comes thousands of voices. Those in pain, those who have been silenced or abused or even killed. You’re supposed to listen to all of them. You’re supposed to answer every single plea. You’re supposed to take down a monster larger than galaxies with a sword as long as your leg.”
“Yes. Exactly.” Arthur turned his back, his voice sleepy. “And I must do it all myself. Power is the worst kind of loneliness.”
Arthur fell asleep while Ari managed camp. Night was never silent in the woods, never safe. Large creatures hunted in the darkness while smaller ones hid. While Arthur slept, Ari examined him: thick blonde hair, mouth slightly open, his body all twisted up like a child.
While she stared, she felt the connection between the boy king and the ancient cursed spirit perched in her soul. This was the person who would one day save Ari’s life during the Mercer attack. “Where are you buried?” she murmured to the silent voice inside. “Why aren’t you at rest?”
Ari relieved the horses of their saddles and then sat against a tree, pulling a blanket over her. It was no easy revelation to feel sorry for the king, both the young man and the ancient spirit. It had been so much easier when she merely glared at the way he smiled longingly at Gwen. She wished Merlin were here so that she could ask for his advice. How had he dealt with wanting so badly to help someone who was set up for failure? And that was really it, wasn’t it? King Arthur and his knights ended in tragedy. Every single version of the story agreed on that much.
Equality failed. Love failed. Kingdom failed.
That was his true legacy.
Ari pressed her memories back to the moment within Merlin’s magical curtain. Ari hadn’t had time to plan something romantic, she’d simply slid to one knee, her face against Gwen’s chest, enveloping her entire lady—and the baby—in her arms. Gwen held on to Ari just as tightly, and they laughed and shook off biting tears. Relieved to have found each other. Blinded by the complications still between them. Ari kissed Gwen’s belly, waiting to see if she got a response, but the bump was still. “She’s sleeping.” Gwen lifted Ari’s arms until she stood back up, towering over Gwen.
“Still she?” Ari asked. “Shouldn’t we use they until we know more?”
“I say she because I hope it’s a girl.” Gwen fisted her hands. Something was hurting her.
“Are you in pain? Contractions?”
“No. Ari, do you know the stories about Arthur’s son?”
Ari’s mind turned a corner and ran into a stone wall. Something Merlin had said when they first met floated through her thoughts like a dark cloud through a blue sky. You don’t have children, by any chance? He’d been terrified of the idea that any Arthur reincarnations might have kids. “Gwen, the baby couldn’t possibly be…”
Mordred.
Even the name made her stomach turn and her hand close on the sword at her belt.
“Mordred was the son of…” Ari had to pause and peer backward into her memories of Morgana’s Arthurian lessons on Ketch. “… Someone else. I’m sure of it.”
Gwen put a hand on Ari’s heart. Each breath felt heavy with the weight of the space between them. “But that’s just it, Ari. All the stories are different. I don’t know. I can’t know. What if I’m the one who gives birth to Arthur’s son? The murderer.”
“Won’t happen. This kid is half-Kay, not half-Camelot, and that means the only murdering will be sandwiches. Believe me?” Ari leaned in, so close to Gwen’s face that she felt that spinning inside. That perfect, out-of-control sensation of their love.
Gwen nodded many times, tears slipping free.
“I should probably kiss you before Merlin drops that curtain. I mean, can I kiss you, Gwen?”
Gwen’s yes was a press up on her toes. Their lips met soft and joyous. Warm and light. Then they parted. For the last fucking time, Ari vowed. “I don’t care that this place can’t accept us together. I know how magical we are. I’m growing old with you, lady.”
The next day, Ari’s stallion reminded her of Kay, veering off the trail to snack, baring his teeth whenever Ari pointed out that maybe he was being a jackass. “We should keep to the trees,” she called out to Arthur. “This road is a hunting ground for enemies to your kingdom.”
“My road is that bad?” Arthur said, turning backward in his saddle.
“For commoners it’s nearly a death sentence. I dodged about thirty