CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO #4
"Yes. You will maintain your correspondence with Merlin, disclosing to him only what I instruct you to share.
But anything you discover, any plans he reveals, any movements of his forces—anything at all—no matter how important or seemingly unimportant—you'll bring directly to me.
" I paused. "And you will answer all my questions regarding his forces—every detail about troop numbers, magical capabilities, and strategic positions.
His plans—whether grand schemes spanning months or simple daily routines.
I want to know how many sorcerers stand with him, what creatures he's bound to his service, and which of the old noble houses have pledged their allegiance to his cause.
" I moved closer still, until only inches separated us, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"You will tell me about his weaknesses, his fears, his regrets.
What drives him, what keeps him awake at night, what he values most in this world.
I want to know everything, Guinevere—from the layout of his stronghold to the color of his morning robes. "
"You want me to betray my own father?" The words came out strangled, as if speaking them aloud made the betrayal more real.
I studied her face, noting the way her throat worked as she swallowed, the slight tremor in her hands that she tried to hide by clenching them into fists at her sides.
The moonlight streaming through the windows made her appear so small, so fragile—though I knew better than to mistake her delicate appearance for weakness.
Our little warrior.
"You were playing Merlin's game." My voice dropped to a low murmur as I reached out to trace the line of her jaw with my finger.
Her skin was soft beneath my touch, warm despite the cool night air.
I felt her pulse quicken where my thumb brushed against her throat, a rapid flutter that betrayed her composure. "Now you're playing mine."
She stepped back from my touch, her eyes flashing dangerously. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you die as a traitor." I shrugged, as if her fate meant nothing to me. "Your choice is simple: serve me and live, or remain loyal to Merlin and die."
"There's nothing simple about betraying one's blood." Though she said the words, I could see the lie in her eyes. As far as I understood, from what I had gleaned from her conversation with Nimue, she didn't appear to have any love for Merlin.
"Merlin used you as a pawn," I pressed, sensing the storm of conflicting emotions that raged behind her eyes regarding the man she'd only recently discovered was her father—perhaps this was an avenue I could exploit, a crack in her armor that I could widen to serve my own purposes.
The dragon stirred within me, recognizing opportunity like the predator it was.
"He kept you ignorant of your own heritage, your own power, your own worth. "
"I am certain—"
I found it curious that she would come to Merlin's defense and interrupted her by taking a step closer, watching as her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"What loyalty could you possibly owe to a father who treats his own flesh and blood as merely another weapon to be drawn from his arsenal?
A tool to be sharpened and wielded against his enemies, then discarded when no longer needed?
" My voice grew softer, more persuasive, as I continued my assault on her fractured allegiances.
"He had your entire life to claim you as his daughter, yet he chose to let you live as a peasant.
Only when he needed a spy did he suddenly remember your existence. "
My words hung heavy in the air between us, and I could see them landing like physical blows against her already wounded heart. Merlin's deception had cut her deeply; that much was clear. Indeed, I could absolutely exploit this vulnerability for my own advantage.
"Consider my offer carefully," I continued, the words carrying the weight of both promise and threat as I turned away from her to face the tall windows overlooking the courtyard.
A storm had moved in, and the rain had begun in earnest now, fat droplets striking the glass, creating rivulets that trailed down the window like so many rivers.
I let the silence stretch between us before speaking again without turning back to meet her gaze.
"By dawn, I'll demand your answer." The words fell with the finality of a blade striking stone, each syllable carefully measured to convey that this was not merely a request but a royal decree.
Time was a luxury she no longer possessed.
When I finally pivoted to face her once more, I found her still standing there, though something in her posture had shifted—a subtle straightening of her shoulders, a barely perceptible lift of her chin that spoke of internal resolve being tested against insurmountable odds.
Her eyes met mine with a mixture of anger and calculation.
It stirred something within me, something dangerously close to admiration.
"Do you understand?"
She nodded, the movement sharp and decisive despite the tremor I caught in her hands before she clasped them. "I do."
"Choose wisely, Guinevere." Her true name rolled off my tongue like a caress wrapped in steel. "Your life depends on it."