And I was sure that Merlin had privately commanded Corvin to serve as my custodian—something that was completely unnecessary and completely annoying. Corvin's guardianship started the moment he walked in on Hardric, another of the "magical elite," and me in the training hall after midnight. We'd beensparring—justsparring—until we started sparring in a different way—a carnal way. Hardric's hands had slid beneath my tunic, while his tongue invaded my mouth with a hunger that matched my own.
Until Corvin walked in like a dark cloud and immediately put a stop to everything. The next morning, my bedchamber, which had been located in the training tower with all the others, was suddenly relocated to Merlin's tower. Prime location, technically. A sign of favor.
But I knew better.
My new chamber sat directly below Merlin's study and beside Corvin's. I had no evidence that Corvin had played the part of informant to Merlin, but beds didn't relocate themselves. From that day on, Corvin had become my permanent shadow, and I did everything in my power to infuriate said shadow.
"Is there something else?" I asked him when he didn't leave right away.
"Just making certain you're prepared."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm always prepared."
He raised a single brow like he always did to my plentiful boasts. "That remains to be seen."
"I survived your constant nagging, Corvin. That makes me prepared for anything."
It was the same as it always was with us—we bickered and sparred with words like schoolchildren fighting over the last sweet cake. Our conversations inevitably devolved into these petty arguments about my training, my readiness, my supposed need for constant supervision. Yet beneath every sharp retort and cutting glance, there was always this strange, electric tension crackling between us like lightning before a storm.
It wasn't tension born from irritation or genuine dislike, though I'd tried to convince myself otherwise countless times. No, this was something else—something that made my pulse quicken whenever he stepped too close during training, something that turned his casual touches into burning brands against my skin. The way his amber eyes would darken when I challenged him, the subtle tightening of his jaw when other men looked at me too long, the careful distance he maintained as if he didn't trust himself to come closer. But, of course, he never had and never would act on his impulses because then he'd find himself in an unenviable position with Merlin. And that was something Corvin would never risk.
"Guinevere, do not test Corvin's patience," Merlin said, not bothering to turn around to face either of us, instead keeping his attention on the star chart that hovered in the chamber's dim light.
"You're reprimandingme?" I nearly choked on my own indignation.
"Yes. I know how you insistently prey on Corvin."
The man in question gave me a snide smile, and I responded with a frown. Merlin, meanwhile, traced delicate adjustments to the glowing celestial bodies suspended in mid-air, each tiny movement causing ripples of light to ricochet through the miniature cosmos.
"As we were discussing," Merlin continued, "every single one of you is rare and valuable. But you aredifferent."
He looked at me then and nodded, his hand hovering over a constellation before dropping it suddenly. The glowing stars dimmed momentarily, as if responding to his hesitation. His fingers trembled slightly—something I'd rarely witnessed from the usually composed Archmage.
"Yet you never explain how or why, just that I'm different."
I wondered if he had this conversation with all the trainees.
A shadow passed across Merlin's face, deepening the creases around his eyes. The constellation he'd been manipulating—one I recognized as the Weeping Sorceress—flickered and then stabilized, throwing blue patterns across the stone floor.
For a moment, Merlin seemed like he might have been on the verge of saying more, his expression unusually vulnerable.
"Why did you choose me for this mission?" I demanded again, this time throwing my arms against my hips.
"I have answered that question."
I rolled my eyes. “Your answers are non-answers.”
“Now is not the time for long-winded explanations."
“It’s never the time foranysort of explanations,” I grumbled, shaking my head.
Merlin looked at me. "There are certain subjects, Guinevere, that I am incapable of repeating—certain truths that simply cannot come from my mouth, as doing so would go against the magic that protects them. Magic to which I am subservient."
I looked at Corvin, and he held his hands in the air. "I know nothing about anything."
I frowned at both of them.
"Focus on your mission, girl."
