Page 56 of For the Love of the Quest

“Okay.” Thomasin nodded thoughtfully. “So what does it say?”

Edith grinned, anticipation glittering in her eyes. “ ‘To reunite staff with the bearer, join Einion and the twenty thousand at the gates.’ ”

“Gates? Like the gates of Avalon?” Thomasin knew more than well enough by now that Avalon was where this quest was leading them.

“It has to be!”

“So this is it?” Thomasin’s brows rose. “The staff is the final clue?”

Edith shrugged. “We won’t know until we get there.”

Thomasin took the sheet of paper and reread the translation, which Edith had scrawled at the bottom. “Get where exactly? And who’s this Einion, a knight?”

Edith sat cross-legged at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. “Have you ever heard of Bardsey Island?”

Thomasin racked her brain but came up short. She shook her head with a slight frown.

“There’s an island off the coast of Wales that they call ‘the island of twenty thousand saints,’ and Einion was the first to be buried there. After him, the island became a holy place where only the best and bravest saints were laid to rest, although now it’s entirely abandoned.”

“How do you know all this?”

Edith’s grin grew even wider. “Because that’s not the only thing the island is known for. Legend says that Merlin himself is buried there.”

Thomasin inclined her head. “Well, I don’t know about you, but that sounds a whole lot like the gates of Avalon to me.”

Edith chewed on her bottom lip. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? That Merlin too would be buried in, or at least near, Avalon.”

“Like you said, only one way to find out.” Thomasin smirked, the thrill of the next adventure seeping into her bones.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The little fishing village of Aberdaron had a bustling market, the docks packed with vendor stalls. Most had lines of freshly caught fish hanging from the roofs of their wooden stalls. But there were a couple that sold more exciting things, fabrics and trinkets. Edith’s eye was caught by twinkling shards of colored glass that danced in the late afternoon sunlight. She drifted over to the stall, examining the wind chimes made of sea glass. Beneath them, laid out on a wooden table, were necklaces, bracelets, and rings adorned with the colored glass. The homemade jewelry, bright and colorful, was far more beautiful than any of the sophisticated pieces Edith had ever owned.

She traced her fingers lightly across the veritable rainbow of glass until they stilled over a necklace made with a simple leather cord. Dangling from it was a jagged piece of sea glass in the most brilliant turquoise she had ever seen. It was attached to the cord with a woven pouch of fine thread that wrapped around the shard. Edith pressed the tip of her finger to one of the sharper points. It could break skin if she pushed just a little harder. She liked that it was dangerous, that it was beautiful too.

Handing payment to the vendor, an eclectically dressed woman with bushy hair, Edith wrapped the cord around her hand, palming the pendant. Not wanting to miss Thomasin’s signal, she made her way over to the far end of the dock, where the crowd petered out and the swell of the ocean could be heard more clearly.

She sat on the edge, letting her feet sway back and forth over the crashing waves. Thoughts of Jay and her grandmother swarmed her mind. Edith hadn’t done right by either of them, and yet here she was somehow, on the verge of making her dreams come true. It wasn’t fair. Bardsey Island lay just beyond the waves. She was within reach of Avalon, and Edith was excited, she really was. Finding Avalon, finding King Arthur and Excalibur, it was all she had ever wanted. But there was a dread creeping into her bones, one she hadn’t expected. She was terrified of what would happen after the quest was over, after Thomasin no longer had a reason to be around her.

They loved each other. But would that be enough? When they no longer had an adventure, and Thomasin realized Edith herself wasn’t exciting? When she realized Edith, more often than not, ruined the things she touched? She had failed her grandmother, failed her family, failed Jay. It stood to reason she would ruin Thomasin next.

Her stomach soured. She alreadyhadruined her. Edith had asked her not to kill Worthing, and Thomasin listened, had given up everything. Edith hadn’t thought about it before the plea slipped from her lips. She had only been thinking that she didn’t want Thomasin to have to kill anymore, didn’t want Thomasin to have to put herself through that. But in doing so, Edith had been asking Thomasin to give up the syndicate, the only thing that had ever mattered to her. The selfish unbalance of it all was appalling. Thomasin was giving up everything so she could help Edith achieve her dreams. Edith was taking and taking and giving nothing back.She would just have to love her better, balance the scales somehow. Once Edith found Excalibur and the quest was a rousing success, then she would be able to give Thomasin everything she had promised her. Riches beyond her wildest dreams, fame and freedom. She had to show Thomasin her sacrifices hadn’t been in vain.

A sharp, melodic whistle broke through the spiral of her thoughts. Edith saw Thomasin, half hidden behind a post underneath the dock, accessible thanks to the low tide. She held a rope in her hands, and there was a triumphant smile on her lips, because attached to the rope was a midsize dinghy. Edith looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then slipped off the dock, feet squishing into the wet sand.

Thomasin hadn’t exactly bought the boat. Though Edith had brought a lot of money, it wasn’t limitless, and the weeklong stay at the inn had nearly drained her dry. She had enough to feed them—and buy necklaces—but not nearly enough to buy a boat. Edith felt bad about stealing, but they had to cross to the island somehow.

Together, they pushed the boat into the waves. With a steadying hand from Thomasin, Edith leapt into the boat, sitting down clumsily on the wooden bench. Thomasin hopped in after her, settling on the seat across from her. She picked up the oars and began to row.

Edith was content to watch. When she was with Thomasin, it was easy to quiet the self-doubt, the incessant ruminations. Thomasin was always so present, existing with abandon, making everything seem easy. Edith could lose herself in that happily.

Thomasin peppered her with questions, with observations and funny stories. A couple hours later, her voice was breathy from the exertion of rowing, but the smile never fully faded from her mouth. She seemed happy, and Edith dared to believe that maybe it was her making Thomasin happy. She didn’t know how long that wouldlast, so shouldn’t she just enjoy it while it was true? Shouldn’t she take a page out of Thomasin’s book and only worry about the current moment, instead of any future catastrophes?

It was just as that thought occurred to her that the boat began to flood. Thomasin swore, lifting her boots out of the rapidly growing puddle at the bottom of the boat. Edith lifted her skirt and searched for the source of the leak. There was a wood panel beneath Thomasin’s bench that was half rotted away. In the water, the damaged wood had started to fall away, all green and mushy.

“Where did you get this boat?” Edith asked with a polite smile.

Thomasin scooped handfuls of water, threw them overboard. “I’d rather not say.”