Chapter Seventeen

 

In the event that the Contract is terminated or nullified, each party will leave the marriage with the property they brought into it.  Therefore, Guinevere Pendragon will retain all estates inherited from her father and/or former husband (provided she can retrieve them from her enemies), her wedding band from Arthur Pendragon, and sole custody of Avalon Pendragon (a minor).

She will not pay alimony to Midas (no last name given).

Clause 20- Disposition of Property of Guinevere Pendragon in Event of Contract’s Termination

 

Gwen glowered over at Midas, pissed that he’d gotten her to say more than she’d intended. “Clause 8- ‘Privacy and Disclosure’ specifically says that I don’t have to tell you about Arthur.”

“It says you don’t need to tell me… but it doesn’t say I can’t ask.”

Shit. He was right about the contractual language.  As usual.  She should refuse to answer him, anyway, but he was looking at her with those hypnotic gold eyes and words just started flowing.  “Our bedrooms shared the balcony. Of course I saw Arthur fall. How could I miss it?”

Midas watched her closely.  “That must have been traumatic for you.”

Gwen nodded, still not liking this topic. “Very traumatic.”

“How did it happen?”

“It was late. He was drunk and leaning over too far. He lost his balance.”

“Exactly what the official report said. A tragic accident.”

“Very tragic.”

“The report didn’t say you saw him fall, though.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“No.” Midas sounded one-hundred percent certain.  His steel-trap of a memory no doubt recalled every word on every page.  “It didn’t. Your statement said you were sleeping.  Which seems odd, because it also said that one of the panes of glass on your balcony door was broken. Seems like the noise of it shattering would have woken you up.”

“Oh, that broke long before Arthur died.”

“Not according to the maid who cleaned the room that day.”

“Well, she’s confused then.”  Gwen shot back. “The palace has a lot of windows, so it would be easy to get mixed up. And I was confused, if my statement said I was asleep when Arthur fell.  I was understandably upset at the time, so I’m not surprised it got all muddled around in my mind. My husband had just fallen to his death.”

“Yes, the whole kingdom mourned. Just check the daily weather reports.”

“Pfft.”  Gwen rolled her eyes at that nonsense.  “Camelot’s climate was bad way before Arthur died. I don’t care what the Scarecrow says, it’s the pollution making it so gray, all the time.  Once I have the crown back, we’re instituting a much more comprehensive environmental program. That will fix the gloom and bring back the sun.”

Midas’ eyebrows soared at her very scientific take on the weather.

“Oh.”  Gwen mentally winced.  Maybe it wasn’t the best time to discuss her thoughts on Camelot’s abysmal air quality. She should act more grief-stricken. “But obviously, everyone was very sad about Arthur.”  She hurriedly tacked on.  “Very, very… sad.”

Midas took a deep breath, like he was getting ready to jump into unknown waters.  “I wasn’t sad.”  He said distinctly.  “I’m still not sad. I always thought Arthur was a colossal asshole.  I’m glad he’s gone.”

Gwen’s jaw dropped. No one ever criticized Arthur.  Even Galahad had made excuses for him. Everybody thought Arthur was perfect. Camelot’s shining ideal of manhood.  It was astonishing to hear somebody else realize that he was a bastard.

Midas gauged her reaction. “Arthur locked me in the WUB Club, of course, so I’m bound to hold a biased opinion.”  He went on warily when she didn’t respond.  “Perhaps he was different in private.  With you.”

“No.”  Gwen took a deep breath and jumped into the pool, too.  She was never afraid of drowning when Midas was around.  “The more you knew him, the more of an asshole he became, actually.”

Midas processed that unfiltered response for a beat.  “Tell me.”  He finally said.

And so she did.

“Arthur terrified me.  He was violent and malicious and he hated both me and Avalon.  If there had been a safe way to leave him, I would have done it.”

Something savage gleamed in Midas’ eyes.

“At the beginning, Arthur was just a terrible father, a philandering husband, and a disinterested king.” Gwen went on.  It was relief not to have to pretend.  She sucked at subterfuge.  “He was spoiled and arrogant.  I could tolerate that.  But things changed after Avi was born.  He wanted to use Dark Science to ‘cure’ her and he was furious that I wouldn’t go along with it.  By the time he died, he was… unhinged.”

“You weren’t in love with him.”  It was a statement.

“God no!  Not even for a day.  I’ve never loved any man, because none of them have been the Right Man.”

Her father had seen that Arthur was her destiny --that their child would be a gift to the world-- and so Gwen had done her duty and married him.  It had been the logical choice.  She’d trusted Merlyn and he’d been right.  Avalon was a gift.  Gwen had never regretted listening to him, because Arthur gave her Avi.

At first, Gwen had even entertained some childish fantasies of her own, imagining their life together.  Even if he wasn’t the Right Man, she’d hoped they could have a happy family.  Those dreams had died quickly in the face of Arthur’s cheating and drinking and cruelty.  It was always pointless to try and hide from reality.

Before he died, though, Merlyn had left Gwen a recording, promising her that the Right Man was coming.  He’d told her he’d seen it.  Seen him.  And, like Avalon, her father was always right.  Gwen had been clinging to that hope for years.  Sometimes it was all that got her through.

“You love Galahad.”  Midas persisted.  “You told me so.”

“But not romantically.  Lord, I have no idea how this rumor of our supposed ‘affair’ keeps circulating.”

“Possibly because you have nothing but glowing things to say about the man.  Repeatedly and often, across all forms of media.  I believe the term you used to describe him to me was ‘perfect.’”  He bit off the word as if it was coated in poison.

“Of course I said that!  Galahad is a wonderful person.  My best friend.”  She hesitated, looking at Midas.  “One of them, anyway.  But, I’m not in love with Gal.  We’re not attracted to each other.  No chemistry.”  She’d always been drawn to rougher, darker, Badder men.  Case in point, the rougher, darker, Badder man beside her.  “I mean Gal’s got such a great heart and he’s so ethical and just fabulously gorgeous.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“Well it’s true.”  Gwen defended. “However, he’s also very, very, very… perfect.”

Midas slanted her a quick sideways look, intrigued by her tone.  “Wait.  Perfect is a negative thing to you?”

“Perfect is… beige.”  Gwen explained.  “There’s nothing wrong with beige, but nobody is ever excited to see it show up on a date, ya know?  It’s just inoffensive and easy and… classy.”  She made a face.  “But, classy can be so boring, don’t you think?”

Midas’ brows climbed up his forehead.

Gwen looked him up and down, taking in his outrageous clothing and wonderfully unhandsome face.  “You are never beige.”  She told him happily.

That made him laugh.  The unexpected sound caused her stomach to dip in all kinds of pleasurable ways.  Gwen had never heard him laugh before.  She doubted many people had.  The chuckle burst out of him, as if the humor caught him completely off-guard, and it was beautiful.

“I hate beige.”  He admitted with a grin.

“Why, I never would have guessed.”  She waved a hand around the bejeweled elevator.

“I do like classy, though.  I don’t find it boring, at all.”  He smiled, like a weight had been lifted off of him.  “Alright.”  He said in a lighter tone.  “So to recap:  you’re not in love with beige Galahad.”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t love asshole Arthur.”

“No.  How many times do I need to say it?  When he died, I was mostly just relieved.”

“Then why is his ring still on your finger?”

Gwen looked down at her wedding band.  Truthfully, she’d forgotten it was even there.  She’d never much liked the ugly hunk of metal, which was emblazoned with Arthur’s crest.  Certainly, whatever sentimental attachment she’d once had towards it was gone now.  It was the one valuable object she had left, though.

“I wear it in case Avi ever needs food or a place to sleep, of course.  It’s all I have to sell.  The Scarecrow took everything else.”

Midas blinked.  That pragmatic answer clearly wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear.  “You see the ring as currency?”

“Of course.  Gold is money.  You, more than anyone, know that, Midas.”  Out of habit, she rubbed the smooth surface with her thumb.  “It’s like a safety net, I guess.  No matter what happens, I have this and so I know Avalon will be okay.”

Midas’ brow knitted, staring down at the ring.  “I’ll buy it from you.”  He said abruptly, his amusement gone.

“Huh?”

“How much do you want for it?  I can pay any amount.”  He shrugged dismissively.  “Millions.  Tens of millions.  Name it and it’s yours.”

“I’m not going to take money from you Midas!”

“Why not?”  He looked annoyed.  “I have plenty.  You can use my gold to care for Avalon, instead of that damn ring.”

Gwen shook her head.  “It’s not the same.”

Jesus, Midas really did think he could purchase anything, didn’t he?  The countless dolls, and handbags, and rocking-horsefly feeders that he bought for them were one thing.  She was confused by the barrage of stuff, but she mostly found it quirky and cute.  Gwen got exasperated by his inability to keep track of costs, of course.  In her heart, though, she knew Midas was only trying to make her and Avi happy.

But this was just insulting.  Why did he even want the ring?  As a trophy?

Jill’s words filtered through her head.  All you are is a trophy to him.  Something of Arthur’s he can show off.  Gwen trusted Midas, but it was hard to get past the fact that he liked to own things.  They couldn’t have a real relationship if he thought she had a price attached.

“How is my money not the same as Arthur’s money?”  Midas demanded, like he was one who should be offended.  “Because I’m a criminal and he was the king?”

The man made her want to rip out her hair.  “You’re the king now!”

Midas snorted.  “You are alone in that opinion, I assure you.”

“It’s not an opinion, it’s a fact.  Just like it’s a fact that nobody can remove a wedding band from someone else’s finger without permission.  You know that.  You can’t even cut it off.  They’re enspelled.”  She held up her hand.  “No one can ever take this from me.  Even if you want to enact Clause 11 and end our marriage, I will still have enough money to ensure Avalon eats.”

“I’m not going to steal my gold back once I pay you, Gwen.”  He looked really pissed now. “And I’m never going to end our marriage.  Ever.  And I sure as hell wouldn’t vanish and leave Avalon out in the cold without any goddamn food.  I’m not my fucking parents!”

Gwen’s head snapped around.  “What?”  Only one part of that really registered with her.  “My God, Midas.  Did your parents really vanish?”

Midas blinked, like he hadn’t expected to tell her that.  “I…  I don’t want to talk about it.”  He muttered, refusing to elaborate.  “All I want to do is buy the damn ring.”

She ignored that evasion, imagining him as a little boy, hungry and alone.  No wonder money and buying things meant so much to him.  He’d spent his childhood in that mud hole of Celliwig, without a family to rely on.  How had he survived?  Everything Midas had he’d fought for or paid for, all by himself.

“Midas, I think we should talk about your parents.”  She studied his face with stricken eyes.  “What happened to you?  Trystan said you were raised by a gryphon.  Did she take you in after they disappeared?  Did they die?”

His jaw ticked.  “Clause 8 says I don’t need to disclose my past.”

Gwen’s lips tightened at that stubborn answer.  “Clause 8 was written in for me, not you!  And you have a hell of a nerve bringing it up, at all, considering you’ve spent days researching my whole life.”

“That was well within the parameters of the Contract.”  He retorted, but now he looked guilty.  He liked to pretend he didn’t know right from wrong, but his honorable nature wouldn’t let him snoop around in shades of gray without his conscience bothering him.  “You never had to tell me anything you didn’t want to.  I simply hired investigators and found it out myself.  That’s not against the rules.”

“It violated the spirit of our agreement and you know it!”

“So, sell me the ring.  Then, you’ll have plenty of money to hire detectives and do the same thing to me.  Quid pro quo.”

Gwen crossed her arms over her chest, frustrated with him for a variety of reasons.  “My ring is not for sale.”

“Everything’s for sale.”

“I’m not.”

He glanced at her sharply from beneath his lashes.

“Once you understand that you cannot just buy me,” Gwen continued, in a tight voice, “I’ll consider your offer.”

The elevator bing-ed, finally reaching its destination.  Midas muttered a curse and slid the iron gates open to reveal a long, antiseptic hallway lined with neatly numbered doors.

Gwen glanced around.  “Your dungeon looks like a hospital.”  She informed him in a not so pleasant voice.

“I built this house.”  Midas stepped out of the elevator, gesturing for her to follow.  “You think I would build something old and filthy?”

“Why in the world did you build a dungeon, at all?”

He was obviously still mad.  “Arthur had a dungeon.  Did you ever ask him why he had it?”

“No.  I knew why he had it: Because he liked to have power over people.  He liked to hurt them.  It fed his ego.”

Midas sent her another sideways look.  “That’s not why I have it.”

Gwen sighed.  It was so difficult to stay irritated at the man.  Even when he was brooding and obstinate, he was just impossibly appealing.  “I know.”

Midas’ first instinct was always to defend those weaker than himself.  She wondered if he knew that was the primary duty of a knight.  Part of their code.  Probably not.  Midas lived with honor, without ever being taught their oath.  It was just his nature.

He wasn’t satisfied by her instant agreement.  “I built it, because I was designing a castle and castles have dungeons.  It’s why I have a moat and throne room, too.  I wanted to create the best.”  He hesitated, looking around.  “Until today, no one’s ever been locked up down here.”

Somehow that didn’t surprise her.  Midas was so gentle.

She wasn’t.

“I never could see the profit in keeping your enemies confined in your home.  Practically speaking, it makes more sense to just get rid of them.”  She paused, thinking it over.  “While we’re on the subject, I think I should be the one to talk to Percival.”

“That’s a disturbing idea.”

“I’m serious.  I’m sure I can make him talk.”

Midas stalked down the hall.  “The man has information we need.  If he’s going to talk, he must stay alive.  With his head attached and his vocal cords functional.”  He flashed her a pointed look.  “Understand?”  He actually sounded like he expected Gwen to slaughter their captive right then and there.

“Well, I’m not planning to walk in and kill him!”  She protested indignantly.

“With you, I find it’s better to prepare for all kinds of possibilities.”  He stopped by one of the cells and tapped a code into the keypad on the wall.  A light flashed green and the door unlocked.  “Sometimes you shoot people.  Or punch them.  Or bash them in the skull.”

“Hey, all that stuff just randomly happened to me.  I’m extremely nonviolent.”

Midas didn’t look convinced.  “Just don’t execute the man, yet.”  He began to pull the door open, only to stop short with his palm on the handle.  “I wasn’t trying to buy you.”  He said abruptly, not meeting her eyes.

“It sure felt like it, what with the money being offered and all.”

His jaw ticked.  “I just want the ring.  And when I want something, handing over a great deal of gold is usually the fastest way to get it.”

“If you want something from me, the only way to get it is to ask.  Nicely.”

“Ask… nicely?”  Midas mulled that over, like it was a riddle.  “Fuck.  Alright.”  He cleared his throat.  “Will you please sell me Arthur’s ring?”

For a brilliant man, he could be extremely slow at times.  “Nope.”

Midas glowered at her and yanked opened the door of the cell.  “You make everything more complicated than it needs to…”  His words halted mid-sentence.

The cell was empty.

Except for the bomb.