The knights fled toward the main cabin, and Jordan and Kay took up residence in the cockpit. Merlin stood at the door, heart strained to the breaking point. Had Ari gotten captured by Mercer? Would Mercer see more value in her as a prisoner—or as a dead hero they could wave around to destroy everyone’s mounting hope?
“No one is leaving this frozen wart of a planet until we get my sister back,” Kay said, knocking Jordan away from the controls just as another heat ray hit them hard. Captain Mom appeared beside Merlin at the cockpit—she must have been securing Mom for the journey.
“Ari?” she asked, looking around at the crew.
Kay looked back and shook his head once. He hesitated for a second too long, and another blast hit them.
“HEAT-SKIN COMPROMISED,” Error said in a stilted voice.
Jordan grabbed the controls from Kay—and he didn’t fight, only sat back with a thud. The ship soared as blast after blast hit them, making it impossible to turn back.
Merlin couldn’t stop any of it. Merlin couldn’t twist this moment into something better. Without magic, or hope, the only thing left to do was lie to himself. Ari had come up with some kind of scheme while the rest of them packed into the ship. She was promising, but still too impulsive for an Arthur.
Unacceptable, Merlin told himself as he spun on his feet. When he found her, he’d give her a good talking-to about keeping close to her knights and not striking out on her own so much. Error burned through the atmosphere, rattling so hard that Merlin thought his bones might liquefy.
“We’ll find her,” he said to anyone who was willing to listen. Sickness and exhaustion swelled to take up every inch of his body. “We’ll find Ari. I promise. I always find my Arthur.”
But that was the biggest lie of them all.
And with that, he fainted into Captain Mom’s strong arms.
When Merlin woke up, the confusion of his body told him that he’d been out for days. He no longer felt horribly sick—only a bit stiff. He was settled into one of the canvas hammocks in the bunk room, his back permanently curled.
He tipped himself out of the fabric and onto the floor, where he sat for a few minutes, staring at his faded plague sores.
When he heard a voice at the end of the ship, he ran toward it.
“Ari Helix, also known as Ara Azar, a Ketchan criminal, has been found dead in the Avelo solar system,” said a slightly delighted, disembodied voice.
Ari’s knights—minus Gwen—were sitting at the round table in center of the ship, their eyes pinned to their watches, which were streaming video of Ari. Fighting on Troy. Winning the tournament on Lionel. Kissing the queen.
All while the Administrator announced, over and over again, that she was gone.
“No,” Merlin said. “No, no, no, no.”
“Does saying that five times bring her back?” Lam asked. “Because anything else is just useless.”
“She was found dead?” Merlin asked as the video looped and started over, tiny Aris everywhere. She looked so real, so furiously alive.
“It’s from the tyrannical textbook,” Val said, anger spilling over as he pressed his watch to stop the news stream. “They don’t want to brag openly about killing her. It might rally more people to Ari’s cause. They made it sound like she tripped and fell on her own heroic ideals. Nobody’s fault. Nothing to see here. Move along.”
“They’re lying!” Merlin said, hopping from foot to foot like he was standing on hornets. “They want people to believe she’s dead, to cut off the universe’s hope at the knees…”
Val shook his head slightly, as everyone else’s eyes magnetized to Merlin.
“You missed a lot while you were asleep, old man,” Lam said, getting heavily to their feet, their knee bound up tight. Despite their obvious pain, they put an arm around Merlin and guided him toward the cargo area where Kay was staring at a long box, gray-faced. “Mercer delivered her body this morning,” Lam said. “Free two-day shipping on all deceased loved ones,” they added, with a hard crust to their mocking tone.
Ari was laid out in a person-sized shipping crate, the brittle plastic version of a coffin. There were no wounds that Merlin could see—but she was still in a way that only meant death. Had Mercer cornered her and then waited for her to freeze? Had she fallen into one of Urite’s icy chasms? There were no traces, no wounds to tell the story. Ari’s lips were bleached, so far from their living shade Merlin couldn’t imagine them back to the right color.
“You got to rest,” Kay said, voice cracking. “Now fix her.”
“I can’t,” Merlin croaked. “Resurrection is a nasty, heartless business. My magic couldn’t reanimate her for more than a few minutes, and she would be a zombie, not… not your sister.”
Not my friend.
Merlin’s palms leaked sweat and his brain seethed as he tried to find a loophole. Maybe this wasn’t Ari at all—maybe some horrible magic was involved. But Morgana’s power was in the mind, and Nin had been out of the cycle for so long and never bothered to interfere like this before. Merlin was the only person who might have been able to craft a fake Ari, but she would have faded as soon as he stopped holding the illusion in place.
There was only one explanation left.
Ari was dead, and this cycle was done. Failed. Like all the others.
Merlin picked a point on the ship to stare at, a rivet, so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at Ari’s body. At his failure. At the impossible future. He narrowed the moment down until he could deal with it again. He whittled and shaved until it was only a single rivet in a single seam in Error’s belly.
Val cleared his throat. “Lam, do you want to say…?”
“You’re better at it,” Lam said.
“You’re older,” Val argued.
They had never sounded more like siblings. Merlin snuck a glance and found their shoulders set in hard lines, their broad faces taking on the dim light of the cabin, their dark-brown skin glowing with overtones of gold.
“Ari Helix,” Lam said, “may your body rest softly where it lies. May your spirit follow the path of the nearest moon to a softer place. May there be nothing but ease for you now, and always.”
“Ara Azar,” Val corrected quietly. “That was her Ketchan name. If you don’t say it right, she won’t go where she needs to be.”
Ara Azar. It flowed like a swift bend in a river. It shone like a coin in the sun.
It belonged to her.
And so did they.
Captain Mom drifted to the cargo area, drawn by the sound of Lam and Val’s prayer. At the sight of Ari’s body, she hunkered against the doorjamb and covered her face. Kay moved beside her, one arm on her back. Jordan put both hands on the pommel of her sword, head low. Without anyone saying a word, it became a vigil, with starlight streaming through the portholes instead of candles.
Merlin felt slightly out of place. Everyone else here was family—Lam and Val, the moms and Kay. Gwen and Jordan weren’t strictly related, but their closeness spoke of a lifetime spent together.
He was the only one left alone now that Ari was gone.
Jordan drew her sword. It was thinner than the broadsword she’d fought with on Lionel, the edges so sharp they seemed to punish the air for being in her way. “Ari was a warrior. I honor her death by helping the people she fought to protect. Her mission becomes mine.”
Merlin couldn’t help thinking of the other things that should be Ari’s that might soon be Jordan’s. With Arthur out of the way, Lancelot would no doubt step in and comfort the grieving Gweneviere.
As if she’d heard Merlin thinking about her, Gwen walked silently in from the main cabin, wearing the T-shirt Ari had lent her on their wedding night. Her face was red and creased where she’d been pressing it too hard into a pillow, trying to bury her grief, no doubt.
She walked to Ari’s side and put a hand on the clear surface of the coffin, as if it might convince Ari’s eyes to open. “You said you’d come right back,” she said. “You didn’t. You
lied.” Gwen balled herself up, stiffened her body, and closed her eyes, as if part of her was joining Ari, dying in the cargo hold.
Merlin didn’t know what to do.
He touched the rivet.
It was cold. It was lifeless. It was a circle. Merlin started tracing it, but his finger was finished almost as soon as it began, and then the journey started all over again.
The portal to the crystal cave shone black and oily, like tea steeped so long it had grown evil.
Merlin had to go back to the beginning. He would sleep, and wait for the next Arthur to wake him up. He just hoped he wouldn’t grow too young in the meantime.
He’d closed the door to the bathroom to conjure the portal. All he had to do was take a step. But his dark reflection stopped him—dead-eyed, sickly, much too thin, still wearing a prison uniform.
Mercer had done this to him, and somehow he was still luckier than so many people they had hurt. Lian, still frozen like stone to keep her from dying too fast. Hex, dead. Ari… dead. So many people with lost families, splintered love. Merlin had a nice warm cave he could run to, but that wouldn’t stop Mercer from killing the rest of Ari’s knights. Whether they did it quickly or slowly, they would murder each of them while Merlin slept. Not being able to see it didn’t stop it from happening.
Morgana was right on that count, if nothing else.
He upset the portal with a fingertip, turning it back into the plain bathroom mirror. Then he threw open the door and called through the ship. “Val? Val?”
He came quickly—no doubt beckoned by the nervous tremble in Merlin’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
Merlin drew a shaky breath. He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to leaving. “I need help. These clothes…”
“You’re right.” Val fingered the hem of Merlin’s prison shirt. “This is a problem.”
In one sleek motion Val lifted the shirt and tossed it to the floor. Then Val pulled his own shirt up, revealing a tank top that showed every line of his body as clear as the boundaries on a map. Merlin’s body went warm and helpless. This wasn’t why he’d called Val in, and yet, it was.
Val ran his fingers through Merlin’s tangled hair, tugging gently at his knots. “You can’t go anywhere like this. This look is entirely too ‘I’ve escaped from prison to murder everyone.’”
“They took my robes,” Merlin said, not wanting to admit how much it bothered him.
“I liked your stars and moons,” Val said softly, “but maybe it’s for the best. Think of it as a complete Merlin makeover.”
“You mean like in those teen movies from that hideous decade with the hairspray?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Val said, his pressed lips teasing and kind, two things Merlin had always assumed didn’t go together but with Val were interlocking pieces.
Val slid Merlin’s glasses off his face and set them on the edge of the sink. The lines of the room went swimmy.
“I need those,” Merlin said.
“Don’t worry,” Val said. “I like these old-fashioned frames. The darkness brings out the bright in your eyes.” Merlin let out a spatter of surprised, nervous blinks. “But I need them off to work.” Val slid a first-aid kit out from the cupboard and clicked the box open, picking out a small pair of scissors. He went back to running his fingers through Merlin’s hair, wetting it with water from the sink, pulling it smooth, snipping at the ends.
“It feels like you’ve done this before,” Merlin said.
“Oh, I’ve done everything,” Val said, with that sudden spark of flirtation that made Merlin desperate to know what the fire would feel like. “Before I was Gwen’s chief adviser, I used to do this for newcomers to Lionel. People go there to change their lives, and that usually means changing their looks.”
“Why did you leave Pluto?” Merlin asked, surprised that the question still mattered. Surprised that anything still mattered, with Ari dead.
“I wanted to make a difference in this ridiculous universe.” Val paused to brush hair from the tops of Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin stiffened at the soft work of Val’s fingers. “Other than Ketch behind its barrier, Lionel is the only official Mercer holdout. There are underground movements on other planets, resistance efforts. Lam wanted me to stay on Pluto and help there. My parents knew I was angling to be a diplomat, and they basically said ‘anywhere but Lionel.’ But that planet was calling my name.” The smile dropped out of Val’s voice. “We’re heading back to Lionel now, and Mercer isn’t going to play nice, but even if I lose the place I loved so much, I’ll have to go on living.” He slowed his work, the slice of the scissors falling quiet. “Just like you have to.”
This was all wrong. Val was supposed to hate him. “I let Ari die. I lost her, back on Urite. I failed her, just like Morgana said I would.”
Val laughed. He laughed at one of Merlin’s dearest worries. “Oh, that self-punishing bit. I used to do that, too. How’s it working out for you?”
Val shook his head as he snipped. And snipped some more. Merlin started to worry about what he’d look like when this was all over. He spun Merlin to face him, and they were standing close enough that Val’s face was beautifully clear, the rest of the room melting into softness behind him. “Do you want some eyeliner?”
“Do I… what?” Merlin tried to answer. Val’s face was right there, with its smooth planes and tempting smile lines. But Ari was dead, and it wasn’t the right time. There was no right time for Merlin. It was a concept that didn’t exist, like a negative square number.
“Not really an eyeliner boy,” Val said, misreading Merlin’s silence. “But you have to let me shave this.” He ran a hand down Merlin’s jaw, and Merlin’s lips parted, before he realized what Val meant to do.
“No,” Merlin said. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s so scruffy!” Val said, rubbing the line of prickly hair.
“These are the last remnants of what used to be a glorious beard,” Merlin argued. “People spoke of it for centuries! It was even a curse! Merlin’s beard!”
But what he really meant was that it was the last thread holding him together. The last sign that Merlin might be able to fix things before it was too late.
Or too early, in his case.
“Fine,” Val said, in a way that made Merlin imagine that Val would try to convince him again later. “But here… just let me…” He smoothed Merlin’s eyebrows and tucked his hair behind his ears. Merlin ducked his head forward just a bit.
And then they were perfectly close. So close that it would be easier to kiss than not kiss.
Merlin hummed a little. It was the only way to stop himself from doing… everything else. He shook his hands, and magic rained from his fingers in faint lines of color, wrapping them together in indigo and rose and buttercup and grass-green, all of the beauty that would have gone into a kiss flowing into the air, filling it.
“How did you know I needed something pretty?” Val asked.
“I thought you were making me pretty,” Merlin said.
Val smirked briefly, then tilted his neck back to watch. Wonder and relief and happiness overtook his face, and Merlin had done that. He’d made something good happen, for once. Val smiled, and Merlin had to stop his fingers from slipping over the soft skin of Val’s neck.
Ari was still in that plastic coffin. Ari was still dead.
Val pulled his shirt back on and reached into a tiny drawer, procuring a T-shirt and pair of old, perfectly worn-in jeans. Fashion came and went, but Merlin had always believed that jeans—like cockroaches—would survive into any possible future.
“Change,” Val said, half slipping out of the bathroom, before adding, “Merlin, don’t forget to look at yourself.” He pointed to the mirror and shut the door.
Merlin pulled on the new clothes. He found his glasses, settling them back in place. The haze of color faded, and Merlin saw himself clearly for the first time in ages. He didn’t look like a great or fearsome magician, but he wasn’t horri
fied by what he saw, either. He had an artful snarl of reddish hair, brown eyes glinting in frames of black and silver, pale skin that clung to a skinny body.
The Merlin who abandoned friends and enemies for the safety of the crystal cave was gone.
They dropped Ari’s mothers off at the nearest medical station that would take a plague victim without too many questions. After Merlin melted Lian from her fake-death state, Ari and Kay’s moms were gone, and silence reigned over the small, cracked kingdom of Error.
It lasted until they reached Lionel’s solar system.
“I’ve been away too long,” Gwen said, worrying through a dozen different emergency scenarios. “We’ll be facing lack of water. Dehydration. Riots, possibly.” Now that she’d taken off the overlarge T-shirt and put on her queen’s garb, she didn’t say a word about Ari. She was as focused on her planet as Merlin had been on that metal rivet.
The only thing that stopped her recitation of possible horrors was the sight of Kay coming in from the cockpit. “We’re about to hit Lionel. Where do you want me to put down?”
Gwen shook her head in frowning wonderment. “You’re… here. I assumed you left with your parents.”
“I thought you might need help,” Kay said, crossing the twin logs of his arms.
Jordan stood, getting squarely between Kay and her queen. “All you’ve ever cared about is your own life and your kin.”
Kay shrugged. “Yeah, well, Ari married Gwen. So that makes us…”
“What?” Gwen asked, sidestepping Jordan. “That makes us what?”
“People who don’t leave each other headed toward a fucking mess,” Kay said, pointing out the window. The low orbit of Lionel was filled with ships, every one of them Mercer Black—a shade that demanded all the light and gave nothing back.
Mercer wasn’t just here to make Gwen’s life difficult. They were going to punish an entire planet.
“Message came through,” Lamarack yelled from the cockpit. “A diplomatic detachment from Troy landed about ten hours ago and said Mercer is repossessing Lionel because the queen is in debt for a criminal charge against her wife.”
Once & Future Page 17