I sat up, my body covered with sweat and Gwen’s juices. “I’m sorry. I meant to say Gwen.”
“You said it twice,” she said, but she was no longer talking to me. She was already off the bed and half-dressed, as if the room was on fire. I felt a twinge of sadness, but if I was being honest, also a hint of satisfaction for hurting her. Something inside me had never forgiven her for marrying Arthur. She stormed out of my bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Everything had gone according to plan, but the pit of my stomach ached with the thought that I might’ve done something that couldn’t be undone.
30
Charlotte
Even with a full afternoon of Morgana running through the field with Garix, it took her longer to fall asleep than I expected. I’d loved seeing them play together, like siblings. It was as if they’d known each other all their lives. Perhaps it was Morgana’s adrenaline from meeting Garix or her suspicion that he could understand her. She’d also given me quite a battle when I told her I needed to take Garix away for a couple of days, but eventually the exhaustion took her and she lay back on her pillow, fighting sleep. I wished I would be around the next day to put Morgana’s influence on Garix to the test. As it was, I felt rather unsettled about it. I couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than a five-year-old with control of a dragon. Even a five-year-old as sweet as Morgana could level a kingdom with a small tantrum.
“Storytime,” Morgana whispered, clapping her hands with the last of her energy. Her head was half-sunken into the pillow, her curls snaking from her head like medusa. I wondered what it might be like to have a child who wished for me to tell her stories instead of the other way around. I smiled down at her. “Go ahead.”
“The evil witch saved the day but then blood spit out of her!”
“Morgana!”
She looked up at me wide-eyed. “What?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Can’t we ever have a nice story?”
She fluttered her eyelashes at me. “Do you like the color red?”
Unfazed by her change of subject, I said, “Yes, it’s very beautiful.”
“Then blood is beautiful, which means my story is nice.”
I pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. “Alright, time for bed, before you give me nightmares.” She giggled. My gaze drifted to the window where the sun had long since gone down. Young was waiting, a thought that pushed fear into me. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust me.
I lay beside Morgana until she fell asleep, and when she finally did, I hesitated to move. My mind ran through every possible outcome of the night. I didn’t like any of them.
My stomach was fluttered with nerves by the time I turned to leave, made worse by Gabriel’s giddy response when I told him where I’d be. He’d even pressed me for answers about what I thought might happen. The truth was, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t even know if I wanted anything to happen.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t felt anything for Young as we spent the day together. Part of me knew I always would. Still, it felt like a betrayal of Minseo and I wasn’t sure why it wasn’t the other way around. Logically, Young was my husband and I owed it to him to make things work, but when I closed my eyes and placed my hands over my heart to feel it beat, it was always for Minseo. All I could truly offer Young was an open mind. I should have felt excited; we were reunited and finally connecting, but the tension and flutters I felt weren’t from excitement but from anxiety. Someone was going to be hurt tonight... and it would most likely be me.
As I kissed Morgana’s forehead one last time and waved guiltily to Gabe, I suppressed the alarm bells ringing in my mind. After all, what was wrong with me spending the night with my husband? But it was a foolish question. I knew what was wrong. My heart belonged to Minseo and every step toward Young was a step away from him. It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take, yet, a few minutes later, I stood outside of Young’s room.
31
Merlin
I paced the halls of the castle in the dead of night cycling through the emotions that hadn’t allowed me a moment of sleep since Charlotte left. Rage because she’d left me to Arthur’s wrath. A danger that I felt hovering over me, like the gavel waiting to drop. Betrayal because she didn’t tell me what she was planning. I wrung my hands. Above all sadness. Regardless of her reasons, I’d lost a sister and I was alone once more. And Garix, my sole focus for the three months we had him, was another irreplaceable gap in my life. It was almost enough to wish for my own death, to welcome Arthur’s punishment when he finally decided to implement it.
A soft sniffle sounded through the empty halls and, for a moment, my hopeful heart convinced itself it was Charlotte, come to beg my forgiveness. I followed the sound and saw a wisp of a girl turn the corner. I followed, lighting a small flame in my hand.
I turned the corner and heard a loud knock.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gwen said, shaking her locked door. I froze in place as she slid down the door, her nightgown hanging off her left shoulder. She sunk into herself and sobbed, her sharp breaths echoing in the dark hallway. Walk away, Merlin. But I didn’t. I knelt in front of the fragile and broken queen and reached to push a strand of her hair out of her face.
She lifted her face, her red, swollen eyes wide and bulging. She slapped my hand away.
“Gwen, what happened?” I asked.
“Y-you bitch,” she yelled. Her voice traveled dangerously through the arched, church-like corridor. “How long?” she said through sobs. “How long have you been sleeping with Lance behind my back?”
I couldn’t stop a laugh from splitting through my lips. “What? Never. We haven’t.”
“Don’t lie to me!” she spat, her blotchy red face ablaze with anger.
Distant footsteps sounded in the hallway, and my body tightened with fear.
Gwen didn’t seem to hear the approaching steps because she continued. “He,” she gulped, “said your name when he…” She screamed into her hands.
I yell-whispered, “Look, I’m not interested in you or Lance or your melodrama.” I grabbed her by her arm and pulled her to her feet. “And I’m not about to get executed because your delusions are trying to pull me into your little love triangle.”
Snot oozed from her nose.
I sighed. “Please don’t take offense, Your Highness, but you’re kind of disgracing our gender. You’re the queen of Camelot. Get it together.”
She wiped her face, but it remained twisted into an animalistic snarl.
A voice sounded behind me. “You ladies need to get to your chamber— Oh, Your Highness,” Galahad said in recognition. His eyes wandered to me with suspicion when he saw her in such a state.
“I-I,” my words caught. “I was just leaving.”
The queen’s rage melted into sobs and I felt my mind wonder about what had caused her such distress. It had to be a lie or mistake. But as the queen choked on her own pain, I didn’t sense the deception within her.
I took a deep breath. Why did I have to investigate? I couldn’t just let a sleepless night be only that.
Galahad lingered as if waiting for Gwen to give the order to have me executed for her distress. It wasn’t beyond her. It wasn’t even a bad plan, but ever since I’d threatened her with fire, she’d acted differently around me, as they always did when they realized the magnitude of my abilities. I’m sure she worried about what I might do, or worse, what I might reveal about her and Lance’s nighttime routine.
“I have to go,” I said guiltily, taking a few slow steps back. I turned to leave and heard Galahad question the queen to find out what I’d done to her, but the queen’s life depended on her maintaining the lie.
After I returned to my quarters and lay back in bed, I contemplated the improbability of what she said. Lance said my name during that? It made me nauseous to think about. I appreciated that Lance mostly no longer made an effort to connect with me. We’d decided to go our separate ways and could pass as indifferent acquaintances.
But Lance making that kind of mistake was weird.
A year ago I would have counted it as a sign that Lance had feelings for me, not that I believed that to be the case but because I desperately wanted it to be true. I was not so naive now, nor was I still in love with him. He’d burned me before, and when I found out what he was up to with all this Gwen drama, I’d burn him back.
32
Minseo
King Ruban’s throne shook the beaded flourishes that clacked together as he roared with laughter. Even from within the castle, I could hear the chirp of the cicadas ringing in the night as if echoing the king’s brash sentiment.
“A dragon,” he bellowed. “You’re bloody mad.” His deeply dimpled cheeks were stretched by his grin. The small strands of silver in his sleek hair and beard were the only indications he was over twenty, as his bronze skin glowed with youth and he moved around with energy and vigor. It was uncommon to come across a king so young. He was an exception, as my brother had been in Besmium, and similarly, he took the throne as a result of several tragic events.
“I assure you, Your Majesty, it’s quite true.”
The king scratched at his thick, peppered beard, his smile fading. He turned his gaze on Levario. ”And you saw this dragon as well?”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty. It was huge!”
The king stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Can you describe it in greater detail?”
Levario began, “It’s a shiny silver color and its wings are—”
“Enough,” I said, frustration welling.
Levario’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to me.
“He doesn’t believe you. He’s mocking us,” I said.
As soon as Levario’s gaze found the king, the youthful king erupted into the fit of laughter he’d been suppressing. I sighed. We need a new tactic.
“If I bring the dragon to your kingdom and you see it with your own eyes, will you join us?”
He huffed, the slick shine of his hair pulling my attention to the red jewels in his domed crown. “War with Camelot means certain death. Pay your taxes and accept that life for you and your kingdom will always be a little bit worse.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “How can you accept that? Especially now that we have an actual chance?”
“By remembering the kind of suffering that made me sign that alliance to begin with,” he said.
I dropped my head and eyed the shiny white tiles that covered his throne room.
King Ruban’s voice softened, reminding me of my father’s. “Don’t chase fairies, son. Protect the people you love.”
I balled my fist. “You think Arthur’s going to stop here? He can raise that tax whenever he wants until your people starve.”
He stood, sending a shiver through my body. “How dare you speak to me in such a way. You endanger this entire kingdom just by being here.”
A breathless guard rushed in, giving me a brief moment to compose myself.
“Your Majesty,” the guard said. “A bird just arrived from Vires. The message said that they wish to send a… a…”
“Spit it out,” the king said.
“A dragon.” The guard looked around the room, unassuredly. “It’s from the king.”
King Ruban’s gaze didn’t leave my face, a fire blazing behind his eyes. He tilted his chin up and crossed his arms over his chest. “Out of curiosity, I’ll allow you to summon the beast to Faresa, but I will not, and never will, go against our alliance with Camelot. I suggest you reconsider if you value your life and the lives of everyone in your kingdom.”
“Can I at least count on your discretion?”
He paused, considering the potential consequences before saying, “You can.”
With a nod, he dismissed me.
I hurried out of the room, gutted. I couldn’t go home without Faresa’s support. I wasn’t sure when that dragon would arrive here, but I’d need to somehow sway the king in my favor so the dragon could do its work when it arrived. Young trusted me to succeed in this mission. If he was here, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Still, you could only be so pushy with a king.
“You!” a voice called from behind me.
I turned to see Levario, red-faced and snarling. Instinctively, I held my hands out in front of me. “You made me look like a fool in front of my king,” he said.
“You know there’s a dragon. You’ve seen it. I was certain he’d take the word of his own.”
He stepped close enough to feel the heat of his breath. “Are you implying that this is somehow my fault?”
I laid a hand on his shoulder. “In a matter of days, perhaps even tomorrow, the dragon will arrive and your name will be cleared.”
He turned and walked toward the castle doors. “Are you coming?” he called back.
“Where?” I asked, looking around the white-tiled hallway.
“The tavern is the best place to check the temperature of the kingdom.”
I followed. “You’re still going to help?”
He made a grumbling sound in response.
We arrived at a tavern that was eerily close to the castle and was a beacon of light on a dark night. It was lively, packed full with local women, and mixed with guards and castle workers that seemed to be trying to catch each other’s eyes. The tavern could have been any eastern tavern, plain with mostly wooden furnishings, but what made it unique was the style of the women packed in there. They had their hair wrapped in brightly patterned silk twisted atop their heads, filling the room with a festival-like atmosphere and energy.
I followed Levario closely, like a puppy, feeling oddly out of place in the bustle of Faresa’s lively local scene.
The majority of the crowd was concentrated around one particular table. At its center, a man sat on top of it, his arms stretched out in explanation of something I couldn’t hear, but I could tell he was telling the story rather well and that his audience was enthralled.
“Two ales,” Levario said to the man behind the counter.
I craned to see the man telling the story as I heard Levario mutter, “Oh no, he’ll be paying for them both.”
I winced and dropped some silver into the man’s hand and then pushed my way through the crowd to listen. When I reached the front, I was shocked to see King Ruban of Faresa at its center.
My mind flooded with questions until I heard the gruff voice of Levario beside me. “I know what you’re thinking, but no, that’s not him.” He handed me a cup of ale.
“That’s Finn. He’s a trader by day and a bard at night. Got in trouble a while back for portraying the king in a play.”
I scanned the man, searching for differences, but the resemblance was uncanny. The only differences were the commonplace clothes, pleasant demeanor, and the incredible charisma of the bard.
“And that,” Finn said, standing on the table, “is the tale of the Dragon Princess.”
Stunned, I took a gulp of my ale while the crowd erupted into cheers. Did he mean Charlotte?
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” a man yelled from the crowd, quieting them.
Without the slightest hint of surprise or insult, Finn grinned as if he’d received a great compliment.
Struck by his kingly poise, I looked for an opening to pull him aside to ask him to retell the story.
The angry man shouted, clearly thrown by the fact he hadn’t rattled the popular performer. “You said it was a true story.”
“I assure you it’s quite true,” Finn said, taking a seat on the bar table. “You can go to Vires to confirm it or…” He suddenly turned his gaze to me, gesturing with the dramatic flair of a magician. “You can ask the Prince of Vires yourself.”
The room fell quiet as the gazes of every person in the tavern turned to me, trying to riddle out which parts of the bard’s claims were true and which were only meant to entertain.
Clearly disappointed in my lack of response, Finn egged me on. “How is Princess Charlotte doing?”
It was the opening I n
eeded. If more of the kingdom believed Charlotte and her dragon existed, the easier it would be to make my case.
“In fact,” I said, trying to mimic his tone, “Charlotte and her dragon will arrive in Faresa within the next couple days.”
“You heard it here first!” Finn shouted, sending the room into a wild torrent of cheers. Silver and bronze coins dropped in his empty lute case, though I noted no trace of a lute. He hopped off the table and walked over to me, leaning in so closely it alarmed me. “Thanks for the assist, mate,” he said, “How can I repay you? A refill on that ale, perhaps?”
Looking down at my nearly empty ale, I said, “How about you tell the story of the Dragon Princess instead?”
He raised an eyebrow and shot me a mischievous smile, “From what I hear, you know that story quite well.”
“Humor me.”
33
Charlotte
We were just going to talk. That was all this was. I gulped. I stood outside Young’s bedroom, my rattled nerves tearing through me. I willed myself to turn away and go back to Gabe’s house where I knew I couldn’t get myself into trouble, but the same curiosity that had compelled me to agree in the first place was tugging at me now.
“Young?” I said, but my voice was hardly a whisper. I reached my quivering hand to slide open the door and peeked inside. The room was covered in flower petals and flickering candles. Nope. I wasn’t going in there. I wasn’t an idiot and no woman could resist that kind of— My thoughts were cut short when I noticed Young, asleep on his bed, shirtless. The curves of his muscles glowed in the candlelight. Where did that body come from? He didn’t look like that when I married him. His face was relaxed, his arms strewn above his head as his toned chest rose and fell with each silent breath. Heat burned my cheeks as I stood frozen in the doorway between what I should do and what I wanted to do. I pressed my lips together and held my breath as I slipped inside the room and slid the door shut behind me.
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