Ever After (7 page)

He bypassed them all and went to a heavy wooden pedestal that held a vase depicting a couple in the throes of passion. He knelt before the pedestal and lifted one of the panels to reveal a safe in the wall that was armed with not just a fingerprint scanner but a retinal scanner and a twelve-digit code. When he finally opened the safe, he withdrew the item inside and gingerly set it down on the table.

“What I am about to show you is known only to a few privileged individuals who have been trusted to keep its contents confidential—”

“So, why're you telling us about it?” I asked, wondering just how many people knew all about this supposedly secret tome. “I mean, if it's supposed to be a secret.”

Merlin gave me an acerbic look. “I'm offended that you could even think I'd be so careless with this knowledge!”

“Oh no, Merlin, I know you're a great one for secrets.” I sent a pointed glance Arabella's way.

He opened his mouth to protest, but then snapped it shut again and shrugged. “True. But this is different, Gideon. I share it with good reason. The secrets within this tome are of such great import—”

“Always so dramatic,” Arabella muttered, rolling her eyes. “This isn't your show, Merlin. Get on with it.”

Merlin opened the book where a red satin ribbon marked, revealing a text written in Early English. His eyes glimmering with excitement, he spun the book around for me to read. “Take a look ... at
this.
”

“Here, let me,” Arabella said, moving to take the book and read it for me as she'd done in Make Believe, regaling me with the stories of our Tale brethren, laughing her way through the amusing bits and wiping the tears from her cheeks when their stories did not end with Happily Ever After.

I was tempted to let her read to me again, but I placed my hand on hers. “I've got it.”

A slow smile curved her lips, and never had I been prouder of my education than when I saw the delight in her eyes as she realized I could read. When I pulled the book closer to me, she wrapped her arms around my bicep and leaned around to look at the text with me.

I took a deep breath, drawing in the honeysuckle scent of her, and then skimmed through the text quickly, my brows coming together in a frown. When I finished the passage, I looked up at Merlin, not surprised to see him watching us with a smug grin, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I've never heard any of this before,” I told him.

He laughed and spread his arms wide. “Well, of course not! That's rather the point, old boy.”

“But this is a full inventory of Arthur Pendragon's relics,” I said. “There was only a handful known to the Ordinaries through his story here, Excalibur being the most famous, of course.”

“That was by design,” Arabella said, carefully turning the page so I could read the next passage.

I shook my head as I read, a horrible sinking feeling in my gut growing with each word. “This says that if one person possesses all of the relics, it will make him unstoppable, that he can never be vanquished, he can never die.”

Merlin nodded. “Exactly so. Now you know why it's been kept a secret all this time. If the wrong person was to acquire all the objects . . .”

“But how did this knowledge come to the Here and Now?” I asked. “This text is hundreds of years old. It clearly wasn't written by a Tale since our relocation, Merlin. How did they know this? It's almost as if . . .”

“As if Arthur was real and not a Tale,” Arabella finished for me.

I turned my head to her. “The Ordinaries have always theorized that Arthur was based on a real person in the Here and Now.”

“He wasn't just
based
on a real person,” Merlin explained. “He
was
a real person. He was an Ordinary. The Arthur who lived and died in the Here and Now is the same Arthur who lived and died in Make Believe. They were one and the same.”

I began to pace, trying to process what Merlin was telling me and the implications of such an anomaly. “How is this possible?” I murmured. “How was an Ordinary able to actually exist in our world
and
this one?”

Merlin shook his head. “I have no idea. I practically raised the boy, Gideon, you know that. And I guarantee you, his father was a Tale. But this was before we even knew of such a place as the Here and Now, before we knew to look for a Tale aura. Who would've thought that there were those among us who weren't . . .
like
us?”

“So, when Arthur died . . .” I mused, not wanting to voice my conclusion.

“He died forever,” Arabella said, her voice little more than a whisper. “But Merlin says the part about my mother sending Arthur to Avalon is true, so I like to think he's still alive there, as immortal as any Tale. And I hope my mother's there with him, that they're finally able to be together. That maybe there's a place where a Tale and an Ordinary can be happy after they're gone.” She laughed, the sound a little shaky. “But maybe that's just the romantic in me.”

I frowned at her, curious at her declaration. Arabella was many things, but a romantic wasn't one of them. She'd never believed in happily ever after; she'd told me so when we were in Make Believe. She only believed in
now.
She'd reiterated as much to me on more than one occasion even today.

But before I could respond, Merlin added, “You've yet to ask the most obvious question, old boy.”

I turned my attention back to him, trying to focus on what I already knew. “I have a million questions.”

Merlin gestured toward the book. “But the
big
one is ... ?”

“Why did Arthur die?” I said, seeing what he was getting at. “If he had all of the relics Nimue made for him, and they are as powerful as you say, then he should've been immortal.”

Merlin leaned over the desk and whispered conspiratorially to Arabella, “He always was a clever one.”

Her grip on my arm tightened. “I've always thought so.”

When he caught sight of my scowl, Merlin cleared his throat before continuing. “You are absolutely correct, old boy. I believe someone stole the actual relics and replaced them with fakes, leaving Arthur vulnerable. Unfortunately, I didn't discover the deception until it was too late. By then, there was nothing we could do except take his body to Nimue.”

“But it wasn't just Arthur that was returned,” I deduced. “It was the relics as well, all the tokens of her love for Arthur.”

Merlin inclined his head, confirming his role in the tragedy. “I do have my moments. I'm not always the self-centered bastard you're so inclined to believe me to be.”

The jury was still out on that one. I'd yet to know Merlin to do anything altruistic without an ulterior motive.

“Who sent the soldiers to steal them away from her?” I asked, getting back to the point.

“I've no idea,” the wizard admitted on a sigh. “I had a vision of an attack, but it was unclear who was coming for Nimue.” He paused, an uncharacteristically somber expression darkening his face. His voice was curiously tight with emotion when he continued, “I came as quickly as I could, but she was already gone, and the relics were nowhere to be found. Even her sweet child, who was but ten years old, had disappeared.”

“The soldiers took Arabella?” I asked, covering Arabella's hand with mine. It felt cold, clammy. I glanced over at her, concerned to see her skin growing pale again, but she gave me a weak smile.

Merlin shrugged. “I assumed so, but it seems our brave girl struck out on her own, hid in the forest.”

“I wouldn't call it brave,” Arabella muttered, uncomfortable with the praise.

“I searched everywhere,” Merlin continued, “but she was nowhere to be found. In fact, it wasn't until well after you'd gone into service with the king that I finally found her. She was so lost, confused after the falls. I took care of her for a time, helped her find her way again. Hardly surprising that when she came over, she sought me for help.”

A deeply affectionate look passed between them, making my blood boil. I didn't like to think about how Merlin might've “taken care” of her in Make Believe, how he might've preyed upon her vulnerability. I snaked an arm around Arabella's waist, pulling her against me in a protective, possessive move that was no doubt the cause of the amused grin Merlin wore, but I didn't give a shit.

“What of the relics?” I asked, pointedly avoiding the topic of the nature of their history together. “How many have been located? How many remain missing?”

“I've retrieved all but seven,” Arabella said, her voice taut, bringing my attention back to her pallor. “The three that were taken from the Met, Arthur's shield, his ring, and Excalibur. And, of course, the last one is the helm I had in Make Believe that vanished when I fell.”

“And, aside from the helm, which you discovered is in Chicago, do we know where any of the remaining relics are?” I prompted.

“
We
don't know anything about their location,” Merlin drawled, sweeping his hand toward Arabella and me, “but
I
have a lead on the ring, no thanks to that ridiculous Italian dandy who fancies himself a spy.”

“Fabrizio, you mean?” I chuckled, finding Merlin's criticism a bit ironic, all things considered.

“They have a bit of a rivalry going,” Arabella stage-whispered to me with a grin. “I think Merlin's jealous.”

“Jealous of an idiot who got himself trapped in a mirror after screwing the wrong witch's daughter?” Merlin grunted. “Not bloody likely.”

Arabella's eyes twinkled when she winked at me. “Well, Merlin, if you are so assured of your superiority, perhaps you should share this supposed lead on the ring?”

He did a little dance shuffle out from behind the desk and raised his arm, striking a theatrical pose. “The ring is . . .” He paused a beat for dramatic effect. “On the hand of fair Guinevere.” With that, he knocked his top hat off his head onto his shoulder, popping it with his bicep and catching it in midair.

“Nice try,” I told him.

He slapped his hat against his thigh with a huff. “Oh, come
on
! That was
brilliant
! Who else do you know who can do the thing with the hat?”

“I'm not talking about your little performance, Merlin,” I drawled. “I'm saying I saw Guinevere just this morning and didn't notice a ring on any of her fingers. She made a point of assuring me she was single.”

“I'll bet she did,” Arabella mumbled.

Merlin blinked at me in a rare moment of astonishment, not used to being wrong. “But . . . I had it from a reliable source. I've had Rick Rumpelstiltskin on the lookout for a particular style of ring—of course, I didn't tell him why. Probably thinks I intend to give it to one of my ladybirds. He told me Guinevere brought the ring in to have it appraised when she came to Chicago on business a week or two ago.”

Rick Rumplestiltskin ran one of the swankiest jewelry businesses in Chicago's Jewelers Row. If anyone could offer an expert opinion, it'd be the infamous imp.

“But Guinevere told me she didn't keep any of the relics with her,” I insisted. “She said they were all on loan with museums because she thought they were better protected that way.”

“Perhaps she lied to you,” Arabella suggested, her tone clearly displaying her distrust of the erstwhile queen. She batted her lashes at me. “But, then, I suppose it
is
difficult to pick up on someone's obvious deception when you're completely mesmerized by the breasts she's shoving into your face.”

I was jolted by the accusation, wondering how the hell Arabella possibly knew about Guinevere's advances. “How'd you—”

Yeah . . . I wasn't even going to finish that sentence. It was a no-win.

“The ring isn't particularly flashy,” Merlin interjected, uncharacteristically coming to the rescue. “It's just a series of Celtic knots forged in silver. She could easily keep it in her jewel case and no one would be the wiser.”

I scrubbed my jaw with my palm, mulling over the number of mysteries that were piling up. A soft gasp from Arabella snapped me out of my musings and I turned my attention to her. I lifted her chin with the edge of my hand, disturbed by how much trouble I was having getting a read on her. “Are you all right, lass?”

She nodded, forcing a weak smile. “Of course.”

Merlin's grunt in response brought my gaze to him. “Bella, you need to tell him.”

She glared at him. “Sod off, Merlin. This is my affair.”

“What aren't you telling me?” I demanded.

“You haven't yet asked about the fairy dust,” Merlin prompted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Arabella muttered a curse under her breath and sent Merlin a beseeching look.

At the mention of the fairy dust, the magic in the king's binding spell flared, searing my skin and making me wince, but I ignored the pain to ask, “What of it?”

Merlin dragged his gaze away from Arabella's and began, “She needs the fairy dust—”

“To shift,” she interrupted, throwing her hands up in the air with a laugh. “You caught me! My magic is rubbish. However, shifting has become quite an asset to my relic liberation efforts, as you can imagine. And, unfortunately, it tends to take the piss out of a girl. I need a dose of dust now and then to combat the fatigue.”

Merlin's expression was sour when he muttered, “Yes, quite.”

I studied them both, knowing the bullshit they were feeding me was only half the truth. But I feigned ignorance to see how things would play out. “So you decided to steal the fairy dust you needed? You couldn't have just gone to a distribution center for a prescribed dosage?”

Arabella averted her eyes. “It's not that simple.”

I took her hand and pulled her to me until our bodies were nearly touching, and captured her gaze, everything male in me smugly enjoying the way her chest rose and fell rapidly when we stood so close. My voice was a husky rasp when I added, “You could've come to me.”