“I know you stole the enchantment off Arthur’s scabbard,” Emry accused. “You could have killed him.”

Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “You mean he could have gotten himself killed. Which is no less than he deserved, with that foolish display of arrogance. He gained the ability to beat death, and he used it to cheat at a sword-fighting contest!”

“That wasn’t his idea!” Emry protested. “King Uther—”

Morgana flicked her wrist, and Emry fell to her knees. An invisible hand tightened around her neck, choking her. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she gasped for air. She stared hatefully at Morgana, waiting for it to end.

“Don’t ever mention that man’s name in my presence,” Morgana warned, removing the spell as casually as if she were swatting away a fly.

Emry coughed, catching her breath, and then climbed unsteadily to her feet. “Understood,” she rasped.

Morgana regarded her coolly. “I’ll admit, it was clever of you to masquerade as your brother.” Her lips pressed into a grim smile. “Why is it that men are so threatened by women with power, do you think? Even your father was the same way.”

Emry said nothing, only waited and glared.

“No matter how many times you prove yourself, they will always see you as a witch—or worse, a sorceress.” Morgana’s mouth twitched. “But I didn’t bring you here to lament the ways of men.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Emry asked.

Morgana grinned.

“That scar on your palm,” she said. “I’ve only seen its like once before. After your father opened a door to Anwen.”

Emry’s heart pounded in alarm. Of course Morgana had recognized the mark, just as Master Ambrosius had. No wonder Morgana had asked after her, tried to track her down, and summoned her here.

“I want you to show me how you did it.” Morgana’s eyes were bright and eager, and Emry could feel the enormity of the woman’s obsession.

“Why on earth would I help you?” Emry retorted. “You killed my father.”

“Killed him?” Morgana scoffed. “Is that what Nimue told you? Why would I kill the one person who could show me how to access magic without limits?”

Emry frowned, confused.

“It was an experiment gone wrong,” Morgana explained. “Your father got stuck beyond the stones. He’s trapped, not dead.”

Not dead. For the second time that night, Emry’s chest filled with hope. The way her father had disappeared without a trace, without saying goodbye. How she had always felt he wasn’t truly gone.

The Lady of the Lake hadn’t said Merlin was dead. Not in so many words. Emry had just assumed. She closed her eyes, remembering exactly what the Lady had said.

The sorceress Morgana took his life.

Emry knew the Lady spoke in riddles, but it had never occurred to her that the Lady would do so about her father’s death. Technically, Emry had taken her brother’s life when she’d borrowed his place at the castle. Taken it, and returned it to him. Perhaps Morgana could do the same.