purpose,” Charles admitted.
“And you were to stay in New York.”
Charles took another sip of the god-awful coffee. It had been cold, they were huddled on a fishing boat with scant blankets, and he was confused and terrified. A lot of families and children clung to each other, but no one reached out for him, until the nun had appeared and handed him a thick blanket and a paper cup of water.
“I need you.”
Charles had looked at the lady, who had smiled kindly and said the first friendly word to him since he had woken. “Can you be brave?”
He’d nodded. He could be anything, and he closed his eyes at the touch of her hand as she cupped his cheek and cuddled him close. He must have gone to sleep because when he woke, he knew who he was, what she wanted him to do, and he had never regretted a single second.
He hadn’t known then who she was though, and as he glanced up at Mel, Charles knew Mel understood. He had been present in the tombs when Morgause had appeared to Tom, to her son. He had wanted to say something to her then, but it would have been cruel to deny Tom even a second of her attention when it was so very limited.
“How long have I been absent?”
“Six months,” Mel answered, immediately understanding Charles’s question.
Six months? And his memory stretched endlessly into nothing. What had he been doing? Where had he been?
“And you can’t remember any of it?” Gawain asked, the doubt clear in his voice.
Charles shook his head, and for the first time a doubt surfaced. He had been content for a very long time. His purpose was bigger than the needs of one man, and for a second he resented ever meeting Kay or the rest of the knights. They had no right to question his choices when they had their own quest.
“And the reason you are down here, I guess, is that your purpose doesn’t extend to staying in one place,” Mel said gently.
Charles didn’t reply, but he didn’t think Mel needed an answer. In the short time Charles had known him, maturity was settling on Mel like the robes he was sure his namesake wore. “Kay is mistaken.”
“I won’t argue with you because I haven’t found my Tresor.”
Charles looked over at Gawain in surprise. He had expected Mel to respond. But while Gawain made the words sound a statement of fact, he wondered if there was a little resentment as well. He supposed it must be hard seeing others finding their happiness when he was still waiting.
Was that how Kay felt?
Had Kay been so desperate to fulfill his destiny that he had latched on to Charles without thinking it through? But even as the thought filtered through him, he knew it wasn’t true. He believed Kay was honestly convinced that Charles was his Tresor. He was just wrong.
“Lucan told me you had a sword,” Mel said. It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t a casual comment either.
Charles shrugged. “It appeared as I needed it to strike the beast. It has since gone. I’m sure if I need it again it will reappear.”
Gawain turned from his screen. “A sword?” He sounded curious. “But only the Knights’ swords can kill the Ursus.” He looked at Mel as if expecting him to disagree.
Mel nodded. “Except we don’t know the magic that is used to control Charles.”
“Control?” Charles repeated almost a little defensively.
“Appearing only when someone decides you are needed and having no memory of any previous task? I would say that’s an enormous amount of control.”
Mel was right, of course, except control made him sound like a puppet. His purpose, his task was greater than that, but he didn’t expect them to understand.
“Is Kay your new light, then?” Gawain asked.
“Yes,” Charles said confidently. Of that he had no doubt.
“That seems incredibly cruel,” Mel said. Charles stared at Mel. How was saving a man’s life cruel?
“I don’t see—”
“You may not, but basically you are condemning Kay to seeing a future he desperately wants but cannot have,” Mel pointed out. “And who is your dark?” Charles should have known Mel would focus on that.
“Morgan.” Except even as he said it, he wasn’t sure. He remembered how everyone assumed Tom’s dark was Mordred or Morgan, but he had known it was Aalardin with a deep conviction. One he didn’t seem to have now.
Charles squirmed, and Mel jumped up. “Well, I don’t see why Lance should be asleep and be