But I couldn’t, because you stood just outside the cave, and you’d stolen my ability to leave it. You’d stolen my ability to make anything right ever again.
I focused on your mother instead. “Arthur will kill you for this,” I informed her.
“Not when Nimue becomes his advisor,” Nyneve tutted. “Wiser and even more far-seeing than you, because she carries both the power of Avalon and the power of Bardsey in her veins now.”
I had to admit that while Arthur would die to avenge me, he only could if he knew the truth of what had happened. And who would tell him if I was never able to leave this place?
“And Pelleas? Your son-in-law? Is he as serene as you are to prostitute your daughter for power?”
You flinched when I said that, but you didn’t defend yourself.
“Pelleas is loyal to Avalon,” the queen said coldly. “When I told him what was required of Nimue, he acquiesced immediately. He knew how vital it was to correct the imbalance.”
“Imbalance?”
Fury touched her cheeks. “You are the reason my daughters have inherited divided powers—you and your shameless grabbing of this kingdom’s magic. There’s only so much of it, Merlin, and you have been gathering it all to you since the day you were born. No longer. Here you were robbed and here you shall die.”
“No!” you said, stepping between us. “You said you wouldn’t kill him!”
“It hardly matters,” Nyneve rejoined, “whether he dies or lives the next forty years in this cave. He’ll be trapped here either way.”
“It matters to me,” you said, and for the first time, I could see how my power had changed you. You stood taller, your eyes brighter, your voice ringing bell-clear. “I love him.”
Nyneve looked unimpressed. “It does not matter who you love. You are married to Pelleas and you serve me.”
At your mother’s cool anger, your resolve wilted. You were young, Nimue, so young. Not even eighteen and terrified of your mother and carrying the child of a man who wasn’t the man you loved.
“If you’d like,” your mother offered, “I can rip his power from you and take it into myself. And then you can stay here on Bardsey with him all the rest of your days.”
You chewed on your lip. I could see you were thinking about it, and that was enough for me, I think. To hear you announce you loved me and then to see you consider giving up everything—magic and status—to live in this little hovel in order to stay with me?
It was enough.
Because I knew what Nyneve also knew but you did not, which was that it was impossible. I knew little about power transference, but what I did know was that it was unlikely you’d survive it, to say nothing of your unborn child.
“Think on it,” Nyneve said, and stepped down the cave’s path to leave you and me alone, but not before she gave me a look that confirmed my worst suspicions. A look that told me exactly what my own options were if I wanted you to live.
She’d kill you if you didn’t cooperate because you didn’t matter to her. The magic did.
You entered the cave, leaving the protective ward behind you, as if you trusted that even in my bitterness and betrayal I wouldn’t hurt you. You were right. All I did was open my arms so that you’d nestle against my chest as you had countless times before.
“I’m so sorry,” you cried against my chest. “I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t know that I would…”
You trailed off, because you knew that not knowing we would fall in love was hardly an admissible excuse for my captivity. Yet I understood. It was easy to manipulate someone you cared little about, anyone could do that. But manipulating people you loved and respected—that was a cruel game indeed. One I was forced to play in my next life to the extreme.
I kissed your hair. “I’m glad I got to see you one last time. Even after everything…don’t doubt that my heart is glad to see you. Glad to have spent these weeks with you, no matter the outcome.”
You lifted your tearful face to mine, your eyes blazing with honesty. “No. I want to stay here with you, and I’m going to, I don’t care what the cost is.”
“The cost might be your life,” I told you plainly. “And your child’s. Nimue, you have to go home with your mother. Go home to your husband.”
You screwed up your face then, in a sort of determined pout that made me want to kiss you, and kiss you I did, not caring that your mother and her retinue were just out of sight. You sighed hungrily against my lips, and then you were fumbling with your dress, with my tunic and trousers. It was foolhardy with the others so close, but we were quiet, and anyway, I couldn’t starve myself of one last time. Why should I have? What would have been the point of denying ourselves?
You took hold of me and guided me to where you were already wet and opening, like a flower, and you impaled yourself on me. We both watched as I sank inside, spreading you with my ruddy flesh, and then you wrapped your arms around my neck and rolled your hips against mine until we were both sweaty and damp and on the edge. I clapped a palm over your mouth as you came; you did the same for me. And for the last time in that life, I spent my seed inside you.
When it was over, I rested my head on your collarbone. “Nimue,” I begged. “Go. Go back to your husband. Keep my magic and use it to keep Arthur safe, that’s all I ask. Please.”
“No,” you said fiercely. “My mother will never hurt me.”
