1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

ARTHUR

I burst through the tavern door, Merlin hot on my heels, curses and clattering objects following us like a pack of hungry wolves. The first heavy drops of rain splattered against the cobblestones.

“Arthur, wait!” Merlin shouted, his voice dripping with that infuriating grin I could practically hear even as we sprinted into the night.

I glanced back, a smirk creeping onto my face. “Catch up, wizard boy!”

We barreled down the narrow alley, splashing through muddy puddles as the storm unleashed its fury above us. Thunder rumbled, low and all too threatening, as if the heavens were debating whether to swallow us whole.

We finally slowed, rain soaking us to the bone, my hair plastered to my forehead as I bent over, panting with my hands braced on my knees. Maybe three mugs of ale before running for my life wasn’t such a great idea after all.

“Do you think we lost him?” Merlin asked, pushing his drenched hair from his eyes. His blue irises were glowing slightly, making me glad we’d gotten out of the tavern in time.

“Not if we stop here,” I replied, gulping in the cool, damp air. I glanced up, the moon conspicuously absent, like it knew better than to show its face tonight. The rain fell harder now. “Great. Now we’ll need to find somewhere dry to wait out this monsoon. Home is definitely not an option.”

Merlin tilted his head back, catching raindrops on his tongue like a child. “Why can’t it rain ale instead? Now that would make this night worthwhile.”

I snorted and shoved him playfully. “With our luck, it’d be horse piss instead of ale. Come on, there has to be somewhere we can stay for the night.”

We jogged through the downpour until the tavern’s warm glow faded into the murky shadows behind us. The road narrowed as the village thinned out, giving way to endless crop fields. Lightning forked across the sky, and I flinched, my heart racing; storms and I had an unspoken agreement to dislike one another.

As if the universe finally decided to throw us a bone, the outline of a ramshackle barn appeared, looming from the rain-soaked darkness. Its sagging roof and crooked door hung on rusted hinges, but it offered the promise of shelter from the rain, and that’s all I needed.

"Well, this looks cozy," Merlin drawled as we approached.

I just grunted in response and shouldered open the door. The interior was dim, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning through the cracks in the walls. It smelled of rotting hay and damp earth. Home sweet home.

Merlin conjured a ball of druidlight and sent it hovering near the ceiling. I raised an eyebrow at him. He just shrugged. "What? No one's around to see."

"You're going to get caught one of these days, and I won’t always be there to get you out of it."

I knew Merlin was too clever to let that happen, but it was fun to tease him. He'd been keeping his magic a secret for years, ever since we were scrawny orphans scraping by on the streets.

He just grinned at me. "I'll be careful, Wart. Promise."

The childhood nickname made me roll my eyes, even as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "You better be. I don't fancy having to break you out of the palace dungeons."

"I'd just magic myself out." Merlin wiggled his fingers, and the druidlight danced above us. "Or Gaius would just sweet talk the king into sparing my life."

"Cocky bastard."

"You love it."

Our gazes locked, and a familiar tug tightened in my chest—the kind I’d grown adept at ignoring whenever Merlin was near. I cleared my throat and turned my attention to the crumbling barn, forcing myself to focus on anything but the warmth blooming between us.

“Let’s get a fire going,” I suggested, glancing at the wall that shook with the wind. “We should wait it out and sleep off this damn ale.”

Merlin nodded, already kneeling to gather some dry hay into a makeshift pile. With a flick of his wrist, the hay ignited in a vibrant blaze. The heat washed over me, a welcome relief against my rain-soaked skin. He expertly wove his magic, conjuring a dome of golden light that shielded the fire, letting only the warmth escape while dampening the smoke.

It was reckless to use magic so openly, even within the barn’s sturdy walls. You could never be too careful—a lesson Merlin might never learn. King Uther had banned the use of magic ever since his daughter had attempted and failed to seize the throne with dark sorcery. Merlin was, quite literally, playing with fire.

I’d known about Merlin’s magic the first time we’d met—the night a raging inferno swept through our village. He’d found me screaming and covered in soot, wrapping me in his warmth as we watched it all burn. His mother fell to the flames, along with my own parents. He’d kept me safe until dawn, when we were taken to the orphanage with the other survivors. I’d guarded his secret for two decades.

I settled beside the fire, stretching my legs out, willing the heat to seep into my chilled bones. My clothes clung to my skin, uncomfortably damp, but this was far better than braving the storm outside. I tried to comb my fingers through my tangled curls, but frustration got the better of me, and I settled for braiding what I could manage.

Merlin settled beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold. Damn wizard, always throwing me off balance without even trying. It was infuriating. And a bit thrilling, if I was being honest with myself. Which I tried not to be, most of the time.

“Well, this was quite the adventure,” Merlin said too cheerfully, as if we weren’t huddled in a derelict barn while a thunderstorm raged outside. “Fleeing angry barkeeps, desperately searching for questionable shelter, and you scowling at me. It brings back memories.”

I shook my head. “Memories of you getting me into trouble, you mean.”

That was a lie, and I knew it. Sure, he was a troublemaker, but I wouldn’t pretend I didn’t get a thrill from picking pockets and swindling fools out of their coins. It was the best way we had to keep ourselves fed and clothed.

“Wasn’t it you who flirted with that poor barkeep for an hour before he finally took pity on you and poured you a free bowl of soup? I honestly pity the man.”

I inspected my nails, shrugging nonchalantly. “I don’t think I recall.”

The poor man hadn’t stood a chance, his pudgy cheeks flushing as I twirled my hair and giggled. The soup hadn’t been nearly as tasty as I’d hoped after that performance.

Merlin snorted, raking his fingers through his wet hair. “Still, it was my quick thinking that saved our skins back there.”

His “quick thinking” had involved juggling three pewter mugs with his magic, pretending it was pure skill while accidentally dousing a few surly-looking men—definitely mercenaries—in leftover ale. In the chaos that followed, we’d managed to slip away mostly unscathed. Mostly.

“You’re ridiculous, but I’ll give you that,” I conceded. “Just next time, warn me before you start enchanting the crockery. I nearly choked on my tongue when those mugs went flying.”

Merlin's eyes danced with mirth in the firelight. "It was close this time, wasn’t it?"

I scowled at him, which only made him grin wider. Insufferable man. My insufferable man, a traitorous part of my mind whispered. I told it firmly to shut up.

A gust of wind rattled the roof, reminding me of the tempest raging outside our flimsy shelter. I sighed and tipped my head back, hoping the roof would stay intact until morning.

"Guess we're stuck here for the night. Might as well try to get some rest."

Merlin hummed in agreement, already shifting to stretch out on the hay-strewn floor beside me. His arm brushed against mine as he settled. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore the prickle of awareness skittering over my skin.

Outside, the storm raged on, the rain pounding relentlessly against the barn's leaky roof. But inside, cocooned by the crackling fire and Merlin's steady presence, I felt strangely safe. Content, even. It was a foreign feeling after years of scraping by on the streets, always looking over our shoulders.

I turned my head to study Merlin's profile, his angular features cast in dancing shadow and light. He had a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone and his dark hair curled damply against his neck and shoulders. But his eyes were vivid blue, his lips curved in that familiar crooked grin. He looked...beautiful.

Merlin caught me staring and quirked an eyebrow. "Something on my face, Wart?"

"Just a smudge of ugly," I shot back automatically, grateful for the dim light hiding my warming cheeks.

"And here I thought you kept me around for my devilish good looks."

"I keep you around because you're marginally useful. Occasionally."

"Ah, useful . Is that what we're calling it now?" He shifted onto his side to face me fully, head propped on his hand. The fire threw dancing shadows across the planes of his face. "I thought it was called sparkling wit and charming personality."

I snorted inelegantly. "In your dreams, wizard boy."

"You feature in my dreams quite often, Wart," he said, casual as can be even as my heart stuttered in my chest. "But I don't think you want to know what we get up to in those."

I swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry. This was edging into dangerous territory, the kind we normally steered clear of. The kind I'd been trying very hard not to think about late at night, tangled in my bedroll and aching with want.

"Merlin..." It was a warning and a plea all tangled together. Something in my voice made his teasing grin soften into something more genuine, almost tender. It stole the breath from my lungs.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'll behave. Wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities."

I huffed a laugh. "I'll show you delicate, you menace."

Merlin sent me a wide-eyed, innocent look. "Promise?"

I groaned and covered my face with my hands, trying to hide the helpless grin spreading across my lips. "You're fucking impossible."

Merlin chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the drafty barn. "But you love me anyway."

The words hung in the air between us, playful on the surface but laced with something all too real. I peeked at him between my fingers, my heart doing a complicated flip in my chest at the soft look on his face. His eyes searched mine, suddenly serious.

I lowered my hands slowly, pulse thrumming. "Merlin, I?—"

A crack of thunder rattled the barn walls, so loud it felt like the world was splitting open. We both jumped, the charged moment shattering. I let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through my hair.

"Guess that's our cue to get some shut-eye," I said, trying to sound casual even as my heart raced.

Merlin sighed, a rueful twist to his lips. "As the lady demands."

He shifted onto his back, close enough that I was aware of the heat of him but carefully not touching. I immediately missed the contact, even as I told myself it was for the best. We settled into silence, just the drum of rain and the pop of the fire filling the room.

I gazed up at the cobwebbed rafters, my thoughts swirling like a damn tempest. This was dangerous territory. Merlin and I had been through too much together to risk tearing it apart over inconvenient feelings.

And yet…

I turned my head just slightly, stealing a glance at him. His eyes were closed, dark lashes fanned across sharp cheekbones. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, radiating a raw kind of sensuality that made something ache deep inside me.

“I can feel you staring, Wart,” Merlin murmured, his voice low and playful, still not opening his eyes. A tiny smile danced on his lips.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly redirected my gaze to the ceiling. “I was just checking to make sure you weren’t drooling in your sleep. Wouldn’t want you to drown.”

Merlin chuckled softly. “How thoughtful of you.”

“I’m a giver, what can I say?”

We fell into silence again, but it was charged now. The air crackled with unspoken words—or maybe it was just the storm raging outside that made the barn feel impossibly small.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep, to banish the thoughts of how easy it would be to roll over and press my body against the long lines of his. To tangle my fingers in that long dark hair and discover if his lips were as soft as they looked.

I exhaled sharply. Right. Sleep. Not…other things.

Beside me, Merlin shifted restlessly. His hand brushed mine, a fleeting touch that could’ve been accidental, then slid between my fingers in a tentative, teasing gesture. My heart leaped into my throat, and I squeezed his hand once in response.

Merlin exhaled, a shaky sound in the stillness. His thumb traced my knuckles slowly, mapping every ridge and valley. Each glide sent sparks skittering up my arm, pooling in my belly. I craved his touch everywhere, a single-minded desire to explore every inch of him until I could memorize the feel of his hard body. The body of the man he was. Not the boy. Not for a long time now.

“Arthur,” he breathed, the word barely a whisper.

I rolled to face him, our noses nearly brushing. Up close, I discerned the darker flecks in his irises, like shards of midnight sky. His gaze dropped to my mouth before flicking back up to meet my eyes.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. This was the moment that could change everything between us, for better or worse.

“Tell me to stop…” I cupped his jaw, my thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “Tell me you don’t want this and it’ll end here. Like it never happened.”

Merlin’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and I tracked the movement hungrily. “Why would I say something so damn stupid?”

A shiver ran through me, and I briefly closed my eyes, overwhelmed. “This—this could change everything.”

Slowly, giving me a chance to pull away, he leaned in. His nose brushed against mine, a gentle nuzzle, and I felt his breath ghost over my lips, the warmth of him seeping into my skin. My eyes fluttered shut of their own accord. I wanted to savor this.

Just as Merlin's lips began to graze mine, the barn door crashed open with a deafening bang.

We sprang apart like scalded cats, reaching for our weapons on instinct. I blinked the haze of desire away, trying to focus past the pounding of my heart. A hulking figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, rain lashing at its back. Something about the shape of it made my blood run cold.

"Well, well," a horribly familiar voice drawled. "Isn't this cozy?"

Ames and Reeno lumbered into the barn, their brutish forms blocking the doorway. Rainwater sluiced off their mud-splattered cloaks, pooling on the floor. Ames's beady eyes glinted with malice as he took in our too-vulnerable position. Reeno's lips peeled back in a feral grin, revealing crooked yellow teeth.

"Looks like we interrupted a tender moment," Ames sneered. "So sorry."

I scrambled to my feet, Merlin a beat behind me. My knife hissed as I drew it from its sheath. "Not sorry enough," I growled. "You should have kept walking."

Reeno cracked his knuckles, the sound like snapping bones. "And miss a chance to repay you for that little stunt at the tavern? I don't think so."

Merlin shifted into a fighting stance beside me. His eyes were already too bright, and any second now, the mercenaries would notice. "Stunt?" he asked innocently. "Oh, you mean when I made you wear your ale? Purely an accident, I assure you."

Ames snarled as his meaty hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. "The only accident here is that you're still breathing, boy. A mistake we intend to rectify."

"Bring it on, you overgrown sack of horse dung," I spat, adjusting my grip on my blade.

Ames roared and charged, his blade flashing in the firelight. I lunged forward to meet him, steel clashing against steel. He was stronger than me, his blows raining down like hammer strikes, but I was faster. I ducked and wove, looking for an opening. Fighting with daggers wasn’t anything like fighting with swords, but I could manage.

Across the barn, Merlin and Reeno circled each other like snarling wolves. Reeno's fists were up, ready to pummel, but Merlin's hands glowed bright, arcane words falling from his lips. My heart sank to my feet. Now there was no choice but to kill these men. They’d run straight to the king with this information, and I couldn’t allow that.

With a shout, Merlin thrust his palms forward and a blast of golden light slammed into Reeno's chest, sending him flying back into the wall.

I didn't have time to watch him. Ames pressed closer, his blade a blur of deadly steel. I parried frantically, arms trembling with effort. He was so much larger than I was. Our blades locked at the hilt and he bore down, his fetid breath hot on my face.

"I'm going to gut you like a fucking pig, then fuck your corpse, princess," he hissed through clenched yellow teeth.

With a headbutt, I felt the crunch of cartilage against my forehead. He reeled back with a bellow, blood pouring from his nose. Pressing my advantage, I rained down blows as fast and as hard as possible. Small in stature, my speed was my greatest asset. Survival depended on it.

Behind me, I heard Reeno roar in rage and the crackle of Merlin's magic. The air smelled of copper and singed flesh. I prayed to any gods listening that Merlin was holding his own, but I saw the strain on his face. Magic took its toll, even on someone as powerful as him.

I redoubled my efforts, hacking at Ames with a ferocity born of pure desperation. I had to end this quickly before we were overwhelmed. Before I lost the one person who meant everything to me.

Ames stumbled back, his sword arm hanging limp and bloody at his side. I darted in, aiming a thrust at his throat, but he lashed out with a hidden dagger that I hadn’t noticed before. White-hot pain seared across my ribs. I cried out, faltering for just a second.

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted.

Fear rushed through me. He shouldn’t have been watching me; he had bigger problems at the moment.

In his moment of distraction, Reeno landed a brutal punch to his gut. Merlin folded, gasping for air. Reeno kicked him savagely in the ribs, grinning like a maniac.

Rage turned my vision red. With a wordless snarl, I threw myself at Ames, knocking us both to the ground. We grappled in the dirt and moldy hay, his dagger slashing at my face. I caught his wrist and slammed it down once, twice, until the dagger skittered away.

Straddling his chest, I drove my fist into his jaw with a satisfying crack. His head lolled, eyes rolling back. I hit him again for good measure, blood and spittle flying. He went limp beneath me, finally unconscious.

I staggered to my feet, clutching at the gash in my side. Warm blood seeped between my fingers. Across the barn, Merlin blasted Reeno with another surge of magic, sending him crashing into the old horse stalls. Wood splintered and Reeno slumped as he was knocked out cold.

Merlin rushed to my side, his face pale and tight with worry. "Arthur, you're hurt."

"I'm fine," I gritted out. "We need to go before more of their friends show up."

As if on cue, shouts and pounding footsteps sounded from outside, barely audible over the raging storm. Reinforcements, no doubt summoned by the commotion.

Merlin cursed colorfully, slinging my arm over his shoulders. I leaned on him heavily, stars dancing at the edges of my vision from the pain. Together, we hobbled to the back of the barn, kicking open the ramshackle door there.

Rain and wind lashed at us the instant we staggered outside, the storm howling like a living thing. Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the muddy field stretching before us and the dark line of woods beyond. If we could make it to those trees, we might have a chance of losing our pursuers in the dense Kingswood. A slim chance, but it was all we had.

I grunted in pain, my hand pressed tight against the freely bleeding gash across my ribs. On second thought… "Woods are too far," I panted. "We'll never make it, not like this."

Merlin's face was grim, his eyes glowing still. "Then we head back into Camelot. Try to lose them in the streets." It was a desperate plan, but what choice did we have?

Summoning the last dregs of my strength, I let Merlin haul me around. We stumbled through the mud, angling away from the main road and plunging into the warren of narrow alleys that made up the village proper.

The rain was relentless, turning the dirt streets into treacherous rivers of muck. My boots slipped and slid, Merlin's iron grip on my arm the only thing keeping me upright. Blood loss made my head swim, my legs feeling like jelly.

Behind us, angry voices echoed off the close-packed buildings, the orange flicker of torchlight dancing on the wet mud. They were close, too fucking close.

"In here," Merlin hissed, yanking me into a darkened alcove between two ramshackle houses. We pressed ourselves back into the shadows, hardly daring to breathe.

Heavy footsteps splashed past our hiding spot, accompanied by crude curses and threats. I counted at least five men, maybe more. Ames and Reeno's friends were out for blood.

My vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges as I sagged against Merlin's side. His arm tightened around my waist, taking more of my weight. "Stay with me, Arthur," he whispered fiercely. "We're almost there."

Almost where? I wanted to ask, but my tongue felt thick and clumsy in my mouth. Merlin half-carried, half-dragged me onward, my feet stumbling over the uneven ground. The rain had lessened to a steady drizzle, but the chill had sunk deep into my bones. Or maybe that was just the blood loss talking.

Merlin's labored breathing sounded loud in my ear, punctuated by the occasional pained grunt as he shouldered my dead weight. Guilt clawed at my gut. He was running himself ragged, burning through his magic reserves, all to keep my sorry hide alive.

The thought startled a weak chuckle out of me, sending fresh agony lancing through my side. Merlin shot me a concerned look, brows pinched. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I rasped. "Just...imagining the bards singing of your daring rescue one day. Hauling my ass out of the literal and metaphorical fire, as usual."

Merlin's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. "Well, I did swear to be your sword and shield, didn't I? A regular knight protecting his beautiful princess.”

I barked a laugh that turned into a groan, clutching at my side. Angry shouts erupted behind us, far too close for comfort. Merlin cursed under his breath and urged me to move faster, practically carrying me now as my legs turned to rubber.

We staggered into the village square, a wide open space dominated by a massive stone plinth in the center. Atop it, gleaming golden even in the weak predawn light, was the fabled sword. Excalibur.

Every child in Albion grew up hearing the stories—only the true ruler of Camelot, the Once and Future King, could draw the enchanted blade from its stone sheath. For generations, people had come from far and wide to try their hand, from farm hands to princes and kings. The sword had never budged.

I'd always scoffed at the tales, putting no more stock in them than any other fireside faerietale. But now, with Merlin's ragged breathing in my ear and the shouts of our pursuers ringing off the shuttered storefronts, that sword was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. An impossible chance at salvation.

Maybe if I pulled hard enough, I could snap the steel and use it as a knife. Or maybe losing so much blood was making me delusional.

"The sword," I croaked, my split lip oozing fresh blood as I spoke. "Help me get to the sword."

Merlin's eyes widened, flicking from my face to the sword and back again. "Arthur, you can't possibly think?—"

"Please, Merlin," I rasped, desperation clawing at my insides. "It's our only chance."

For a heartbeat, he looked torn, probably thinking I’d lost my damn mind. He shifted his grip on me, taking more of my weight, and together we stumbled towards the plinth.

Up close, the stone monolith was even more imposing, easily twice my height and wider than three men abreast. Intricate runes were carved into every inch of its weathered surface, the swirling patterns mesmerizing even to my untrained eye. And there, jutting proudly from the stone like a beacon, was the sword Excalibur.

Its golden hilt gleamed as if lit from within, the leather wrappings supple and unblemished despite years of exposure. The blade itself was a work of art, its polished length mirror-bright and sharp enough to split a hair. Power seemed to thrum in the air around it, raising the fine hairs on my arms.

Merlin helped me stagger up to the plinth, my blood-slick fingers scrabbling for purchase on the cool stone. This close, I felt the sword's ancient magic thrumming through the rock, resonating in my bones like a struck bell. It felt...familiar...somehow, like an old friend welcoming me home.

I wrapped my trembling fingers around the hilt, the leather warm and supple against my palm. For a moment, I simply savored the weight of it, the rightness of it in my hand. Then, with a deep breath, I pulled.

At first, nothing happened. The sword remained stubbornly sheathed in stone, mocking my idiotic efforts. Behind us, the sounds of pursuit grew louder, the clatter of booted feet on cobblestones, the ring of steel being drawn.

We were going to die tonight.

"Arthur," Merlin warned, his voice tight with strain and barely leashed panic. His hands braced my shoulders, pouring his strength into me.

I clenched my jaw and tightened my grip, ignoring the white-hot agony searing through my side. Gritting my teeth, I threw every last ounce of my will into one final, desperate heave.

And the sword moved.

It moved.

It fucking moved!

It came free with a sound like a sigh, like a held breath that was finally released. Golden light exploded from the stone. It raced up the blade to wreath the hilt, dancing over my hands in warm, tingling waves. I felt it pouring into me, a rush of ancient power, heady and so fucking intoxicating. My hurts fell away and my wound knitted back together instantly.

Merlin gasped behind me, staggering sideways. "Holy gods…" I turned to face him, the sword blazing in my hand. His blue eyes were wide with awe, lips parted in shock. "Excalibur chose you.”

Before I could respond, a chorus of shouts rang out across the square. Ames and Reeno's reinforcements had arrived, a motley assortment of thugs and sellswords with murder in their eyes. They faltered at the sight of Excalibur pulsing with golden light.