But the boy, Selwyn, is smart. When he rights himself, he does not do as some opponents would, and try the same attack—or similar—again. He gives up on his first strategy, and searches for another. His eyes dart across her positioning, the distribution of her weight, the sword in her hand, and all the while, he pulls a ball of aether into his palm to form a long, shining staff, hard and dense as any sword. “Let her go, Arthur.”

We circle each other. I chuckle again. “I have only just arrived, boy. Don’t be rude.”

“I will fight you.”

At that, I throw my head back in a laugh. “Do not lie to your elders. You would never—could never—harm this body. You know it. I know it.”

His resolve flickers, as does his staff. “I won’t let you manipulate her again.”

“Again?” I say, brandishing my sword. “I have been manipulating her for months. Playing on her desire to wield my abilities—an impossible feat with an overdraw of ambient aether that no one could ever hope to control.”

Selwyn’s scowl deepens. “You were doing that to her. Letting her burn herself…” His eyes flash. “So she would be forced to summon you for aid, bleed for you? Live your memories?”

“Indeed.”

“Why?”

He is stalling for time. Looking for a way to attack his beloved without permanently injuring her.

I grow tired.

“That would be telling, descendant of Merlin,” I say, and lunge toward him. He follows the feint. I draw back and strike the temple behind his eye with a closed fist—and all of Briana’s strength.

The crack against bone echoes in the early morning air.

He crumples into a heap. Goes still.

I never intend to allow Briana to regain control of herself, of course, but if she did, and she found her Merlin dead, she would be extremely distraught.

Extremely.

I step over his body and continue toward the still-running vehicle.

I kick the most alive-looking of the Mageguard—a young woman. Olsen, I believe. She stirs, and I kick again. “Get up. Take me to the Regents.”

Olsen glares up at me. “Matthews,” she snarls.

“Not anymore.” I point to the sleek black beast. “Take me to the Regents.” She blinks as though she cannot believe her eyes. “Fy duw,” I mutter. How useless.

A whistle of movement. A black aether spear slams down in the earth an inch from Briana’s foot, still vibrating from its journey and the strength of its thrower. It swallows light in on itself, a weapon meant to bring night and death with it.

The sunlight above and around me dims. The air grows cooler. The world, darker.

Ah.

I whip around to see the spear’s caster. “I thought I killed you, old friend.”

The voice cracks from long disuse.

“Only for a time.”

55