of the High King, and the good of the land and the people came before her own desires. This land must be made safe from Medraut. A new bride for Arthur must be found—one who could be as compliant and complacent as he desired. Yes, even if she were a follower of the Christ priests. Unlike the Ladies, after knowing Gildas—and after having the Abbot himself come so gallantly to her rescue!—she was by no means convinced that their way was at odds with the Old Ways. Did they, too, not have a Lady that they served? Their god too