Looking at him brings the taste of vomit to my mouth, but somehow I lift my gaze.

‘My name is Ivy.’

‘Ah yes, poor little Ivy, all alone in the world. No parents to love her, no home to call her own. She found her mother and then lost her.’

I clench my fists. ‘Don’t you dare hurt –’

He raises his sceptre and my words cleave in two and fall back down my throat. My eyes water as unseen fingers tighten around my neck and pressure builds in my head.

Morgan cries out. ‘Merlin, that’s enough. Leave her –’

He lifts his hand without turning around and she drops to the ground, her body convulsing. At the same time, the other witches rise up and hang above the walkway, their wings folded by their sides as if frozen into place, their faces white with fear.

Merlin sees my horrified expression and laughs. ‘Return to Avalon as my queen and you may have your mother back. Or stay here with your sisters and your mother will die.’

Tears fill my eyes. How can I choose between them? I can’t.

He strokes my hair and whispers, ‘I told you I would have you, and I will.’

I recoil, realising that he wants Moronoe not out of love or lust, but because of some twisted need to possess her. He could simply force me to go with him, but he wants to make it harder for me. He wants the decision to be mine, to punish me for escaping him – for dying.

Rage surges through my body and into my hands and I act without thinking. I elbow him in the throat then throw out my arms and hurl a bolt of black energy that pushes him back. Taken by surprise, he lowers his sceptre and my sisters are released from his hold.

Merlin groans. I hope he’s injured, but then I realise I’ve made a terrible mistake. He’s drawing the blackness into himself, absorbing my hate and rage and using it to grow stronger.

28

He climbs onto the metal platform then swings his sceptre, and I shield my face as the optic shatters, glass flying everywhere. When I look again the room is dark and the lens has gone, replaced by a swirling red whirlpool. Intense heat radiates from it, the smell of sulphur and ash so strong it stings my nostrils and burns the back of my throat. The dark outline of a figure stands over us: not a man but a hulking beast.