The brightness in Merlin’s face drained away. He flicked his finger and the lollipop evaporated as he leaned into his chair. “I should have left the castle long before that night, Tedros. Your father had stopped viewing me as his friend and more as an old fool, there only to nag and point fingers and hold him back. Indeed, he’d come to my cave only days before demanding a spell to spy on Guinevere, but I’d held firm that matters of the heart were too delicate for magic. The young Arthur would have trusted my advice and confronted her, even if it wounded his pride or led to a truth he wasn’t ready to accept. But the old Arthur, green-eyed and arrogant, stole a spell recipe from my cave like a vengeful child, changing himself from a boy to a girl in order to trap his own wife. I had to leave Camelot. Not just to protect myself, but to protect your father most of all. Had the spell not been there for him to take, perhaps Arthur and I may have found a different ending. Though that in itself may be wishful thinking. As he told me many times before that day in anger, ‘I don’t need you anymore.’”

Tedros rubbed his eyes, scarlet fading from his cheeks. “And what about me? What if I needed you?”

“I couldn’t make the same mistakes with you as I’d made with your father,” said Merlin. “I’d sheltered him from his own weaknesses, and because of it, those weaknesses won. I had to let you write your own story, Tedros . . . to let you grow up on your own, until the day when you truly needed me to survive. If I’d tried to say goodbye, you would have followed me into the Woods. Still, you’ll never know how hard it was to leave you. As much as you may have needed me, I needed you far more.” The wizard’s voice wavered slightly. “I took solace in the fact that I was never truly gone, watching you as an eagle watches from the sky, following every twist and turn of your story. Cringing perhaps, at some of your mistakes, fatheaded as they were. And yet knowing that all these mistakes were yours, beautifully yours, and you came out the better for it . . . the boy I left behind well on his way to becoming an extraordinary man and an extraordinary king.” Merlin smiled. “If only from your choice of princess alone.”

Tedros and Agatha looked at each other and turned away, blushing, as if unsure whether they were still in a fight.

“Though you will certainly have interesting children,” Merlin murmured, studying them.

Agatha’s buttocks clenched.

Tedros yawned and balled his knees to his chest. “Well, after everything you’ve put me through, the least you can do is make me one, M,” he grumbled, peeking at Merlin. “Double marshmallow and candy cream as usual, please.”

Merlin cracked a smile. “What’d I tell you? The second I show up they turn back into little boys,” he sighed. Out of his starry cone hat he pulled a tall stone mug of steaming chocolate with two giant fluffy marshmallows and a mountain of rainbow-sprinkled whipped cream and slid it into the prince’s hand.