Camelee recognized it all now. Genevra’s expressions, the way she quirked her mouth at certain things…Genevra, Queen Guinevere Pendragon was her mother! It couldn’t get any bigger than that, she thought.
“I’m sorry for bothering you. I know you’re getting ready to see your father—”
“You’re not bothering us,” Camelee assured her with a smile, turning away from the mirror. She didn’t want to wear too much make-up. It all suddenly felt like a mask. Of course, the sisters provided the best make-up, dewy soft, as sheer as their breath. Like everything in Avalon, it was all perfect.
But nothing is perfect, she heard in her heart.
“Camelee, I wanted to—”
“Please, excuse me,” Wolf came forward. “I will wait in the other room.”
Genevra tried to stop him, but he told her they had things between them—as mother and daughter—that was for them to speak of alone. He would wait in the other room.
“I told your father what a good man Wolf is,” Genevra told her, watching him leave.
“Yes,” Camelee agreed. “He is.” She pulled a chair closer to hers and patted the seat.
Genevra spread the billowy skirts of her beautiful crimson velvet gown over the chair and sat.
“I love the gown you chose,” Camelee complimented.
“I wanted something simple. What about you? What are you wearing? I love that deep blue on you. It accentuates the golden light of your face.”
As simple at that, Camelee felt as if they were back in the keep, giggling about something Wolf or Hild said or did.
“I let Wolf choose what I wore, and I chose his creation,” Camelee looked down and smiled at herself. Her gown was simply cut in the color of moonlight. One of the other wonderful things about Avalon was that you could use your thoughts to create almost anything you wanted, as long as it wasn’t a weapon of any kind. It was considered a useless magic by most who lived here. Why did any need all the clutter? She had to confess that her husband looked quite handsome in his jeans and boots and the tight navy sweater. She’s almost jumped on him three times while he was dressing. Two of those times, he’d caught her and pinned her down on the bed. They laughed and kissed while they—
“Oh, aye!” Genevra remarked. “He looked very handsome. Dearest, I wanted to speak with you alone about…everything. We haven’t done that.”
Camelee nodded. What could she reply? She’d forgiven her mother, but the remnants of that wound were not yet healed. Was she just supposed to be ready to be a mother now? Could she find that elusive switch to forget everything she knew about love and mistrust and abandonment? She hadn’t been abandoned by her biological parents. Knowing that helped greatly and she hoped that, with time, she would heal completely. This was the person she needed to recover with. They talked and cried a little when Genevra told her about poor Arthur and what he’d gone through.
“He remembered us. He didn’t know who or where…or when we were, but he remembered that he loved us. Can you imagine? I have never remembered him, and his love still changed my life. I cannot fathom remembering us all and living without us.”
Camelee was glad her father had Guinevere in his life. Now, Camelee had her, too.
When they were ready to go, they called Wolf to them, and exchanged warm smiles on the way to the hall.
A short while later, Camelee sat at a large round table with her siblings and her parents, along with Viviane, Nimue, and Gliten. It wasn’ttheround table. This one was here for smaller gatherings. As for its shape, she’d read long ago that King Arthur liked round tables because it made him equal to his men. With no king at the head, no one felt less important. Her father was a good man. That was important to her because she’d always imagined him as being mean and hateful. How else, she had thought, could you give up your baby if you weren’t heartless? But her father had a tremendous heart. To give up everyone he loved.
Now, he was giving everyone a voice. That was good because her brothers and sister had things to say to their father and they would be heard. It was mainly about their husband or wives.
“No one is tampering with the timeline if our spouses come here,” her brother, Michael, charged. “Avalon is not in the earthly timeline, so they can come here.”
“Truthfully, Aunt Viviane,” Sebastian said from his chair at the table. His green eyes blazing as if he were on fire within. There was a hint of gold in them, but it grew as he spoke. “I have waited my whole, long life for Noelle, and days after I finally win her heart, you snatch me from her. Now, she is alone if Morgan goes to her. Someone better bring her here or I’ll find a way back and get her myself and no magic you can conjure will stop me.”
“My child needs its father,” Kestrel added with less threat in her beautiful blue-green gaze. “If Sebastian can find a way out, I will go with him.”
Camelee’s father turned to cast an anxious look at the sisters. They spoke quietly among themselves and then finally looked up at Wolf.
“Timekeeper, is it true? Are wenottampering with the timeline?”
“No,” Wolf answered as if he were the man in charge, and comfortable with the position. “I do not believe any tampering is taking place.”
“Very well, then,” Viviane said. “We will allow Sir Nicholas—” she paused and smiled as if she couldn’t help it. “Lady Charlotte, and Noelle to come to Avalon. They must never speak of it. If they do, they will be brought back here, where they will remain for the remainder of their days. You who love them are responsible for this. Do you accept?”
They all did, though Sebastian, with eyes blazing like molten lava, muttered something about them trying to take Noelle from him and how he would smash every wall down until the palace was a pile of sharp debris.
Viviane stood. “We will go to Merlin. He knows where everyone is. I will bring Nicholas here. Nim, you bring Noelle, and Gliten, Lady Charlotte.
