I did not have an answer for them, anyway.
Arran wanted to go after the Sacred Trinity. I knew it was a fantasy.
We were co-rulers. We had to reach some sort of accord. But it was not going to happen today. Waiting another day would not change the reality. But I had felt the pain in Arran as he made that vow to me. I could give him a day to come to terms with the loss of that fickle hope that Gwen and Cyara had offered.
I wished I could give him more.
We were supposed to have a thousand years.
No. I would not flinch from my fate now.
I did not pull away when Arran tucked me in at his side.
We found what remained of our war council drinking hot tea in Sylva’s house. I opened a portal rift with half a thought. The growing power inside of me might have scared me once. But now, I allowed myself to revel in it. If mere weeks or months remained to me, then I deserved to enjoy them in any way I could.
I brought us to the edge of the lake. I’d have preferred to go directly to our quarters, but the residents of Eilean Gayl, old and new, needed to see us. High King and Queen of Annwyn. United, strong, competent, with our loyal Knights arrayed around us.
But as the terrestrial mountains took shape around us, so did something else. The turrets of Eilean Gayl were crowded; so was the bridge. A disturbance at the far end of the lake drew all eyes.
A massive orb made of water moved steadily across the lake. As it approached the castle, what appeared to be shimmers were revealed to be undulating ripples of water, moving in a steady motion to create the sphere.
I was dimly aware of Barkke drifting closer, taking up a place at Arran’s side.
“What is that?” he asked aloud, echoing the thoughts in a thousand fae heads.
I knew. I’d seen theatrics like this before; twice, in point of fact.
“It’s Merlin.”
18
VEYKA
Arran, Barkke, and Elora tied her to a chair.
She offered no resistance, allowing them to bind her hands, feet, and neck. She could not even turn her head without the rope burning into her pale gold skin.
And she still had the nerve to look calm and composed. Her perfect black hair fell straight, nearly to her waist, not a tangle in sight. Her slanted dark brown eyes were unmarred by bruises or wrinkles. I wondered what the cost of her powerful water magic was; clearly it was not physical. Not like the exhaustion that Lyrena’s fire brought or the ache in Cyara’s wrists.
Merlin stared at me with clear, unruffled grace.
Maybe her cost was madness. She’d have to be insane to stare at me without fear.
Either way, I’d make sure her death was slow and painful.
Barkke and Elora retreated to the other side of the door. Eilean Gayl did not have proper dungeons, so we’d put her high in a tower room. One window, which Arran covered with vines a foot thick, and one door, guarded by both elemental and terrestrial warriors.
I drew a dagger from my waist.
“How difficult would you like to make this, Merlin?” I asked, lifting my blade to the torchlight.
“I do not intend to make it difficult at all, Majesty. You want to know about the Sacred Trinity.”
Arran stilled beside me. The head of his axe was still in his hand. He always drew it in the same motion. He hooked his thumb and forefinger around where the head met the shaft, and slid it up with one quick flick of his wrist until he had the shaft perfectly positioned in his grasp.
But his fingers were still curved around the metal head.
Merlin divided her attention between us, nodding with what we were supposed to see as respect.
