“And even if I did faint, you fainted twice,” Tedros snapped, wiping his runny nose with his sleeve.

“Nice to see the future of Camelot is in mature hands,” said Agatha, jamming another pillow under his head.

“He was even more emotional as a child. Imagine that!” Merlin piped, smacking the dust out of his robes before he plunked down in a rocking chair, doffed his hat, and pulled a cherry lollipop out of it like a carnival magician. “Of his future princess, his father would say, ‘Look for the girl who is truly Good.’” Merlin sucked loudly on the lollipop. “I, on the other hand, said, ‘Look for the girl who will give you a good kick in the rump.’”

Tedros glowered, red-eyed. “You think this is funny?”

Merlin burped and tugged at his moustache. “Tedros, I know I have a lot to explain—”

“No. No explaining. There’s nothing to explain!” Tedros waved him off. “Mother runs off with Father’s best friend when I’m nine. Runs off with Lancelot, of all people—Lancelot, the knight I idolized, who carried me on his back and gave me my first sword and acted like he was my friend too. She didn’t even say goodbye, Merlin! As if Dad and I were strangers, as if we were nothing. But no matter how much I cried or cursed her, no matter how many times I watched Dad lock himself in his chamber, at least we still had you. You kept our family together when it was falling apart.” Tedros welled up again. “And then a week later, you disappear in the middle of the night, just like she did. Not a word to my father after guiding him his whole life. Not a word to me, who you took questing in the Woods like I was your own. Father said you left because your life was in danger—said you’d created a spell that messed with boys and girls and could bring down whole kingdoms; that word of the spell had spread and armies were coming for you. . . . But the Merlin I knew was stronger than any army, bigger than any danger. The Merlin I knew would have put my dad before his own life.”

Tedros heaved a breath. “I was ten years old and had to watch my father die, as weak as he was once strong. I kept telling myself you’d come back. Merlin couldn’t abandon me like this: an orphan in a giant castle, with no mother, no father, no one to care about me. But years went by and I told myself you were dead. You had to be. So I mourned you like I did Father, promising to make you proud for the rest of my life, wherever in heaven you were.” Tedros let out a sob, burying his face in a pillow. “And now you show up . . . alive?”

Agatha gazed at Tedros, her own eyes misting. She wanted to touch him, but he was too raw. Slowly, she looked up at Merlin, seeing a selfish old villain now instead of a hero.