Chapter Eight

 

Midas (no last name given) will furnish Guinevere Pendragon and her daughter with shelter, food, reasonable support in the face of their enemies, and the supplies necessary to enact her campaign, on the condition that she pay him back for all expenses once Camelot has been returned to her control.

He may offer input on the campaign, as he deems necessary, with the understanding that Guinevere Pendragon is in command of the offensive and in charge of all strategic planning.  (Please note emphasis on the word “all.”)

Clause 9- Partnership Responsibilities of Midas (no last name given)

 

“I think I should help with the planning of this war.”  Midas sat behind his hideously extravagant desk, looking exactly like a real businessman.  Unbending, professional, intimidating…  It was no wonder so many people missed the fact he was a marshmallow.  “Things will be a lot quicker.”

Gwen frowned.  She’d just walked into the room and already she was lost. “Is this why you called me in here?”

She’d been hoping for a more “I’m the King of Camelot now and I want to learn about my new responsibilities” kind of topic.  It worried her how little Midas cared about being king.  Why had he agreed to marry her, if he didn’t care about being king?  It didn’t make any sense and Gwen liked it when everything made sense.

“Yes.”  Midas clicked his pen, like he was poised to jot down some notes.  “Ever since Percival attacked you yesterday, I’ve been thinking I need to take a more active role in your war.  It’s become imperative that we end this as swiftly as possible”

“Technically, he attacked you.”  Thank God she’d been there to save him.

“Well, now he’s locked up in my dungeon and I want to help you win this war.”

Gwen considered that.  “Clause 9- ‘Partnership Responsibilities of Midas’ says…”

Midas cut her off.  “I’ve read Clause 9 and it clearly states that I can offer input on strategies.”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

“So, I’m offering.”  He interjected and held his pen at the ready.  “Now, what is the precise number of dead you’d find acceptable?”

“Um…”  Gwen gave into the inevitable, trying to match his detached tone.  His voice was always so damn calm and reasonable.  “I don’t know.  A small number, I guess. Very small.  I told you, I want to win with as little bloodshed as possible.  That’s why I need the wand.  It can destroy Dark Science.  My father promised it would cleanse the whole kingdom.”

“But you have no idea where the wand is, correct?”

“Right.  Merlyn just said, ‘It’s the very last place he’d want to look.’ And I guess I haven’t looked there, yet.”  She tilted her head.  “Do you think Merlyn meant the last place the Scarecrow would look?”  She mused.  “I’ve been thinking he meant Arthur.  Maybe that’s why I can’t find it.”

“Regardless, searching for it will take far longer than open warfare.  Are you sure you’re only willing to accept a small number of casualties?”  From the way Midas watched her, it seemed like he expected her to greenlight the mass slaughter of half the kingdom.

“I don’t care how long it takes. We’re not the villains here, Midas.  We can’t act like it.”

His brutally unhandsome face didn’t so much as flicker. “Of course, I’m the villain.  Bad folk are always the villains.”

“No, you’re not.”  Gwen sat down across from him, surprised he would say such a thing. She’d seen evil and this man wasn’t it.  “I wouldn’t have married a villain.”

Not again.

“Except you already have.”  He insisted.  “I’m your husband.  And I’m the Baddest man you’ll ever meet, Guinevere.  Everyone in this kingdom is scared of me.”

He was right about that part.  Which was why he was the best choice to protect Avalon.  Gwen might not understand his motives for doing it, but she believed Midas would keep her daughter safe.  He’d given her his word.  Besides, she’d seen the corner of his mouth flick upward as Avi talked to him.  All through dinner the night before, Avalon had chattered at him about the rocking-horseflies in the vast garden and Midas had patiently listened.  In Gwen’s book, that was far better than any arbitrary designation of “Good” on his birth certificate.

“We need to try every other option, before we resort to violence.” She decided.  “You know it’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m physiologically incapable of knowing right from wrong, according to the prison psychiatrists.”  His tone stayed calm as he related the news, watching her for a reaction to that nonsense.

“That’s ridiculous.  You’re a kind and gentle man.  It’s why I came to you.”

She could read a glimmer of frustration in his eyes.  “Someone actually told you that?  Told you to come to me, because I was kind and gentle?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“Why does it matter who they are?”

“Because, there is nobody in this land or any other who would advise you to trust me.  Not unless they had some other agenda.  Have you considered that?”  He sounded irritated, like he didn’t understand why she didn’t understand.  “I’m an extremely Bad person.  Perhaps they’re trying to set you up.”

“They’re not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know, okay?  And, I swear, they had nothing but positive things to say about you.”

“Then they’re a liar.”

“I don’t think so.”  The man was an impossible mix of contradictions.  Suspicious and trusting.  Unbending and generous. Cold and hot.  …God, he was really, really hot.  More importantly, he was also honorable straight down to his soul.  She looked into his eyes and knew that he’d do everything in his power to help her.

Gloved fingers drummed on his armrest, his restless energy seeking an outlet.  “For a woman who’s usually so blunt you seem to be very dodgy on the subject of who sent you to me.”

“I just don’t see that it matters.”

“Was it your father?  He could remember the future.  Did he see… me?”

Gwen shifted uncomfortably.  “Can we go back to planning how we’ll save the kingdom?”

Midas wasn’t satisfied, but he let it drop.  “I can’t depose the Scarecrow as efficiently, if we’re going to be squeamish about the methods.  That’s what I’m trying to say.  But, if you untie my hands, I could have this over within the week.”

“A week?”

He held up his gloved palms.  “I have extremely persuasive hands.”

She studied his leather-clad fingers, wondering if he ever missed the sensation of touching things with his skin.  He must.  It made her sad to even consider it.  Midas had done a lot for her.  Maybe she could figure out a way to help him.

“Are you sure you can’t cure your curse?”

“I’m sure.”

“Because maybe I can figure out something you haven’t thought of yet.  I’m a very logical thinker.”

He arched a brow.  “The curse lasts until I get everything.”

“Like… everything?  Everywhere?”

“Like everything everywhere.”

“Well, how are you supposed to get everything everywhere?”

“I’m not.”  He shrugged, like it was no big deal.  “I’ve tried, of course.  But, so far, I haven’t been able to buy the entire world.  I doubt I ever will.  Hence, the permanence of my curse.”

“Oh.”  She frowned, thinking that over.  “Well, there must be a way.”

“Can we go back to planning how we’ll save the kingdom?”  He asked, repeating her words, because he was a kind and gentle wiseass.  “That’s all that matters.  Let me clear the path, so we can win this war now.”

That was waaaay more tempting that it should have been.  To have the fighting finally over…  To allow Avalon to play outside without worry…  To be able to sleep through the night…  But what would the cost be?

Gwen took a deep breath.  “If we did it your way, how many of Camelot’s citizens would die?”

“Most of them?”  It was a bored guess.  “Perhaps more.  But the majority will be Bad.  The Scarecrow will send them into battle first.”

“You think that makes me feel better?”

“It would make most Good folk feel great.”

“I don’t believe that.”  She shook her head.  “We can defeat the Scarecrow without destroying our kingdom.  Good or Bad, most of the people in Camelot are innocent.  We can’t become worse than the man we’re fighting to stop.”

“My God.”  Midas’ eyes rolled towards the hideous fresco on the ceiling.  Unicorns and centaurs frolicked against a garish sunset.  Some poor soul must have developed permanent neck damage painting the acres of space and the result was an affront to art critics everywhere.  “How in the hell do you have a reputation for being heartless?  You’re so damn nice it’s a wonder you’ve survived at all.  You’ve lived inside a palace your whole life, so you have no idea of the monsters that lurk in the dark.”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea.  Things get pitch fucking black down in a dungeon.”

That remark caught him off guard.  Midas glanced at her sharply and a smile curled his mouth, softening the harsh angles of his unhandsome face.  “It amazes me that you can make cursing sound so classy.  How do you do that?”

“I went to a really progressive school.”

“No, you didn’t.  You didn’t go to any school, in fact.  You had tutors training you from the cradle, preparing you to be Arthur’s queen.  Your father saw your marriage in a prophesy, on the day you were born, and no one seemed to question it, after that.  That’s all you’ve ever known.”

He was trying to knock her off balance, but she wasn’t surprised he knew about her past.  Midas probably had his goons compiling research on her, trying to discover every hidden piece of her life.  Real power came from information, after all, and he was a very powerful man.

In this case, though, it wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good.

“It’s pointless to bother searching for my nefarious secrets.”  She told him and it was true.  The ones she had were too well-hidden, even for him.  “I’m really not very interesting.”

He scoffed at that.

Avalon came dashing through the door, blonde curls bouncing in a messy disarray.  Leaves and twigs were all tangled into the bright strands, the ribbon that had been tied around her head long gone.  No matter how hard Gwen worked at it, it was simply impossible to keep the girl’s hair under control.

“Hi, Mommy.”  She sang out and then turned to Midas without waiting for a response.  “I need a sword for Lyrssa.”  She told him, out of breath.  “It’s real important.”  To prove her point she held up one of her new fashion dolls.  “She keeps losing all the fights!”

“Um…” Midas glanced over at Gwen for guidance.

She settled back to watch him squirm, in no mood to assist.

Midas’ eyes narrowed, seeing that she was leaving him to his own devices.  “Alright.”  He focused on Avalon and seemed to square his shoulders.  “I don’t own a sword for your doll.  Give me an hour and I’ll buy one.  I don’t know from where, but somebody must sell miniature weapons.”

“I doubt it.”  Gwen chimed in unhelpfully.

“Lyrssa can’t wait a whole hour!”  Avalon sounded scandalized by the very idea.  “She needs her sword now.  She’s losing and it’s not fair!”

At this point, any experienced parent would tell the child that they would have to be patient or, more likely, explain that there was no such thing as a doll sword.  Instead, the Kingpin of Camelot nodded like Avalon was making perfect sense.  “I understand.  We’ll just have to make her one ourselves, then.”

Avi perked up.  “Good idea.”  She hurried over to Midas’ side.  “How we’s gonna do that?”

Midas took the doll in one massive hand, looking her up and down.  “Well, she’s not very big.”

“Trystan says size isn’t important in battle, just you’s willingness to kill and die for glory.”

Gwen rolled her eyes skyward and looked over her shoulder to where Trystan was standing in the doorway.  “Really?”  She demanded.

“What?  It’s the fucking truth.”

“Cursing is a no-no.”  Avi informed him.

Midas handed the doll back to Avalon.  “Hold on, I have an idea.”  He began searching through drawers in his desk.  “I have it here somewhere… Ah!”  He pulled out a letter opener, which appeared to be made of platinum and studded with sapphires the size of raisins.  “Here, this is the right size and not sharp enough to hurt little girls.  Let’s see if it suits Lyrssa.”

Avalon wedged the priceless artifact into her dolly’s hand and beamed at Midas.  “Thank you!”  Delighted that her toy was properly armed, she ran from the room, again.  “Bye-bye, Mommy.”  She called as she went.

“Bye, baby.”

Trystan sighed and trailed behind her.

Midas stared after them, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You’re going to spoil her.”  Gwen warned, trying not to be insanely charmed by the big marshmallow.  “Giving Avi presents is not a great way to ignore her.”

He shrugged, pretending he had no idea what she meant.  “The letter opener is a small thing.”

“A small thing worth a big fortune, I’m guessing.  What if she loses it?”

“Then, I’ll buy her another.”  He didn’t look worried.

“Clause 3- ‘Care and Protection of Avalon’ says…”

Midas cut her off.  “It was just a letter opener, Gwen.  Not a private island.”  He muttered defensively.  “The child asked for my help and I gave it.  I believe that fits within Clause 3’s parameters.  What would you have had me do differently?”

She sighed, because he was right.  “Nothing.  It’s not that.  I just don’t want Avalon to be disappointed if our fake marriage…”

“It’s a real marriage.  There’s a real marriage scroll to certify its authenticity, as I’ve reminded you before.”

“…If our business arrangement doesn’t work out.”

Midas glanced at her through his lashes.  “I think it’s working out fine.  Don’t you?”

“So far, yes!” It was working out better than she’d even imagined.  “But what if something goes wrong?  Avalon is very sensitive and she likes you.  …A lot.”

Midas blinked, surprised and pleased.  “I like her, too.”

He didn’t get it.  Gwen picked her words carefully.  “Avalon has had very little positive male attention in her life.  Arthur never bonded with her and my father died before she was born.  Mainly, it’s just been Galahad.  That’s one of the main reasons I wrote Clause 3. If you’re not careful, Avi could get... attached to you.”

Midas arched a skeptical brow, like he couldn’t imagine that happening.  “So she’s attached to Galahad?”  He asked, because he always seemed to focus on the wrong part of her lectures.

“She loves Galahad.  We both do.  It hurt Avi terribly when he was banished.”  She would never forgive Arthur for that. …Or for so many other things.  “I tell her that he’ll come back soon and I can just hope it’s true.”

Midas’ jaw ticked.  “Who is the child’s real father?”  He asked abruptly.  Maybe he was hoping to catch her off guard.

It worked.  Gwen flinched a bit.  “‘The child’ has a name.”  Which he never used, as if he was afraid it might taint her by association.  “You can call her ‘Avalon,’ Midas.  Lightning won’t strike you dead.”

“Who is Avalon’s father?”  He corrected, his face expressionless.

“Arthur is Avalon’s father.”

“She says otherwise.”  He paused.  “Arthur said otherwise.”

“Never publically.  He always acknowledged Avi as his heir in public.”  Gwen met his eyes dead on.  “This is going to be her kingdom, one day.”  That was another reason they needed to win the war without a slaughter.  If Avalon came to her throne on a sea of Bad folk blood, half the kingdom would hate her forever.  “You said you’d help me win it for her.”

“And I will.”  He leaned closer to Gwen over the width of the desk, his gaze flicking down to her wedding band and then back to her face.  “But, if something else is going on here, you should tell me about it now, before it fucks us both.  If there is another man with a claim on you and Avalon, I need to prepare…”

Gwen cut him off.  “Arthur is her father, Midas.”  She stressed every word.

He wasn’t convinced.  “Avalon disagrees.”  He reiterated flatly.

Gwen weighed her possible responses to that remark and went with silence.

“We need to be partners in this.”  Midas pressed.  “I don’t think less of you for not feeling bound by your wedding vows to Arthur.  I’m sure he gave you plenty of reasons to find someone else.  He wasn’t faithful, either.  But, I told your daughter and I’ll tell you:  I’m not Arthur.  You don’t need to lie to me.”

“I know you’re not Arthur.”

For one thing, Arthur would never ask to be her partner.  He certainly wouldn’t have wanted her “input” on anything of importance.  He would’ve wiped out most of Camelot’s peasants in his quest for glory, without a second thought to Gwen’s wishes.

For another thing, when she was with Arthur, she’d never felt this… unsettled.  Being close to Midas left her skin flushed and tight.  It was exciting.  That interlude when he’d fixed her coat had been extremely pleasant.  So had their wedding kiss.

She wanted Midas.  Why shouldn’t she have him?

Sex was a completely natural part of life, after all.  Especially when you were fake-married.  It was very rational for a fake-wife to sleep with her fake-husband.  In fact, the more Gwen considered it, the more natural and rational the idea became.

Except Clause 7- “Separate Lives and Other Relationships” allowed Midas his freedom.

Damn it, why had she included that part?  Why had Midas agreed to it?  He might project a cool exterior, but his eyes were molten as they watched her.  Hungry.  Logically, that had to mean he wanted her back.  His golden gaze followed every move she made, burning a trail of primal heat and masculine focus.  Gwen was a pragmatic, feet-on-the-ground kind of girl.  She wasn’t imagining this connection between them.  He could feel it, too.

Probably.

“Did Galahad tell you to come to me?”  Midas asked abruptly, switching suspects.

“Gal is banished.  How could he tell me anything?”

Midas frowned at that non-answer.  “Why was Galahad banished?”  He tried.  “There must’ve been a big reason for the Captain of the King’s Men to get permanently expelled from Camelot.”

“Galahad betrayed Arthur.”

The pen snapped in Midas’ hand and he didn’t seem to notice.  “Betrayed him with you?”

“Yes.” He used one word answers all the time, why couldn’t she?

Midas stared at her.  “Oh.”  He said, clearly inferring all kinds of terrible conclusions from that single syllable.

Gwen should just leave it at that and let him think the worst.  It would be much safer.  Better to have him believe she was a cheating wife than let him continue poking around.  He was way too clever.  God only knew what he might piece together.

…Except, Gwen didn’t want Midas to think the worst.

“Galahad helped me destroy the Dark Science laboratory.”  She blurted out. “The night I broke the animals out, he was with me.”

Golden eyes sparked with hope.  “That’s how he betrayed Arthur?”

“Yes.  I don’t like to say he was there, because it wasn’t his fault.  It was all my doing and he’s the one who paid for it.”  That was still hard to bear.  “We burned the White Rabbit’s first lab to the ground.  That evil bunny rebuilt it, but we set the program back for a year.  It was the right thing to do, regardless of what anyone says.”

Midas set the pieces of the broken pen down and leaned back in his chair, looking relieved.  “Tell me.”  He said simply.

And so she did.

Gwen had had no one to talk to in so long.  The words just spilled out of her.  “The Scarecrow had two perfectly innocent trolls kill each other right in front of us.  It was horrible.  Then, I found out about the animal experiments.  Found out all the evil plots the Rabbit had been dreaming up.  I couldn’t allow anyone else to suffer.  I tried to reason with Arthur, but,” she shrugged in defeat, “he wasn’t going to stop the madness.  I needed to close down the lab myself.  Galahad agreed and volunteered to help me come up with a plan.”

“And the best plan you two could come up with was arson?”

“What else could we do?”  She rubbed her temples, hating to remember it.  “It seemed very logical at the time.  It was all my idea, but Gal was the one who took the blame.  Percival saw him that night.  I’m not sure how, because Galahad is so skilled and Percival’s an idiot.  But, somehow he was caught and Arthur found out everything.”

“Did Arthur know about your involvement?”

“Of course.  I told him.”

“You told Arthur you’d burned down his lab?”

“I was trying to save Galahad.  He’s my best friend.  I thought Arthur would turn his attention to me, but Gal denied I was even there.  He wanted to shield me, the way he always does.  Arthur was happy to have his full confession and wouldn’t listen to me.  I think he just wanted us separated.  Gal was convicted of High Treason and shipped off to who-knows-where.”

“Galahad must have been very determined to protect you.”

“Oh, Gal will always do what’s right, no matter the cost.  Always defend people who need help.  It’s the primary vow he took as a knight and a huge part of who he is as a man.  Basically, Galahad is…” Gwen hunted for the right adjective, “perfect.”

Midas’ expression darkened, again.  “Perfect.”  The word had a snarled edge to it that seemed out of character for such a soft-spoken man.  “You actually just called Galahad perfect.  Fucking hell.  I can only imagine how close you are to your ‘best friend’ to have such a rosy view of him.”

Gwen arched a brow, not appreciating his attitude and insinuations, even though she’d done nothing to help him understand.  “Galahad is perfect.  Ask anyone.”

“Un-fucking-believable…”  There was a laptop open on Midas’ desk and it made a sudden chirping sound, signaling an incoming message.  He glanced at the screen and arched a brow.  “Well, it certainly took him long enough.”  He muttered.  His eyes went from the computer, to Gwen, and then back again.  A frown tugged at his mouth.  “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

Gwen wasn’t surprised.  Arthur had always wanted to exclude her, too.  There was no reason to expect more from Midas.

…Somehow she did, though.

Hiding her disappointment, she nodded and got to her feet.  “Certainly.”  She murmured and headed for the door.  “I’ll just wait out in the hall.”

Of course, she didn’t say anything about closing the door behind her.

Leaving the gilded entry ajar, meant she could still see and hear everything that happened in the office.  Since Gwen already had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with her, she had no problem eavesdropping on his mysterious call.

Midas waited until she left and then reached over to click the mouse.  “Hello, Scarecrow.  Calling to ask about wedding gifts?”