Chapter 18
Warm air wafted through the arches, tugging at the gossamer curtains. It was always summer in Avalon, the sky always clear or dotted with perfect clouds, and the air always smelt of apples.
It was perfect in every way – yet Jalen sensed a taint in the air that hadn’t been there before.
He wasn’t sure if it was Avalon or himself.
He felt hollow, devoid of anything that had made him who he was.
Bitterness coated his tongue and crawled down his throat to settle in his belly, transforming into worms that had been chewing on him since he had returned here.
Niniane was before her mirror, the surface swirling and dancing, forming into shapes and then bleeding away into mist and silver shadow.
‘What do you see?’ Jalen asked. He watched the curtains shift in the perfect breeze.
‘Nothing.’
Jalen frowned. ‘What does that mean?’ He didn’t understand how the mirror worked exactly, only that his mistress could see the world as it was, as it used to be and as it would be.
‘It seems Merlin has hidden them from me,’ Niniane declared. She sighed, pulling the heavy cloth back over the surface of the mirror.
When Jalen had first learnt about Arthur’s coming, he had wanted to see the man who would be king, the man who would reshape the world, and Niniane had shown Arthur to him in the mirror. That was the first time he’d seen the man who would be king – the man who would own what was left of his heart.
Niniane drifted over to and lounged upon the large cushions that littered the marble floor. She did not speak for a long time, watching the birds wheel through the sky beyond the arches. ‘I can’t see them – any of them.’
Jalen remained standing. ‘Not even Ordes?’
She laughed. ‘Especially not Ordes.’ She drew her gaze from the sky to Jalen’s face. ‘What did he say to you?’
‘When?’
‘When he had his hands around your throat. What did my son say to you?’
‘He…’
‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll remove the memory from your mind, Jalen,’ she added, examining her fingernails.
Jalen felt the words rushing up his throat. He pushed them down, stomach clenching painfully. He could bear it, for as long as he needed.
Niniane’s gaze locked on his. ‘Tell me what Ordes whispered to you on the deck of that blasted ship.’
Magic threaded through her voice. It crawled inside Jalen’s skin, and he could feel it pushing its way through him, digging for the truth.
‘He told me if he ever saw me again, he’d kill me,’ Jalen said.
He ground his teeth together – his insides felt like they were burning as Niniane’s magic raked through him like claws.
It hurt, more than anything, to lie to her.
He shouldn’t be able to do it. The bond between Old One and demi-god was as solid as rock.
A demi-god could not lie to their master.
They had to obey every command, answer every question and let themselves be a tool.
Yet, Jalen had broken that bond before.
Or had Ankou let him go?
Niniane released him and he repressed the urge to sigh in relief. He’d keep those words tucked inside him for as long as possible. He didn’t want her to know, though he could not articulate why, and that realisation sent a thrill of fear skittering along his spine.
‘If only I’d have known how he’d turn out.
It’s his father’s fault, of course. Do you remember meeting Ordes as a child?
’ Niniane asked. There was nothing wistful or yearning about her tone, and Jalen realised he’d never witnessed her mourn for the child that had been taken from her.
She could have easily taken him back, but she didn’t.
‘I do,’ Jalen said softly.
‘He was supposed to be the key to everything.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jalen asked. ‘I thought Arthur—’
She shook her head. ‘Ordes was created for one purpose and now, he’s refusing to do what he was made to do. Does he know? I’m not sure. I don’t think even Merlin would be stupid enough to tell his son he was made to die so the world could be remade.’
Jalen froze. ‘What?’
‘If they find the Grail and remake the world, Ordes will die,’ Niniane said. ‘But he’s going to remake it wrong.’
‘That’s all you care about? He’s your son and you’re mad, not because he’s going to die but because he isn’t going to die the way you want him to?’
Her eyes slid to him, dark and angry. ‘Careful, demi-god,’ she said, voice low, the threat unveiled. ‘Remember your place.’ Niniane lifted her hand and a fresh wave of pain shot through Jalen’s body. He grimaced, trying to remain upright, but surrendered and collapsed onto his knees.
‘I made you what you are, gave you back your life,’ she said.
‘If I don’t have your loyalty, Jalen, what use are you to me?
’ She rose from her cushion and stood in front of her mirror, her long dark hair shifting around her like it was a living thing.
Eventually, she glanced at him over her shoulder.
Jalen kept his expression as neutral as he could.
Her magic had faded but the pain of it lingered.
‘Will you send me back?’ Jalen asked. Send me anywhere, he thought. Anywhere but here. He wanted to slap himself for failing to see what everyone else so obviously had. He’d been blind, so terribly blind, to not realise what she truly was, and now it was too late.
She shook her head. ‘Not yet. Let Merlin play his games. It doesn’t matter. I will get what I want in the end. It’s long overdue, Jalen. It is time for magic to take its rightful place in this world again, but he’s testing my patience.’
Jalen wasn’t sure who she was referring to. But he didn’t dare ask, let alone breathe, until Niniane swept from the room. He closed his eyes and slumped forward, a supplicant kneeling before a goddess who was not beautiful and just, but cruel in her selfishness.
How had he failed to see it?
You’ve done it before so do it again. Ordes’ voice was as clear as it had been that horrible day on the deck of The Excalibur.
Jalen bit his lip. Ordes, who’d been made to die for the world his mother wanted.
A tool, like the rest of them were. Niniane had blamed everything on Ereshki, and Jalen had fallen for it, taken the lie as truth because it suited his own desires and what he thought he’d wanted. He understood that now, but too late.
Arthur’s stricken face slammed into his thoughts and Jalen sat up, throat tight. Even if he could sever himself from Niniane and not die in the process, Arthur would not take him back.
‘And what else did your mistress say?’ Ophine’s voice was cold. They had their arms folded, and their glare threatened to flay the new human skin from Jalen’s bones.
‘That’s everything,’ he said.
Ophine scoffed but did not argue with him.
Instead, they rubbed their skinny fingers against their scaled jaw.
It was a gesture Jalen remembered well. Irritation was one of Ophine’s favourite moods.
‘I’ll admit I’m finding it difficult to believe you severed the bond and came all the way back here to the lowly Otherworld because you had a fight with your boyfriend. ’
‘That’s partly the reason, but not—’
Ophine rolled their eyes.
‘You can stand on your moral high ground for as long as you’re comfortable there, Ophine.
Look down on me, like you always have, I don’t care,’ Jalen said, his own irritation rising.
He’d forgotten how quick and hot human emotions were.
‘I made the decision because I wanted to do something to help. I wanted to do the right thing.’
‘Worked out what the right thing is, have you?’ Ophine sneered. ‘I always said you weren’t very smart. You’re the sort who clings to those in power. Like you’re now clinging to my master. You’re not here for him or your precious Arthur. You’re here for yourself.’
Jalen laughed, unable to help it. Ophine’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but aren’t we all out for ourselves in some way? Even you. Melodias cast you out, Ankou saved you and you claim you’re here in gratitude—’
‘I am,’ the wraith hissed.
‘–but I think you like your power, Ophine,’ Jalen said. ‘You like being out there in the world of mortals, dipping your toes into their lives. You like that you’re now more than the one who steers the ship of the dead. There isn’t anything wrong with that.’
‘I’ve always been more,’ Ophine growled, then stalked from the room.
‘You shouldn’t tease them.’
‘I know,’ Jalen said. ‘Old habits I suppose.’
Ankou shook his skeletal head. For a moment, he wasn’t the God of the Otherworld, a powerful Old One, but a father dealing with naughty children. The smirk fell from Jalen’s lips.
‘I’m sorry.’
The Old One nodded, gesturing to his mirror. The surface swirled and Arthur’s face appeared. His hair was dangling in his eyes, and he held the Sword of the White Dragon, his expression blank. Even without his magic, Jalen could almost hear the Treasure whispering.
‘There will be further heartbreak for him,’ Ankou told Jalen quietly.
‘What do you mean?’ He did not take his eyes from Arthur’s face.
‘You know yourself how strong, how fathomless, power can be,’ Ankou said. ‘Right now, Arthur is balancing on the edge of a canyon. Darkness on one side, light on the other.’
‘Arthur—’ Jalen began.
‘Everyone has darkness inside them,’ Ankou cut in, and Jalen did not object any further. If anyone, mortal or immortal, understood the play of light and dark within a human soul, it was the God of the Otherworld.