Thirteen – 05

[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.]

She could tell that he was trying not to sigh again, even as his fingers tightened around the rail.  “What do you make of it?  The story?  The explanation?”

Hecate looked up at him, her brow arching slightly.  “What do you make of it?  You have concerns—I can hear the doubt in your voice.”

“I do,” Matt admitted quietly.  “I’m just not sure that I should, all things considered.  After everything we’ve seen over the past twenty years, should anything surprise me anymore?”

“Of course they should.”  She smiled.  “What’s a life without wonder and surprise?  What’s a world without it?  Cold and dark and lonely and terrifying, and none of those are something I’d wish upon even the worst of my enemies.”

“You’ve grown more merciful with age.”

She snorted softly.  “Don’t change the subject, Matthew.  What, precisely, about their story bothers you?  Is it because they had the stories from Aoife originally?”

“No,” he said.  “Maybe yes, but that’s not all of it.  I just—the once and future king?  Arthur?  Really?”

“He really existed, though not in the way the books say he did.”  She ran a hand up and down his spine.  “And he had children and they had children—and Cameron is proof of that.”

Matt startled.  “Cameron?  But I—”

“There are two sides to every family, mo chroí.  We both know that, even if you’ve momentarily forgotten.”

He winced again and looked down at his hands.  “So you’re saying—”

“I’m saying the sword chose him for a reason,” Hecate said gently, cutting him off.  “Sometimes, the magic knows.”

“Not sometimes,” Matt murmured.

“No,” she agreed.  “Not sometimes.  It always knows—even when we don’t.  It does and there is little of it that we can deny.”

“So what do we tell them?  Do we tell them?”

“What do you think?”

He closed his eyes.  “I don’t know,” Matt whispered.  “I just don’t know.”

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