Val looked so wondrous, even in full cave gloom. His dark skin collected what light there was and turned it into a burnished glow. His hair had grown out into soft inches of black curls. Merlin was just old enough to understand that he wanted to kiss him. And far too young to actually do it. Nin had waited until the precise moment when big magic would take that possibility away—and then reunited them.
The Lady of the Lake wanted him alive. She wanted him miserable. She wanted him, most of all, weak. And that’s how he felt when he looked at Val. Dizzy and helpless and far too young to deal with any of this.
“We have to find the chalice,” Merlin said. It was the only thing he felt sure about.
“What if that’s not enough?” Val asked feverishly. Merlin had seen him fly into this mode as advisor to the queen on Lionel. Once he saw the best plan of action, he wouldn’t let anyone else rest until they were on the right path. “We need to stop Nin, and for that we need you. Which means you have to end this backward aging.”
“I can’t.”
Val picked up one of Merlin’s hands, touching his fingertips—the source of his magic. “When was the last time you actually tried?”
The certainty that he couldn’t be fixed was something that Merlin had been holding on to for ages. He didn’t know how to let go of it. “Perhaps I can give it another go,” he said in a tiny voice. The entire crystal cave seemed to echo his doubt. “If that’s what it takes to finish the cycle—”
“You’re still playing by Nin’s rules,” Val cut in. “Merlin, what if you don’t have to finish this cycle? What if you have to break it?”
They searched for hours. The crystal cave seemed to hold everything but the chalice. Merlin and Val eventually gave up. They worked up an impressive awkward silence as they portaled back—and the truth grew crystal clear. All things Nin aside, Merlin needed to turn his aging right-side up if he ever wanted his boyfriend back.
When they reached the peat bog again, Lam was waiting. With Morgause. They were kissing furiously. Lam stepped back long enough to wipe their lips and cast a worried glance at Merlin and Val’s chalice-free return.
“I’m to escort you to Camelot,” they said, holding out their arm for their sibling.
“Ari and Gwen are too busy being scandalous?” Val asked.
“It is sort of their thing,” Lam admitted with a shrug.
“I need to make one stop on the way to the castle,” Val said. “I have to burn the clothes I’m wearing because: Nin. I’ll need something new to meet this Arthur fellow. And someone told me there’s a place where I can get a bespoke corset.”
A few weeks ago, Merlin would have begged Val not to stick out. Now he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to walk into Camelot on Val’s arm as he finally made his grand entrance.
Instead, he had to scurry in through the servants’ quarters.
“Carbuncle!” Old Merlin cried as soon as he’d made it through the kitchens and swiped a few biscuits. Which, of course, he dropped at hearing that word. “I hope the peat bog taught you a lesson. You shouldn’t have left Arthur’s birthday celebration. How can I depend on an apprentice who vanishes into nothing?”
That description was uncomfortably close to what he’d actually done.
Old Merlin turned around and headed back toward his tower. Across the main hall, Arthur came in with Gwen on his arm. The court didn’t even smother their gossip. It flared wherever they walked. Gwen shot Merlin a look of pure misery.
She and Ari must have been exceptionally successful at hurting Arthur. It wasn’t an easy task, but they were all committed to making it through the Arthurian legend as quickly as possible and getting back to their time before Mercer grew stronger. Which meant that Merlin didn’t have much time at all to figure out this backward aging business.
He needed help. He needed someone with magic to spare.
Merlin looked at the receding back of the withered, worm-hearted old mage. Merlin had been amazed, disappointed, and relieved that Old Merlin hadn’t noticed his de-aging. It would no doubt end in another interrogation. And most likely some magical experimentation. But wasn’t that what he needed right now?
He ran to catch up, stopping Old Merlin at the tower door. Merlin took a mighty breath, preparing himself to pull an Ari and tell the truth. It was harder than it looked.
“Haven’t you noticed anything strange?” he demanded.
“Yes,” Old Merlin said. “You’re getting more pesky these days. Like a fly around a rotting piece of fruit.”
Funny, because you’re a rotting piece of fruit! Merlin nearly shouted.
He sighed until he found a sense of calm, which was harder to summon than magic these days. “The night of Arthur’s birthday celebration, I disappeared because… I was losing time.” Old Merlin still looked puzzled. Gods, did he have to spell everything out for himself? “Getting younger.”
“And you didn’t wish everyone to see your humiliations,” Old Merlin filled in with surprising alacrity. He circled Merlin with his hawklike sharpness. He whipped a piece of string out of one of his robe pockets and took a few measurements as Merlin hummed nervously. What had he gotten himself into? Had he really invited the person he feared most into his personal space? “It does seem you’re growing… down… rather than up.”
“As your apprentice, you probably don’t want me crawling around this place,” he said. “It is not baby-proof.”
Merlin held his breath. What kind of tortures awaited him now?
“This is most fascinating!” Old Merlin said, clapping his hands together and standing on his tiptoes, filled with the helium of delight. “Why didn’t you mention that someone put a curse on you? I revel in countercurses.”
“You…
