Resurrection: A Historical Adventure Romance Novel (Legend Book 3) Page 6
“You forgive me?” I swallowed hard.
“This is our new start, Avalon.” She offered a wan smile. “The past is over.”
Alexandria continued to humble and surprise me. “Thank you, Alexandria. That means more than you know.”
We sat there in silence for a moment before John stepped forward. “As you know, sir, you wear the five wounds of Christ. These tattoos are all symbols that I believe will aid us in knowing our path.” The priest moved closer to me with excitement in his voice. “I believe God has gifted you armor.” His amber eyes narrowed on my wrists. “Now we just have to learn how to activate it.”
“You mean Avalon’s tattoos are a version of body armor?” Alexandria peered over Vivian at the wings on the inside of my wrists.
“Very much so, my lady.” John nodded. “Here, the wings are replicas of the wings of the cherubim found on the Ark of the Covenant.”
Alexandria wrinkled her nose. “But isn’t that a myth?”
“No, it is very real,” John explained. “The Ark of the Covenant holds God’s essence and the Ten Commandments.”
“So if Avalon holds these marks, that must mean he has been granted the purity of God within himself,” Vivian concluded.
John bounced with excitement. “Exactly. When you, Alexandria, gave the sword Sinfonia back to Avalon, which contained his soul, he was able to defeat his old self.” John pulled out a small leather-bound journal from a pocket within his priest’s coat. “In killing one’s old self, it is essentially dying in the body and being reborn in the spirit. Avalon did it both in spirit and body, in a way.” He fingered through a few pages and paused. “Yes, and now the rose on his left side.”
Vivian seemed to be of the same mind of John, and I rolled my eyes as they pulled up my dress shirt. “All right, now, that’s really not necessary,” I protested, smirking at Alexandria when I caught her staring at my lower abdomen.
“The Rose of Sharon,” John mused.
“Yes, there is a small rose there …” I was growing impatient. “It is where our Lord was struck with the Lance of Longinus?”
John’s head snapped up. “Of course.”
“Even better,” Vivian agreed, looking at me. “Don’t you have two pieces of that lance, Avalon?”
I paused, glancing at Merlin who shifted his stance, waiting for me to give the signal. “Come.” Holding out my hand to Alexandria, I decided now was the best time to unveil the secrets of this estate.
Merlin led us from the green parlor out into the hall once again. This time, we passed my quarters and continued to a hidden door covered by a large portrait. Alexandria squeezed my hand, and I returned the gesture to reassure her.
The door creaked open, and a dark, stone staircase greeted us. Now, the secrets of the old castle would reveal itself. I kept my gaze on Alexandria’s face as we walked up the twisted stairwell. Her lips were pulled into a thin line, her eyes bright and wide in anticipation.
A second door stood guard at the very top with my faded coat of arms—the Welsh dragon. Merlin pulled the heavily aged door and entered the third level of my estate. This was the bittersweet past that I kept hidden above the promising present.
There were no carpets and no portraits lining the single hall we walked along. Metal suits of armor decorated our journey, ancient and lost coats of arms hung from the ceiling.
“I feel like we’ve just stepped back in time,” Alexandria whispered.
Vivian turned to glance over her shoulder with a gentle smile. “We have.”
I placed my arm around her shoulders as we passed by closed doors. The hall came to an end and two double doors gave us cause to pause.
“Sir.” Merlin gave a slight bow, allowing me to open these doors.
The sound of my heart pounding in my ears seemed to echo off the stonework. I hadn’t been up here in a few long months. Closing my eyes, I steadied my resolve. The cold steel of the handles greeted my fingers as they closed. With a swift pull, they opened.
Windows set high above allowed in the afternoon sunlight to pool in the center of the room. The ceiling was vaulted much like the cathedral of Westminster or Hampton Courts Great Hall. Glass encasings preserved ancient texts, scrolls, and secrets. More held weaponry, artifacts, and history unknown to the outside world.
Alexandria left my side in order to explore.
I let her go, watching her as she inhaled our history—her history—in silent reverence.
In the center of the room, where the sun splashed down and washed over a covered piece, Alexandria paused. I narrowed my eyes, seeing the change in her posture, and sensed her soul recognizing what was hidden beneath her fingertips.
She turned to me. “May I?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and stood only a few feet away. “You may.”
Alexandria pulled the heavy brown covering from the table. Dust flew into the air, causing the particles to shimmer in the sunlight. As the covering fell away, she let go, and her hands touched the wood tentatively as if afraid it would vanish.
My racing heart steadied itself as I studied her tracing names written in old English around the table. John joined her and found his place, kneeling before it as if in silent prayer. I walked quietly to Alexandria and covered her hand with my own. She had paused on my name—Arthur Pendragon. Lancelot du Lac to my left.
“This is …” Her voice trembled with amazement and a hint of fear.
“It is.” My voice was gentle. “This is my table for the Knights of the Round.”
SEVEN
Alexandria
I never thought this would be possible. My life is a fairy tale. The man I love is a myth. Now, staring at the legendary Round Table, all notions of fantasy came true. This was real. Arthur was real, and he was mine.
“It’s incredible,” I murmured, allowing my fingers to stroke the gorgeous worn wood.
Father John rose from his kneeling. “Built from the very wood of Noah’s Ark.” His amber eyes were misty. “I never thought I’d see it again.”
I turned to glance at Avalon. “Noah’s Ark? Is that true?”
Avalon’s eyes sparked with pride. “While the search for the Ark is one of the greatest mysteries in the world, it is also one that can’t be uncovered.” He rested a palm against his own spot. “I found it.”
“How?” I couldn’t conceal my awe.
Avalon winked. “God told me.”
Folding his hands behind his back, he began to walk over to a glass case against the wall. I followed, eager to learn more. A low hum caught my attention the closer we came to the case.
Within it were two pieces of what appeared to be the handle of a spear. The wood appeared fresh with no signs of wear or dryness that usually came with age. “And what is this?” I asked.
“The Lance of Longinus.” Father John came closer, scrutinizing the case cautiously. “You haven’t recovered the actual head of the spear?”
M spoke from a safe distance away. “No. Unfortunately, our searches came up short on every lead.”
Father John narrowed his gaze on Avalon. “Then you are aware, sir?”
I tried to understand the exchange between the three men. They all seemed tense as something unspoken hung in the air between them.
“Aware of what?”
Avalon’s jaw clenched at my question.
“This spear is the only weapon that could potentially kill me.” The gravity in his voice sent a cold chill through my entire body.
“It could kill you?” My voice was staccato, my tongue thick and useless. Avalon came around to grasp my shoulders.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, but the spear’s blade has not been found.” He kissed the top of my head. “It can only wound in pieces.”
“Still, sir.” M hovered in the background, hands clasped behind his back. “To exercise caution would be key.”
Avalon’s lips pressed together in a thin line, and Father John took the opportunity to lighten the mood. “Do you know the hi
story of this lance, Alexandria?”
The priest’s handsome looks and youthful countenance made me think he was more movie star than holy man.
I allowed him to take my hand and escort me away from Avalon as he moved to speak to M, and I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
“It was the lance used to pierce Christ’s side at his crucifixion.” Father John surveyed the medieval hall we had found ourselves in. “A lot of these relics have ancient and mystical ties.”
John stopped in front of a glass case thickly lined in red velvet. He didn’t ask permission to open the lid before lifting the delicate necklace from within. On closer inspection, I realized he held a rosary.
Amber eyes met mine. “This belonged to Guinevere, and now, it belongs to you.”
I hesitated, taking the memento with both hands. The obsidian beads were worn smooth from years of use. I wondered how many answered prayers came from this relic.
The cross dangled between my fingertips, the image of Christ laid out for the world to see.
“This will protect you, Alexandria.” John’s voice brought me from my thoughts.
I forced a smile. “Thank you, Father John.”
He motioned for me to sit in an oak chair, resembling that of the chair used to crown monarchs. Crushed purple velvet lined the seat, and symbols carved into the wood were fading with time.
I sat and looked to my right at a slightly higher, grander version of the chair I was in. A flutter in my stomach and a sense of recognition washed over my body. My tension relaxed, and I leaned back. “This was her chair.”
Father John’s unique amber eyes shone with his wide smile. “Yes, Your Majesty. This is your chair.”
The wood seemed almost warm, buzzing with my life force once again. I gripped the arms of the chair, burning this moment to memory. A feeling of pride, power, and confidence radiated within me that I had never experienced before.
And then I saw her.
Or should I say, me.
She sat across from me in a long emerald green gown with a golden belt around her middle. A rose-gold circlet sat atop her head while long light brown, almost copper-colored hair fell to her waist. Her piercing blue eyes met mine, her cheekbones higher than mine, her lips a bit fuller.
I couldn’t move, locked in a dream state with my predecessor smirking before me.
“Hello, Alexandria.” Guinevere blinked slowly, stood gracefully, and arched a manicured brow.
“H-hello.” I gulped hard.
Invisible chains held me fast to my seat, unable to move as she stalked forward.
“You must win at all costs.”
Hands could be felt on my arms, shaking me back to reality.
“I must win at all costs?” I parroted.
Guinevere nodded and knelt in front of me. “Mordred poses a great threat to Arthur. You must keep him safe.” She placed her hand in my own. “I give you my strength for your days to come.”
In her, I found, not a terrible adulteress, but a humble and remorseful woman. My fingers curled around her. “Thank you; I shall do all I can.”
The warmth in her smile reminded me of summer days gone by. For the first time since finding out that I was this woman’s reincarnation, I felt at ease.
“Alexandria.”
She let go and stepped back, walking away from me into a heavy mist.
“Alexandria.”
Avalon’s face came into view, and I jumped back, startled.
“Oh, thank goodness! What was that?” His brows knitted together, worry etching his face.
M took his place and cupped my face with his hands. “She’s had an encounter.”
“With what?” Avalon roared.
“Not with what, but whom,” John offered. M nodded his agreement.
I held my hand up to silence the group of men, turning toward Vivian who waited patiently to the side. One look in her eyes and I knew she had seen what I had.
Nothing would be the same.
I stood.
Lives would be tested, and blood would be spilled.
I clasped my hands and walked to one of the many windows allowing illumination within the hall.
“Love, what is it?” Avalon came to stand next to me.
I glanced over at him. “I saw a ghost.”
The bob of his Adam’s apple was visible then he replied. “So have I.”
Before I could explain Guinevere’s warning, all of us heard yelling coming from below on the second floor. Frantic footsteps echoed on the stone steps, followed by cries.
“Avalon! Where are you?”
“It’s Morgan.” M rushed to the door.
The raven-haired woman appeared in the doorway, heaving for breath. M had caught her before she fell over from her ordeal, and she gripped his vest.
Avalon situated himself between me and his half sister. I knew I had nothing to fear from the woman I already considered a sister.
Breaking away from Avalon, I went to her.
“Morgan, what is wrong?” I asked, grasping her arms.
Morgan always seemed to be a picture of togetherness and never weakness. Now, the trembling woman before me was very much the opposite.
“Morgan.” Avalon finally put a hand on his sister’s back. “What happened?”
She glanced back and forth between the two of us, lower lip trembling before she whispered, “It’s Lancer. He’s poisoned his mind.”
Avalon and M exchanged a glance over my head. “Who poisoned his mind?” M’s voice was stern, a cold seriousness I never heard him wield.
Morgan blinked, locking eyes with me. “Mordred.”
I give you my strength for your days to come.Guinevere’s voice echoed in my head. Our hourglass had been tipped, and our time was running out.
EIGHT
Morgan
There are many things in this life I regret. Normally, those things were not of my choosing or under my power to change. I just regret they ever happened. Today was one of those times.
Earlier that day …
Mordred called me into the main testing room in the morning, and from there, all hell broke loose.
“Ah, Morgan, so glad you could join us.” Mordred leaned back in his seat, clasping his hands behind his head. “Dr. Tristan and I were just talking about you.”
Narrowing my eyes, I turned my glower on the sandy-haired man standing next to Mordred. His lean frame, sharp hazel eyes, and chiseled features reminded me of a Grecian marble statue. The analogy was fitting; it matched the useless stone in his chest he called a heart.
Ren shimmered to life on her pedestal in the center of the sleek, metal table. The tension in the room rose significantly. Not quite sure what would transpire, I cleared my throat. “You wanted to see me?”
Mordred smirked. “I do.” He stood with the sickening grace of his father. It hurt to watch this man who owned me, and see my brother behind every expression, every motion, even in his voice.
A door to the back lab slid open, and Lancer appeared. He walked with purpose, wearing a dark look in his green eyes, which made me nervous. Dr. Tristan strode over to the man and whispered instructions too quiet to hear. With a nod, Lancer began to remove his clothes until he was standing in just his boxers. Something was going to happen, and my gut twisted in dread at not knowing what.
“What is going on, Mordred?” I finally found my voice. “Why is Lancer here?”
Instead of answering me, Mordred pulled an object from his suit jacket. It illuminated gold and crimson light in his palm, pulsing in time to my racing heart. Fear slid through my veins and wrapped around my bones, freezing me in place.
“When Ms. York was here, I became aware of something amiss.” His calculating gaze shifted to meet mine. “Did you really believe you could save your brother by betraying me?” His fist closed around the glittering orb, and my chest seized.
I choked and fell to my knees.
My mouth opened, desperate for air, but none entered my lungs.
Tears escaped my eyes as black dots spun in my vision.
“Mordred.” Dr. Tristan’s voice came as a sharp reminder not to off me—yet.
The bastard waited for just a beat after the warning before releasing my heart. I inhaled with a groan, falling forward onto my hands as I heaved for oxygen.
Footsteps echoed on the hard marble floor, stopping just in front of me. His cold hand reached down and gripped my chin, roughly pulling me back to my knees.“I know you gave Sinfonia to Alexandria.”
My throat stuck.
My eyes darted to Ren, and Mordred made the connection. “Ren didn’t have to tell me.” His grip released me then he offered me his hand. “You did what I expected you to do.”
I paused, staring at the floor, mind racing.
I did what he expected me to do?
“I knew your guilt for Arthur would be too much.” Mordred skulked back to where Lancer and Dr. Tristan were. Lancer was now hooked up to an IV, and little sensors had been attached to various locations of his nearly naked body.
“You knew?” I stood on trembling knees. “You know nothing about how I feel.”
Mordred rolled his eyes, motioning for Lancer to lie back on the wheeled in hospital bed. Dr. Tristan then took it upon himself to begin hooking up the various wires and cords to machines.
After the drip had been tapped, Mordred finally spoke. “Like it or not, Morgan, I do know how you feel. Emotions allowed to rule the mind always give a clear path to destruction.” Dr. Tristan pulled out a vial identical to the one I gave to Alexandria. What the bloody hell was he planning?
“Shall I extract it, sir?” The doctor paused before opening the vial.
Staring me square in the face, Mordred’s evil smirk made my stomach roil. “Show Ms. Le Fey what we’ve been planning for all along, Tristan.”
“Very well.” The doctor opened the top, and a brilliant light flashed throughout the dimly lit room.
Squinting against the blinding rays, an overwhelming sense of unease pierced the air. As my vision cleared, I gasped at the sword Mordred held in his right hand. The sword emitted a haunting sound and chilled me to the bone. This wasn’t Sinfonia—that sword sung an Aria—but this, this sword was evil.