Guinevere's Grail | ✓ [BOOK 2]

~ 25 ~

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, THE druid awoke next to the thief, who was still sound asleep. It was disorienting at first, because this was the first time they ever woke up outside of the palace that they could remember, and just a morning ago, Eurion was their enemy.

Perhaps she still was, and she'd been lying this whole time. But when Chalice looked at her, they only felt warm. They wanted to trust her, more than they wanted to trust the Queen, and they thought maybe they should trust their gut, even if it meant risking their life. Perhaps it's what the real Chalice would've done.

Selene and Giselle were in one corner of the room, holding the young boy in their arms, while Kit and Morgana were tangled in each other's limbs on the bed. Something told them this was unusual behavior, that such a sweet, tender position was something they wanted to keep a secret, so they vowed to not to say a thing about it to anyone.

Ursula crept down the stairs, drawing the druid's attention. She'd been up all night, and Chalice was curious about what she did for a living. The night before, she gave palm readings and Giselle did a few Seelie tricks in order to get them the clothes and baths they needed, but that didn't tell them much about what she really did. She'd been there all night, not that it meant much with strangers in her house, but still.

"Good morning," they whispered to her, and she met their gaze with a pleasant nod.

"Hello," she greeted, pulling a few things together in the small kitchen area. Chalice noticed then that she had no stove, but there was something steaming in her cup.

"You're Gifted," the druid observed, and they didn't know how they knew that word. "What kind?"

Ursula looked down at her tea. "A witch," she told them. "That's why I'm here, in the refuge village. Not sacred like druids, not smart and diplomatic like sorcerers. I'm the Gifted no one likes. I'm happy here, though. What about you?"

"A druid," they answered, staring down at their scarred palms. They often wondered how they got there, and sometimes the memory nearly surfaced. But whenever it did, it felt like trying to remember a dream in the morning. The more they reached for it, the more it escaped them. "I'm told I wasn't treated as sacred, though."

"You're 'told?'" asked Ursula, leaning against the wall.

Chalice ran a hand over their sternum, where a nasty scar sat as a reminder of the brutal death they suffered but never remembered. "I lost my memories," they told her. "I only remember the past two weeks."

The witch turned her head. "Do you know what happened?"

They didn't think it safe to run around telling the world they came back from the dead. "I don't," they lied, just to be cautious. "Sorry."

"No worries," Ursula insisted. "I might still be able to help you. May I?"

The offer was tempting. Did they want their memories, though? Everything about this body said their life was painful before. And the way Eurion talked to them, the adventure these strange people seemed to be on, the way they hardly blinked when Morgana almost lost the use of his arm--they didn't know if they even wanted to remember.

They looked down at the thief, and they felt that pang in their chest again. She was so distraught, she couldn't bear Chalice's state, and when she hurt, they did, too. Maybe it would be worth it, if only to see her smile. Though they didn't know how she was before, surely a quiet, solemn girl was not it.

Chalice rose to their feet, returning their attention to Ursula. "How long will it take?"

* * *

By the time the woman was done, everyone else was awake.

"It might not show for the next several days, and it won't fix it all, but I hope it will do something to help," Ursula said to Chalice as they joined the others.