her flush, dizzy, and spread with a warmth that fought the cold of infinite stars. Gwen was naked, chest heaving, curling fingers into Ari’s hair while her legs trembled, whispering, You’re going to leave me again. I don’t trust you. I can’t… Ari kissed up her thighs, hips, to the smooth plane between her breasts. Ari tasted Gwen’s fingers, promised that she would stay… that this time belonged to them and could be no one else’s. Not Lionel’s or Mercer’s. Not King Arthur’s or Merlin’s.
And Gwen had cried like Ari didn’t know how much Gwen needed to hear those words, and Ari had found surprising tears because she hadn’t known how much she needed to say them.
Morgana withdrew as if she’d been burned by the fire of the memory. I don’t want your mortal passions! If you stop fighting, I’ll give you what your heart desires.
Ari knew a trap when she heard one, and yet her longings burst forth as if a door had been thrown open—possibly by Arthur himself. Did he want this to happen? Wouldn’t he stand with her against Morgana?
At first Ari’s desires were a neat arrangement of her knights, Merlin, Gwen, Error, but the surface rippled like a mirage on blistering sand, revealing a deeper ache. Ari wanted to go home, but then, Arthur wanted it, too. She could feel his guiding hand as if she didn’t just want to go back to Ketch; she needed to.
Home, Ari whispered.
Morgana made an exasperated sound and chucked Ari like a stone.
Ari landed hard on the frozen ground, face first, still gripping Excalibur. By a miracle, she hadn’t impaled herself on her own sword. She gasped, sore all over. And opened her eyes.
Ari wasn’t on Urite.
She was on a crystal-clear shell. Some kind of thick glass. And below her—a solid death drop below—lay an intricate, crenellated city made of red stone with wide-arching windows.
“Omaira!” Ari sat up, reeling around to take in her surroundings. Beyond the capital city, a red desert spread out below her, highlighted with magnificent oranges and yellows. Large animals crawled in the distance, bragging of life. Tears stung Ari’s eyes and at the back of her throat where she could taste how much she’d missed Ketch—a sensation swiftly soured by a logo stamped into the glass barrier. The Mercer M.
Morgana hunkered beside Ari. “Interesting. My magic cannot get you through this.”
“Great.” Ari dusted her hands off and stood. “I didn’t actually ask you to bring me here.”
“But you did. And Arthur did as well.” Her dark eyes gleamed, and Ari hated that she was right. The fact that she hadn’t spoken her desire out loud was true, but also a technicality. “He is close to speaking with me, I can tell. I’ve waited several millennia for this.”
“Morgana, my friends are back on Urite. They—”
“Left that planet as planned, without you. I saw them escape the molten cannons myself.”
“Cannons?” Ari almost yelled. “Did Mercer go after them?”
Morgana leaned closer, a little too close, squinting at Ari’s face. “You are home, you insignificant string bean. That is what you asked for. Home. Focus on that.”
Ari was dizzy from the height and also maybe from the thin atmosphere. She looked down at Ketch. “Right, home. Down there. How am I supposed to get through the barrier?”
“My power is internal. So is time travel, although the physical aspects of space travel do require a little blood from a certain scrawny, self-aggrandizing—”
“Morgana.”
“Yes, well, we probably needed Merlin for this. An oversight on both of our parts, come to think of it. I don’t have any physical magic. Technically, I cannot even touch you.” Ari felt a chill that might have been Morgana’s fingers. “All of you waste your bodies. You have no idea of their power, of what you’d be without them. If I hear Merlin complain about his frail, backward body once more, I’ll lock him in the cell of his worst memory and be done with it.”
Ari couldn’t help herself. “I’ve seen his worst memory. It isn’t a prison. He’s going to face his fears. Even if that means facing down Nin herself.”
“How could you be naïve about the Lady of the Lake?” Morgana asked, stunned. Ari didn’t like that she’d shocked her; it felt like sipping spoiled milk. “You say her name like she’s one of your friends or enemies. She is neither, and you would do well to remember it.”
Ari sheathed Excalibur at her back. “Fine, but you’re jealous of Merlin’s frail body. Admit it.”