Once & Future (Once & Future #1)(84)

“I will not let Ari die,” Merlin said, pushing out the words. “I just got her back! And I will not let Arthur down. Again.”

“What will you do instead?” she asked idly. “Kill me?”

The Lady of the Lake looked sternly at the sword in Merlin’s hands and said a few words in a language that sounded older than the water and earth around them. The sword shot out of his grip and landed in Nin’s gut as she laughed.

“Now,” she said, speaking to him while impaled, as if she’d settled their debate and hoped they could move on. “What happened to you, Merlin? I haven’t had to keep you from dying in many cycles. I thought you had mastered the art of self-preservation.” She frowned mildly. “Go back to not caring, please. It was saving me so much trouble.”

Nin’s words scratched on the door of his deepest questions. Was she the reason he couldn’t seem to die? He pushed the matter aside with a great deal of effort and focused on what he’d been torn from.

“What has become of Ari?” Merlin begged. “Let me see what’s going to happen. You’ve allowed me that much before.” Nin had given him that power the last time he was in her cave.

“I had to take your future-vision back,” she said coldly. “Some vows are older even than your magic, and I promised I wouldn’t interfere with this part of the story.” Nin studied him through eyes that were silver as mercury, except when they were blue as flame. In that moment, he saw Nin clearly—and was struck by how little she cared.

He used to be more like her. He used to be able to turn off parts of his empathy, put his soul on mute. But he couldn’t go back to that, even if he wanted to.

“Show me what I’m missing,” he demanded.

“You want to know what Ari is facing?” she asked, with a sigh as weary as time. “Fine.”

She removed the sword from her abdomen with one clean sweep. Then she stirred the air as if it were water. The rippled texture gave way to a picture of Ari in armor, in the center of a sand-filled tournament ring. She looked harried, exhausted, and she was holding Excalibur in a flagging grip as an enormous dragonlike creature circled her. Its jaws descended with a vile metallic crunch. Ari winced at a spot where the dragon’s teeth had caught her between armored plates. Blood was everywhere, darkening the sand, spilling through the vision in a way that seemed to turn the pools of water around Merlin red.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”

It was happening all over again. History had doubled over on itself. Ari was going to die as he stood at Nin’s side, powerless. The picture of Ari’s battle faded, but the pain stayed with Merlin. “She needs me,” he whimpered. “We’re… friends.”

“Friends? That’s an interesting word for your relationship,” Nin mocked. “Besides, when have you ever had friends? You have Arthurs who outgrow your help. Pretending you are part of their lives will make things far more painful, Merlin. You’re just… passing through.”

Even though Merlin couldn’t see the future, he could still fear it. He imagined the horror and disgust on Val’s face when he realized that Merlin was too young for him. He saw Ari growing into her power—and leaving him behind.

Even if she lived past this day, they were doomed to lose each other. Merlin’s shaking leg gave out, and he fell to the rocks. Nin studied him with a cocked head, a finger to her perfectly formed chin. “You know, I thought watching you age backward would be more fun, but we’ve gotten to the point where it’s mostly ridiculous and mildly shameful.”

“You try being a teenager.” Merlin pushed to his feet, looking for a way out of this place, even though he doubted one existed. But if Nin had thought showing him Ari in a tournament ring would be enough to mollify him, she didn’t know him. She only knew the Old Merlin.

He hummed, warming up his magic.

Nin’s ethereal face turned slightly frantic. “If you stop being a child about all of this, I will end your backward aging.”

“You… what?”

Nin took a step closer to Merlin, closer than she’d ever been, crowding his thoughts, pushing out Ari with her all-consuming glow. Nin reached out, her bright fingers touching the wound on his leg.

It faded, just like the picture of Ari had.

“The time has come,” Nin said. “You’ve gotten close enough, and frankly I don’t want to watch this show anymore. It’s become so formulaic. The good ones always do.” Anger clawed its way into Merlin’s thoughts. All this time, through all of this tragedy, the Lady of the Lake had been watching as if his life were some cheap form of entertainment?

“You’ve watched those Arthurs die, and you did nothing?” His questions took a hard left into the personal. “You watched me kiss Art and… walk away?”

“That bit was quite sad,” she said, putting her fingers to her lips as if she still savored the memory. “Now, dear Merlin, let me return you to your parents. You’ll be done with your backward stroll through time. You won’t be alone, and you’ll never have to be a squalling infant. Everyone gets what they want.”

Her words pierced Merlin’s mind like a lance, shattering his determination to return to Ari into a thousand tiny shards.

“I have… parents?” he asked blankly. There were no parents in his memories, even the earliest ones. He’d searched them endlessly, looking for the smallest clue of their existence. With so many centuries at his disposal, he’d had plenty of time to torture himself over it. The only bit of physical evidence that he’d even had of a life before he first awoke in the crystal cave had been that tiny wooden falcon. He stuck a hand in his pocket, suddenly afraid that he’d lost the one from Lionel. It was still there, small and solid and rough at the edges, tethering him to his new life.