“Hedid, Princess. That’s his way. At least he did me the honour of honesty, which was not something I could give you.” Blake’s shattered eyes darted back to Arthur, as if they hoped he might lower the sword and extend a hand instead. I glared at Arthur, but if he noticed, he didn’t react.
“Aragorn doesn’t speak for all of us,” Flynn piped up. “You’re my brother, mate. We’ve all made mistakes. Arthur’s making a stupid one right now.”
Blake slid his arm from mine and stepped toward the door. I grabbed him around the chest. Tears stung the corners of my eyes. I blinked them back. Once they started, I’d never get them to stop.
“Don’t go. Please. I can’t lose another person I love. Corbin wanted you here and I...I need you.”
Blake curled his long fingers around mine and prised himself from my grip. “You don’t need me. You never did. It’ll be easier if I’m not here now. It was never meant to be. Maybe I’ll go back to my people.” he shrugged. “I’ve heard they’re in need of a new king.”
“Do that!” Arthur growled.
Flynn threw his arms around Blake and I, mashing our bodies together and trapping Blake between us. Another heavy body fitted in behind mine, and Rowan’s familiar thyme and flour scent crawled up my nostrils.
Ryan leapt at Arthur, his hand clamping on his arm and forming an enormous fox paw. Arthur yelped in surprise, and relaxed his grip on the hilt enough that Ryan could knock it fromhis hand. The tip stuck into the wooden floor, burying the blade so it remained upright, quivering.
Arthur spun on his heel and slammed his fist into Ryan’s face, sending the artist sprawling backwards.
“Fuck,” he growled, gripping his bleeding nose.
Andrew leapt off his chair, grabbing Arthur from behind and trying to tackle him to the ground. Arthur slammed Andrew’s back into the bookshelf, sending a shower of books down on top of them. Andrew pushed Arthur’s head into the carpet and Arthur raised his fist and shot a fireball over his shoulder.
“Arthur!” I yelled. Andrew jerked his head to the side just as the fireball exploded against the bookcase.
“Mother May!” Flynn shot a jet of water at the bookcase, putting out the flames and drenching the rows of books.
Ryan leapt at them, transforming mid-air into an enormous fox. Kelly screamed. I choked back my own cry and Ryan scrambled up Arthur’s back and sank his teeth into his shoulder.
“Yeeeow!” Arthur swung around, sending another fireball across the room. Clara flattened herself against the rug it sailed over her head. Gwen reached up and hit it with a wall of water, extinguishing it in midair.
“Fun!” Smithers broke away from Aline’s grip and darted into the fray. He pressed his hand to the floorboards, which sprouted with a series of vines that curled across the floor. Arthur kicked one of the vines, and it responded by flaring up like a snake and wrapping around his ankle. Between the two guys, the fox, and the vines, Arthur’s heavy bulk crashed on the floor.
“Get off me!” he howled, struggling against his captors as he tried to reach his sword.
“Guys, please stop!” Kelly cried.
“Apologise to Blake!” Flynn yelled as he forced Arthur’s shoulder into the carpet. Blood dripped from between Ryan’s teeth.
“Flynn, it’s fine,” Blake said. “I’ll go.”
“You’re not going anywhere. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that bitch over there,” Flynn jabbed a finger at Isadora.“Shewas the one who gave Daigh everything he needed to feck up Maeve’s life. I say we?—”
“What about Corbin?” Rowan yelled.
The room fell silent.
Everyone turned to stare at Rowan, who didn’t even flinch under the scrutiny. Flynn and Andrew slid off Arthur. Corbin’s name floated in the air between us, dissipating Arthur’s cruel words and all the chaos they had wrought. It was the exact effect Corbin would have had if he was here.
Rowan stood rigid, his face bent up and lips pressed together. He screwed his eyes tight, so he didn’t even have anything to count to keep himself calm.
“What about Corbin?” he said again, louder this time, his voice deeper and harder than I’d ever heard before.
“Corbin’s gone, mate,” Arthur said, his voice suddenly gentle. Flynn and Andrew loosened their grip on him, and he crawled onto his knees, wiping a strand of dirty-blonde hair off his sweat-streaked forehead. Something in Rowan’s voice had released the tension in his shoulders, and his whole body slumped in defeat. “Trust me on that. The coroner has his body now. We’ll get it back after they’ve finished their investigation and then we’ll have a memorial?—”
“We can’t do that.” Rowan’s lips quivered. He gripped the back of the sofa, his knuckles pale.
“Why not?” Ryan said. He sounded tired.
Rowan sucked in a breath. His eyes flew open, deep pools of hope and longing. “Maeve had a dream this morning.”
