Sword in the Stars (Once & Future #2) - Cori McCarthy Page 0,95

father,” Merlin tried. Because that was the way of time—if something had been true once, it was always part of the story.

He didn’t know how to begin missing and mourning Kay as a father. He would never be a child with a bumbling dad who captained the least likely ship among the stars. He would never be taught how to drive that ship by a frustrated and proud parent. There would be no bumbling sex talks while Kay turned magenta.

Well, Merlin had accidentally walked in on Gwen and Kay on Error once, which was even more horrifying with this new layer of meaning. He’d also stolen Kay’s face in order to break into the pantry. That felt like something a person would do with their father. When he thought about it, paging through the moments of his past, he discovered that he hadn’t lost everything he’d once feared missing. Yes, he’d sent Kairos back to become Old Merlin, made it impossible for him to live out a childhood with his mothers, but he had made it possible for him to find Gwen later on Lionel. To steal some golden days on Error with Kay. To stick it to Mercer on a quest with Ari.

He looked up and found that he’d righted the white oak tree while he’d daydreamed about his family. It had rooted itself and spread leaves toward the sun.

That night, when he lay on his bedroll under the manifold stars, he hummed a little song. He thought about hugging Lam good-bye, reuniting with Ari and Gwen, pinballing through space with Kay, kissing Val, even being righteously scorned by Jordan, and the stars spun faster and faster.

It was coming easier now.

Having a grip on this magic meant he could do something he’d wanted to ever since he saw Ari staring at the broken shards of Excalibur. A desire that had sharpened each time he saw her mooning over Arthur’s sword.

With Arthur’s spirit finally put to rest, Ari was no longer the forty-second reincarnation of a dead king. She was so much more than that. Ara Azar, Ari Helix, knight of Camelot and king of the future, lover of Gweneviere, first of her name. He would do everything in his power to make sure that no one laid claim to her.

Not Mercer. Not Nin.

So Merlin created a forge, which was harder than he expected even with the help of magic, and after spying on Nimue’s father for weeks, he learned to melt and combine metals to create iron. His forearms grew absurdly strong and his face covered with soot as he sent sparks into the blue sky, striking a steady beat. He sang the whole time, a song that he’d been writing for Ari and Gwen, the melody forged from great need and greater hope.

When it was done, the present shone in his hands, looking pretty and far too sharp.

“Just like Ari likes them.” Merlin chuckled.

And then he opened one more portal. Instead of walking through it, he sent a gift hurtling through space, toward the very same moon that kept him awake at night, thinking of dingy dance clubs and destiny.

When Merlin neared the end of his teenage years, he could no longer wait for Nin’s past to take its sweet time. Thankfully, he no longer had to. He knew how to speed things along now. He emerged from the woods, approaching the village, focused on Nin’s story. He sang as loudly as he dared, and time bent to show him the truth.

A few years passed in a few breaths. Nin stopped trying to fight, stopped struggling to make herself heard in the village. She became withdrawn as magic started to cling to her. Flowers nudged open wherever she walked. Vines slithered toward her. At first she hissed at them, sending them away. Her father ignored her surly new silences. She kept quiet as she learned that the magic nipping at her heels was not a pest, but part of her. A power she might use. That day with the sword had taught her that any great show of force from a girl would not be tolerated.

So she practiced magic in secret, just as she’d cried.

Merlin had grown up—or rather grown down—feeling sorry for himself, nursing a hole where his parents should have been. But at least now he knew that they loved him. They would have celebrated him no matter who he turned out to be. Watching Nin grow up with parents who constantly rejected her was a