Once & Future (Once & Future #1)(40)

Merlin’s smugness lasted only as long as it took to hear Morgana’s laugh. It was as wispy as the rest of her, drizzling like cold rain. “How do you think Ari liked your little display?” she asked. “If she’s as good an Arthur as you seem to think—and oh, yes, I can tell you like this one—she should come running.”

Merlin faltered. His hands dropped to his sides. Of course Ari would come if she saw a show of Merlin’s magic exploding across the city. Merlin’s plan had been to distract Morgana with a battle. Instead, she had used his magic for her own purposes.

And now the crowd was chanting his name in a way that echoed through the unnatural city, calling out to Ari, no doubt.

“Merlin. Merlin. Merlin.”

Morgana was barely expending magic with her paltry puppet tricks. He needed to get close. Let her poison him. Only, he was shaking. Afraid. And so tired…

“Leave him alone!” Val’s arms wrapped around Merlin’s chest, stunning him with closeness, tenderness.

Morgana swiveled, making Merlin’s guts pinch. “Protective, are we? But you don’t even know Merlin. I have the long view of his life, and I promise you, it’s not pretty.” She took a step forward and raised her fingers. “I can show you, if you like.”

Val’s face flared with worry and—was that curiosity?

Sickly fear sloshed through Merlin. He didn’t want Val to have a box seat to his worst moments. But more than that, he didn’t want Morgana to have power over his friends, like she’d always had over him. He filled both of his hands with green fireballs and tossed them at Morgana’s feet.

She shook her head, like Merlin was both a silly child and a useless old man. “Have you forgotten our eternal stalemate, Merlin? Your magic can’t hurt me, and unfortunately mine can’t kill you.” She walked toward Merlin at a stately pace, dripping with confidence like some women dripped with diamonds. He did have to give her points for that. She could have all the points she wanted, as long as she didn’t win.

“Always so certain you’re going to slither past me, Morgana,” Merlin said.

“I have, several times,” she said. “Or do you not remember your dead heroes? Do you let them fade as you go on forever, caring for no one but yourself?”

Morgana was so close now that he could see the unnatural smoothness of her skin, all the places where lines should have cracked her ancient face. “Are you going to paralyze me with what happened when I was asleep again?” Merlin asked. “It’s not my fault you stay perpetually awake. You should invest in a good cave.”

Ire scratched Morgana’s face. Merlin had gotten under her icy demeanor, and it felt addictively good. “I don’t need to show you that pain again,” she spat. “Let’s find something that really hurts. Let’s visit the ways you’ve failed my brother in every lifetime, shall we?”

“This is ridiculous,” Kay said, pushing between the two of them, his burly arms casting Merlin back toward Val. “She’s not even human. How much can she actually do to us?”

Morgana was upon him in a second, a lightning strike of a woman, fast enough to give the crowd whiplash. She pressed Kay’s chest, and he crumbled like a handful of ash. He was on the ground, rolling and shouting, speaking in tongues. The only thing that Merlin could pick out was Ari’s name… until Kay fell silent.

And Lam was still down a few yards away.

Merlin had promised Ari none of her friends would come to harm. How had he failed so fast? He kept his body between Morgana and Val, arms spread wide. “Stop pestering mortals and give yourself a challenge,” Merlin taunted, his throat dry.

Morgana smiled at the invitation. Merlin knew she couldn’t drive him into the grave like she could with his Arthurs. But she could make him hurt as deeply as possible. That should have been Merlin’s motto for his role in the cycle—all of the pain, none of the death.

Morgana brushed her fingers over Merlin’s cheek, sending a shower of needles through his skin, stabbing deeper until it reached his mind. He tried to catch a glimpse of Lam and Kay. To determine if Val was safe. To make sure that Ari was far away. But Morgana pressed a thumb to his forehead, the singe of her laugh following him into a vision.

He saw the Arthurs that Morgana had killed, the memories stacked high. Arthur 9, driven to insanity. Arthur 23, suicide. Arthur 35, reduced to frantic babbling about how a dark-haired sorceress haunted his dreams.

When the pictures faded, Morgana was smiling at him. Merlin could see through her face, his focus wavering in and out. She ran her fingers down his arm, leaving trails of white-hot pain. His vision went blank, replaced by the cruelest memory.

His lover’s face so near it blurred his features, all except those bright brown eyes. The rush of Art’s kiss, the welcoming darkness. And then Merlin was pushing Art away, saying, “We can’t do this forever,” meaning those words quite literally. When Art tried to argue, to kiss him again, when he broke down and cried, Merlin tightened his jaw and lectured on all the reasons they wouldn’t work. He made himself sound wise, when all he truly felt was fear.

Merlin came out of that one lying on the ground, unable to tell if the bruising he felt was on the inside or out. He pushed up to his elbows. While he’d been stuck in his own head, Morgana had had plenty of time to cast Val to the ground, all three knights glassy-eyed. And there was more. She’d taken out the people around them, every last one.