Kay’s face was a miserable purple-red. He was crying. “We thought you were dead!” he hollered. “We had your body! I couldn’t… You don’t know what that was like!”
“I can imagine. I was on a planet full of bodies.” Ari lowered her fist, although she was still pinning his chest with her knees. “But I’m here. I’m right here! Why is that such bad news?”
Kay’s head turned away from her, searching the crowd of their friends in the doorway. “How do we explain, Gwen? She’ll never forgive either of us.”
Ari looked to Gwen. Her face was in her hands as if the sight of them fighting had broken something open. She was… weeping. Ari had never seen that before. Never.
No.
Ari jumped up, back, slammed against the wall by her own surprise.
“I know it’s a shock,” Merlin said, picking careful steps over Kay, hands outstretched as if approaching a starving dragon. “I made the same mistake. Lancelot is always the best knight. That’s true enough, but maybe more important, he’s the knight Arthur trusts… most of all.”
Ari’s eyes moved past Merlin to Gwen, who was now on her knees beside Kay. She pulled his miserable crying face into the softest spot on her chest, whispered in his ear, combed back his hair with those fingers that belonged to Ari.
And Ari’s heart cracked.
Morgana was going to pay for this.
It was her doing that Merlin had believed Ari was dead for a year. Her fault that Ari was brokenhearted and her knights torn asunder just as they were about to head into a great battle. After the Gwen-and-Kay revelation they had flown in brittle silence all the way to Old Earth. Now Merlin stumbled away from the grove where Ari was broadcasting a signal, showing the universe how devastated the cradle of humanity had become at Mercer’s hands.
And calling the Administrator out to face her.
“Oh, dear,” Merlin said, trailing blood.
He’d asked Jordan to punch him in the face, hard enough to spout a nosebleed, and she’d been all too happy to oblige.
“This is for dropping your magic at the cost of my planet, Mage of Lionel,” she’d said, before unleashing her fury on his face.
“Ow,” he muttered, truly in pain, before returning to the rather broad playacting that was meant to lure the enchantress into his trap. Morgana was many things, but subtle had never been one of them.
“So much blood…” he said, honestly a little concerned as another gush poured through his fingers. Ari had told him that Morgana had used his blood to create the dead body on Urite. Merlin knew Morgana far too well for his own comfort. After a sampling of his power, she’d be eager for more. “I’m just bleeding magical blood everywhere!”
“Merlin, Merlin,” she said, appearing in a haze, looking even more ominous than usual on the ruined forest of Old Earth. “Can’t seem to keep your happy little band in line, can you?”
Merlin ran at her, growling—and passed through her in a cold, staticky rush.
Which was exactly the point.
“What are you doing, old man?” she asked. It was a name she must have picked up from Ari, and hearing it come from her lips made Merlin dizzy with the strange familiarity. He turned to find the lines of her body turning solid in the half-light. Her pale skin became opaque, and her cheeks filled in with a faint blush.
“Aha!” Merlin cried. “You used my magic to create a body. Now I’ve done the same to you!”
Morgana looked down at herself. She touched her arms, her chest, gave her breasts a quick but thorough groping.
“I’m not letting you keep lurking from cycle to cycle, snatching my Arthurs,” Merlin said. “Now you’re on equal footing with the rest of us.” He pointed at her bony, bare feet. “Quite literally, in fact.”
She looked at him slowly, her eyes on fire, but not with hatred for once. She looked confused, nearly grateful.
“Why would you gift me such a thing?” Morgana asked faintly. “How long will this last?”
“Considering that body you created is still in Error’s hold, I’d say it’s going to stick. Surprisingly enough, we make a good team. Or at least our magic does.” Merlin’s heated words were cooling. Morgana looked younger than Merlin had remembered. And smaller, even though she was technically the same size she’d always been.
For a moment, she was no longer the hag who had been visiting revenge on him for centuries—she was a young woman with a very famous kingly brother and the magic of Avalon running through her veins.
“I’ve longed for this day.” Her spite flooded back as she looked Merlin over. “You’ve been whining about your body for so long you’ve forgotten how glorious they are.”
Merlin shook his head, incredulous. “Bodies come with wants and pains and warts and toilet breaks. Don’t even ask me about erections.”
“I will consider it a most solemn vow,” Morgana said.
Merlin nearly laughed. It sounded like a joke. Morgana didn’t make jokes. She only twisted her cruelty into knots of sarcasm. Had Ari changed her during their time together on Ketch? She had certainly changed Ari, Merlin thought, as he regained the solid footing of his anger. “I gave you a body so you can’t poof away from the situation you’ve caused. No more poofing!”
“What exactly have I done, Merlin?” Morgana asked, advancing on him slowly. She seemed to savor the way the earth felt under her bare feet. “Have I stolen your Arthur?” The shadow of old pain passed through her eyes, but she chased it away with a smirk of righteousness. “Now you know what I have felt, these many ages. What have I done but shown her the truths you fear?”
“Hmm, let me write you a list. You’ve torn Ari away from the girl she loves. You’ve induced the worst heartbreak in the cycle by convincing everyone she was dead. AND you’ve broken up Ari’s band.”
Morgana was getting uncomfortably close.
Merlin started backing up. “Don’t you remember how Arthur’s knights kept him alive? The round table wasn’t just a decorating choice, Morgana. We’ll never finish the cycle if she falls today.” He nodded to the grove. Ari’s voice rang out, carrying at a heroic pitch. At this very second, she was calling on her allies to unite against Mercer.
“I don’t care about your little hero games,” Morgana said.
“You want to put your brother to rest,” Merlin said, and Morgana’s eyes went wide. Merlin could see the whites. She was really getting in his personal space.
“Ari told you,” Morgana said, looking a bit betrayed. She swiped at Merlin with her nails, and he leaped back. So it had come to this—a plain old catfight.
“She always tells the truth,” Merlin said. “Haven’t you noticed?” Morgana lashed out at Merlin again, and he caught her forearms in a weak grip. “You want peace for your brother, but the cycle must be completed first! Nin gave me the steps. Find Arthur, train Arthur, nudge Arthur onto the nearest—”
“How much is the Lady of the Lake bound up in this?” Morgana interrupted, looking properly afraid. “And why did you never see fit to mention it?”
“Maybe because you never asked nicely,” Merlin said, pushing Morgana away and running to put some distance between them.
“I’m not nice,” Morgana hissed from where she fell to the ground, her ancient dress now covered in dirt. “Nice is for women who haven’t had their bodies taken away and replaced by the eternal torture of people-watching. They’re so terrible to each other, Merlin.” She put her head to the ground, heavily, and keened as if she was tortured by the same images she’d given him so many times on waking from the crystal cave.
“You’re really feeling it, aren’t you?” Merlin asked, his empathy springing up in unsuspected places, like flowers out of season. “You haven’t had a body to feel their pain in so long…”
“It’s… it’s unbearable,” she gasped.
Merlin rushed to her side. He kneeled, one hand on her bony back as she tried to pull in air. He couldn’t have her dying now. How would he punish her if she was dead?
“Think of something good,” he said. “That… might help.”