I slammed my hand against the table, water sloshing over the edge and splattering the walls. The sound echoed like a cry in the dark.
“He knew,” I whispered. “He knew from the beginning.”
Images flashed—every lesson, every long stare, every half-finished sentence. How many times had he almost said it? How many times had he swallowed the truth?
Was there ever a moment when I wasn’t just a pawn to him?
And then there was the deeper wound: the realization that my life had been scripted before I even knew how to read the lines. My idyllic childhood, the eruption of power on mytwentieth birthday, surviving the Standing Stonesbecause I carried my father's blood, being taken under Merlin's wing—it had all been part of something larger. Something hidden.
Worse still, Merlin hadn'trescuedme from chaos. He’dpreparedme for it.
And now I'm his agent against Arthur.
His daughter, sent into enemy territory. Not by choice. Without truth. Just a mask and a mission.
I stumbled back from the basin, running my arm across my eyes, trying desperately to dry the tears because they were evidence that I cared too much. And when you care too much, you hurt too much.
My jaw set as I moved to the basin and prepared the ritual to contact Merlin, my father. The familiar act—one I’d done so many times—now felt like drawing a blade. Every gesture was precise, brittle, fueled by a quiet rage simmering just beneath my surface. I wasn’t sure what I would say, only that Ihadto say something.
The water stilled. The scrying pool shimmered. Merlin’s study materialized through its depths—a familiar comfort that suddenly felt foreign. Cold.
A moment later, his face appeared—lined, weathered, expectant.
“Guinevere,” he said gently, always gently.
Beside him stood Corvin. At seeing his handsome face—the smile he gave me—the fissure inside me widened.
“I know the truth.” My voice cracked through the ritual like thunder, heavy and final.
Merlin's expression froze. "What truth?"
“I know you’re my father.”
The water shimmered as surprise flickered across Merlin’s face—brief and fleeting—before resignation took its place like a mantle worn too long. But I couldn't look at it for long. Instead,I turned my attention to Corvin's expression as it shifted—shock rippling across his features like a stone thrown into still water. His amber eyes widened, jaw slackening as he stepped closer to the scrying pool.
"You'rewhat?" His voice held genuine disbelief, the kind that couldn't be faked.
The surprise in his tone struck me harder than Merlin's silence. Corvin—the man who'd trained beside me, who'd taught me bladework in Annwyn's twilight forests, who'd stood at Merlin's right hand for years—hadn't known this truth either.
"Corvin." Merlin's tone carried warning.
But Corvin ignored him, his gaze locked on mine through the shimmering water. "How long have you known this?"
"Since today." The words tasted bitter. "The Riddle of Blood revealed it."
Corvin turned sharply toward Merlin, something dangerous flickering in his eyes. "You never told me. All these years, and you never—"
"It wasn't your burden to carry."
"Burden?" The word exploded from Corvin's lips. "She's yourdaughter!"
Apparently, I wasn't the only one Merlin had kept in the dark about this carefully guarded secret.
The realization sent another wave of bitter anger coursing through me. How many others had he manipulated with half-truths and strategic omissions? How many people had he moved across his chessboard without their knowledge, thinking they understood their place in his grand design?
"Perhaps it would be best to continue this conversation just the two of us, Guinevere," Merlin started, his voice carrying that familiar tone of gentle authority he used when he wanted to guide someone toward his preferred outcome.
But I emphatically shook my head. "No." I stepped closer to the scrying pool, my reflection rippling alongside his in the enchanted water. "Corvin stays. Everything I have to say, I can and will say in front of him. He's been your loyal agent for years—he deserves to hear this conversation just as much as you deserve to have it witnessed."
