“Perhaps he believeshe candecipher something from your blood,” Merlin cut in smoothly, but his voice was still too calm. "But he cannot. Kay's mode of magic does not work accordingly." He paused. "There is nothing to worry about."
"Merlin," Corvin started, doubt fueling the word.
“Is there someone in Camelot who could read my blood?” I persisted.
“Not without advanced alchemy magic that very few possess, andnonein Camelot possess,” Merlin replied, unwavering.
"But you could do it?" I asked him.
"I could, yes."
"Then couldn't it follow that Mordred could too?" Corvin asked. "Since he was your pupil?"
Merlin paused for a moment, then shook his head. "Mordred lacks this capability, as do the others, and the relationship between Kay and Mordred is a distrustful one. Kay would never feel comfortable enough to approach Mordred with such a request, and Mordred would never associate with Kay. No one in Camelot cares for Kay. They never have, and they never will.”
"That is true," Corvin replied, but there was something in his expression that was still concerned.
"So... you don't believe I have any reason to be concerned? You believe I'm safe to remain here—to stay the course?"
“Precisely," Merlin answered. "You're meant to worry more about your mission and less about the shadows cast by others’ suspicions,” he instructed gently. "Remember who you are."
It sounded good in theory, but I still wasn't fully convinced. It just didn't make sense to me that Kay would go to such lengths to obtain my blood if he had no intention of doing anything with it. And yet, Merlin knew Camelot because he'd spent so much time here. And that meant he knew Kay.
"Is everything else going well?" Merlin asked.
I nodded dumbly, my thoughts still wholly encompassed by this newest disaster. The weight of Kay's suspicions pressed against my chest, making it difficult to draw a full breath. Every reassurance Merlin had offered felt fragile against the gnawing certainty that something was fundamentally wrong with this situation—that Kay's machinations ran deeper than either of us understood.
Merlin's image began to dim and waver at the edges, the magical connection requiring too much energy to maintain across the vast distance between Camelot and Annwyn. The familiar blue-white glow that had filled the water started to fade, and within moments, his presence dissolved entirely, leaving only my own reflection staring back at me with wide, troubled eyes. The sudden absence of his and Corvin's presence made the chamber feel heavy in its quiet.
I was alone once more in this gilded cage of stone and secrets, with only the weight of my deception for company. The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of the castle settling into evening—the clank of armor from guards making their rounds, the muffled conversations of servants in the corridors below, the whisper of wind through the arrow slits.
"Hoot."
And the owl.
I turned around to face him, where he was perched on the windowsill. He'd been watching the entire exchange with those bright, intelligent eyes, tilting his head in that particular way birds do when they're trying to understand something beyond their comprehension. He remained perfectly still, an unjudging witness to my mounting panic and the secrets that threatened to crush me beneath their weight.
“Is he correct?” I asked softly, throwing the words into the quiet space, seeking conviction.
"Hoot. Hoot."
I crossed the room, sitting beside the owl, close enough that I felt our camaraderie but far enough that my nearness wouldn't concern him.
All the while, I couldn't help but feel like there was more to this situation than Merlin knew.
-ARTHUR-
I glanced down at her, this beauty who had pulled the sword from the stone.
And though I recognized her as my enemy, I couldn't keep my gaze from traveling deliberately past her face to linger on her breasts.
"I do not want to remain here," she whispered, her wide eyes begging me to release her.
"And yet, your nipples are hard little peaks that are just begging for me to touch them." My voice held no mockery, only raw hunger that echoed the feelings within me.
She appeared bashful, dropping her face so I wouldn't see the blush stealing over her cheeks.
"Aren't they?" I demanded.
