Free Goddess of Legend by P. C. Cast

that is paramount to my man; choose your path, Isabel, and do what you can.
    Well, that cleared things up. Not. So the goddess was leaving it up to her? What if she screwed it up and everyone lost? She’d feel just horrible. Or maybe if she really screwed it up, she wouldn’t feel anything because she’d be dead at the bottom of Grand Lake.
    Isabel had never shied from responsibility before. But this was kind of a heavy load for which she wasn’t certain she was prepared.
    She squared her shoulders and walked up behind Arthur, touching his shoulder. Finally he stirred and turned back to her, the regret in his eyes clear.
    She smiled gently. “Please, don’t apologize, Arthur. I would be lying if I didn’t find your admission both flattering and exciting. I felt exactly the same when you materialized from behind that tree.”
    “You are being kind.”
    Isabel laughed. “That’s a word that doesn’t often show up in a sentence about me. But no, sir, kindness has nothing to do with it. You were truthful to me, and I owe you at least the same.”
    “Then may I? Just this once?” he asked.
    “But your love of your wife, Arthur? Is this not a betrayal to her?”
    He snorted. “Betrayal. That is a word I have come to know well.”
    “Meaning?”
    “I may seem the fool, Isabel, but I assure you, I am not. I am not blind to what is going on around me. Perhaps I am all well too aware.”
    Since she’d just arrived, there would be no way for her to actually know about Gwen and Lancelot, unless she’d been listening to the servants’ gossip. And she wasn’t about to get that darling Mary in trouble for something Mary didn’t do. So she feigned ignorance. “I know naught of what’s troubling you, Arthur, so I have no words to comfort you.”
    His chuckle was tinged with bitterness. “I have said more to a woman who is a virtual stranger to me than I’ve e’er said to my most trusted men.”
    Isabel stepped back to the bench and sat, then patted the place beside her. “Please, join me. I might have a theory on the matter.” She took a healthy glug of her drink, and surprisingly it was rather good.
    “By all means,” he said, taking a seat beside her. “Please, let me hear this theory of yours.”
    Isabel toyed with her necklace, making certain his attention was drawn there for a moment or two, hoping the power of the teardrop would work here. “I believe, sir, that it is sometimes much easier to unburden one’s troubles to the ear of someone who isn’t so intimately involved in the situation. A nonpartisan view, as it were.”
    “Nonpartisan?”
    “One who has little if any stake in the matter. One who has not chosen sides.” Which was a bit of a lie, because if Isabel was going to choose which fork in that road to take, she had a lot at stake in this matter. Not to mention, as nice as Gwen was, Isabel was firmly in Arthur’s court, so to speak.
    The early summer night was warm and mixed with the fragrance of lilacs and oil from the two tall lamps set on either side of the mossy path that led into the gardens. The moon was lovely in the clear night sky but not much help as it was only at about its quarter stage. Night critters filled the air with chirps and chitters that sounded comforting somehow.
    Arthur didn’t seem to be taking in the atmosphere as he was still staring from her face to her necklace and back again. “And you would be this . . . nonpartisan person?”
    “Should you want me to be.” Oh, great, she’d just signed up to be his sounding board. His psychologist. Freud would be spinning right about now. However, maybe what he spilled would revolt her so much that she’d stop obsessing over his big, swarthy hands. His lips. His eyes.
    “How do I go about this?” he asked, looking lost.
    “However you would like. Wherever and whenever.”
    He stood again and paced. Oh, man, nice butt, thighs and shoulders. His men obviously weren’t the only ones who worked out hard while he sat on