Ari crossed the cabin and shut the door to the hallway, no doubt hoping she could keep her grieving, injured parents from having to relive their son’s death. “Kay wasn’t fighting when he died,” she said, sadness etching her words. “He was telling the truth. About me.”
“And you were the thing Mercer feared most,” Gwen said, her voice reaching across the rather notable distance between them. “A girl they couldn’t control, who wouldn’t stop talking. That’s the scariest damn thing in the universe.”
Another huge explosion silently lit up the space outside Error’s largest window. Debris went free-floating everywhere. “What is all that?” Lam asked.
“Looks like food,” Val said. “Billions of snacks. That must have been the grocery section.”
“A twenty-one-snack salute,” Merlin murmured with surprising joy.
Ari gave a sad laugh. “Well, now it really is his funeral. And at least we saved Kay’s baby,” she added, running a hand down Error’s riveted wall.
The baby in question was Kay’s ship, of course, but the words conjured up another meaning. Everyone’s eyes went to Gwen’s stomach, including the queen’s.
“Truly?” Jordan asked, wiping her brow in tired disbelief.
“I knew it,” Val muttered. “You can’t get something like that past a good adviser.”
Merlin felt slightly ashamed that he hadn’t noticed Gwen’s pregnancy, though of course he’d been trying to ignore the reality that Gwen and Kay were together in the first place.
Gwen and Ari looked away from each other. Merlin ached for them, in exactly the way he’d feared he would. They were bound together in all of this, and yet, they were also forced apart by the details.
The knights continued to watch as Heritage broke into large pieces of space trash, spreading out like a supernova of consumerism. This time Mercer was not chasing them down. No one was chasing.
The Mercer faction on Heritage had exploded as efficiently as the ship. The moment the Administrator died, the associates abandoned their posts, their weapons, their uniforms. Merlin had seen many of them bartering for passage on civilian ships. It reminded him of some of the more infamous beasts of his past. Cyborgs, kraken, white supremacists. None of them were much of a threat without their head. And Ari had decapitated the Mercer Company.
Now the universe needed leadership. A breath of life to answer this much death. Merlin would help Ari get everything in place, of course.
Ari moved to the cockpit. “We’re going to Ketch.” She paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. “I want to set up a new kind of government from there. One where every planet has a voice.”
Well, perhaps Ari didn’t need quite that much guidance. After all, she had always been stronger than Arthur. And when she stopped letting her loneliness guide her, she was a much better listener.
If she was prepared to lead the universe to a new age of peace, did that mean Merlin could live his life? What was left of it anyway?
“If anyone wants to go somewhere else, I’ll drop you off. But know that my home is your home. You’re all welcome.” Merlin watched Ari’s eyes lock on Gwen’s. They were the figureheads, after all. Half of this band belonged to Ari. Half to Gwen.
“I’ve always wanted to see Ketch,” Gwen said, slipping to Ari’s side. “If you want to stay with me, that is where I’m going. Let’s just hope that the Lionelians are still there and safe.”
“If they aren’t, I’ll find them,” Ari said solemnly. “Every single one.”
“I know,” Gwen’s fingers slipped between Ari’s.
Val slumped into Merlin’s shoulder. As much as Merlin wanted to get back to their fiery mid-battle kissing, there was a more pressing matter.
“You’re hurt,” he said, touching Val’s back lightly. Val winced. Merlin wavered between pride at having saved Val’s life with a sword to an associate’s gut, and distress that Val had still gotten stabbed in the process.
“May I wrap that for you?” Merlin asked.
“Shirtless fun is shirtless,” Val said, his eyes half open. He sank a little, dragging Merlin with him, seeming to feel his injury all at once.
“Use Kay’s room,” Ari said. “It’s yours now.”
“But… don’t you want…?” Merlin sputtered.
“I can’t go in there,” Ari said.
Merlin looked to Gwen. And her stomach.
“I’m in much better shape than Val at the moment,” Gwen said. “And my baby has already survived a battle, so if you start treating us like we’re two delicate flowers, I’ll happily stab you in the other thigh.” Gwen ducked into the cockpit, leaving Merlin to wonder where the original thigh-stabber had gotten off to.
He hadn’t seen Morgana since the height of the action. She’d vanished, like she always did. At least she’d turned up when she was needed. She had helped Ari, even if it wasn’t a direct route to putting King Arthur to rest. Maybe that body he’d given her—and accidentally taken back—had done Morgana some good. He made a mental note to drop her back into corporeal form the next time she resurfaced.
Merlin stood with great care, pulling Val along with him into Kay’s room. It felt a little strange to claim it, knowing that Kay would have hollered at him for putting so much as a foot over the boundary. “I promise not to go in the pantry without permission,” he whispered to Kay’s ghost.
As Merlin reached to close the door, Ari appeared, catching the latch. “Don’t make us turn off the gravity on you two.”
“Wh-what?” he sputtered.
“My childhood best friend and my magician… it’s official?”
“Stranger things have happened,” Merlin pointed out, his cheeks flushed as hard as a sunrise. Ari smiled, a stiff, small curve of her lips that promised she would come back from her losses. That they had not defeated her, and that there was much left to do, and see, and feel. Merlin smiled back, trying to infuse his heart with the same sort of hope.
Merlin bandaged Val’s wound while he was still semi-conscious, and then sat at his side for at least a day, until Val awoke, eyelids fluttering. He pulled the blankets down, as if he needed to get up at once. As if he’d already missed too much of the action.
The great sweeping-away of blankets revealed Val’s chest. Merlin had seen it while he was wrapping Val up, but out of politeness and a sense of self-preservation, he had tried not to linger. Here it was again. Lovely and smooth. Merlin gave a cough as dry and crumbling as an old book.
“Is that how you look at everyone who gets stabbed?” Val asked, a sleepy smile sliding over his face. “Or just me?”
“Is there something I can… do for you?” Merlin asked. “Do you need anything?”
Val nodded. “I’m thirsty.”
Merlin picked up a glass of water from the table near the bed, hands shuddering. If he’d had a whisper of magic left in his body, he would have used it to stop them. Steady them. But he’d used it on leaving Nin’s cave of anguish, and now all he had to offer Val was himself. And the water.
He raised the rim of the glass to Val’s mouth and tipped it. When he pulled it away, Val’s lips glistened. “This is the sort of terrifying I usually run from at top speed,” Merlin whispered.
Damn Ari with her damned inspiring honesty.
Merlin waited for Val’s lips to bloom with disappointment. “But you’re not running,” he said. “You’re right here.” He pushed back to make a space for Merlin on the bed. Merlin sat, forming an instant catalogue of every place that he almost touched Val.
Damn body with its damned feelings.
“Yes, well, I’ve had some forced epiphanies,” Merlin said.
Val propped himself on an elbow to look at Merlin better, letting the blanket slide farther down his chest, revealing the line that cut toward his hips. “What happened when you passed out?”
Merlin found he couldn’t wait another moment to tell someone. And the someone he’d been waiting for—so very long—was Val. “I was trapped by an ancient enchantress who—”