Timeless | New Adult F/F Romance [COMPLETE]

Part III

There once was a prince named Arthur, son of Uther and Lady Ygraine, heir to the throne of sub-Roman Britain, better known as Camelot. But before Arthur Lady Ygraine bore three daughters to her first husband, Gorlois of Tintagel-among them was Morgan Le Fay, often called Morgana. It was with this woman the book began.

She was a daughter of Albion, the sister of its future king, and the ward of then-King Uther upon her mother's death. She was a girl plagued with darkness in the form of haunting visions of the future, a curse in a kingdom where the barest hint of magic yielded a death sentence. Morgan Le Fay was a girl manipulated by her guardians and betrayed by her friends, a girl who stole back her power at the cost of her those who loved her. She was a girl who eventually was forgiven for her trespasses but who never forgot those against her.

"Were you named after her?" Stella asked on a whim.

Morgan Fayne gazed at her for a moment, her lips tilted in a smile the Mona Lisa would admire. "You could say that."

Stella returned to the book, more of a book of charts, a hierarchy of names connected by faded lines. A dashed line connected Morgana to Arthur, labelled sister. A florid green line linked Arthur to Merlyn, the legendary sorcerer. There was always talk that they were bound to each other by bonds that defied life and death. This book seemed to agree; there was no designation for what they represented to each other. A plain yet broad band of black bound Arthur to a bleached-out color portrait of another figure. A woman with dark eyes and skin who wore a crown. Gwenhwyfar, daughter of King Leodegrance. Between them, the bond read, wedded.

There were more lines in a surfeit of colors, linkages that distilled centuries of legend into fundamental truths. From Lancelot to Arthur, broken, blood-brother. From Lancelot to Gwenhwyfar, beloved. Mordred. Morgause. Uther. Ygraine. Disloyal. Forgotten. Dead. Betrayed.

It went on for dozens of pages, yet from the first page to the very last, there was a thread that reappeared again and again. An ornate violet chord bisecting the flurry of bindings that formed the Round Table, its enemies and cohorts. This chord wound through these unnamed kinships and treacheries and courtly loves to bind two who should be bound by nothing. Morgan Le Fay was touched by Gwenhwyfar, it read. Always.

This truth settled into the lonely recesses of Stella's mind with a snick, ringing through her crystalline heart clear as church bells.

"She loved her. Morgana loved Guinevere." Stella turned the book over in search of some sign that this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. Everyone knew that story. Guinevere loved Lancelot. She had betrayed her king to love him. That was the story everybody knew. It had to be true.

But what if Lancelot wasn't the only one she loved?

Stella realized she was being watched. She flicked her eyes sideways to see Morgan's skitter away. "You've been staring at me for the past hour. Is there something on my face?"

Morgan adjusted her mirror absently though they seemed perfectly positioned already. "Nothing. I just noticed you look like somebody I used to know. That's all. Nothing personal."

Stella crossed her arms, hugging the book to her chest. "Sorry. Being stared at makes me antsy." It reminded her of the watcher in her dreams. Her sadness. Her disappointed love. How Stella hadn't meant to do whatever she'd done. Had Guinevere loved her, too?

"It's cool."

"Who do I remind you of, anyway?"

Morgan pursed her lips. "An old priestess of the coven. You have her eyes."

Stella blinked. "That's weird, isn't it?"

"Honestly? Yeah." Morgan tapped her lean fingers on the steering wheel to a song only she could hear. The radio sat dormant between them.