Merlin sighed. “It certainly seems that way.”
Ari’s knights appeared, tramping away from Omaira, leaving the lights of the city behind. Together the small, quiet band followed a stone road to the spot where the desert opened up like a dark-red sea. Merlin had spent the afternoon inspecting their outfits and dressing them in the remnants of Lionelian fashion on Error. He’d been so successful that they now appeared as if they’d fallen out of a distant time, even if his fashion demands had turned slightly… ominous. Particularly when he apologized profusely and put Lamarack in men’s clothes to match their leather armor—and made them scrub off their makeup.
“Did you say good-bye to your mothers, Ari?” Merlin asked.
“I did,” she said grimly. “I told them they couldn’t ask where we were going, in case Mercer tries to get it out of them.”
“Not that anyone would believe them,” Gwen added.
“Or be able to follow us,” Ari said, holding tightly to Gwen’s hand.
“They can’t chase us to the past, but they can certainly wreak havoc while we’re gone,” Merlin said, thinking of the Lionelians they’d fought so hard to save. Big Mama, sitting on her eggs at this very moment.
“I don’t trust the rest of the representatives to hold out against Mercer for long, especially if we’re missing,” Ari said. “How long will we be gone?”
Merlin didn’t have an answer to Ari’s question. They would find Arthur’s chalice as quickly as they could, but it wouldn’t be an easy task. For a flicker of a moment, he didn’t believe that it could be done. As they marched, that flicker grew into a burning, blazing fear. “If we get lucky, we could be back tonight, so to speak. We can return to any time we want to. The trick is figuring out how to get back.”
“How much farther are we going?” Gwen asked, looking dangerously exhausted.
“Not far,” Merlin said, nodding to Jordan, who swept Gwen up in her broad arms and carried her like a baby.
“She’ll be a terrible target,” Merlin whispered to Ari. “If it’s obvious that she’s pregnant and not married to a man, they could stone her.”
“Stone her?”
“Beat her to death with stones.”
“What?” Ari blurted, alarming every single person in their company. She grabbed his arm and yanked him close. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“How could someone joke about that?” he asked, bright tears blurring his vision. “I’m trying to warn you. Back then it’s not Mercer you have to worry about. It’s murder. Sexism,” he said, glaring at Gwen. “Racism.” His eyes bounced across the group. “Homophobia!” he croaked.
“Homo what?” Ari asked.
“You must listen, Ari,” Merlin said. “King Arthur was special because he rose from the ashes of one of the worst times in human history. That’s why it was called the Dark Ages.”
Ari’s grip fastened on Excalibur. “Merlin, this isn’t just to stop Mercer and save the baby. We’re going to look for a way to save you, too, to stop your backward aging, before…” She didn’t have to finish her sentence. Merlin felt his own ending looming up like a doorway to oblivion. He didn’t tell her that he’d started to give up on having a future, that he couldn’t afford that hope any longer, although he suspected she sensed it in his resigned silence.
This would be Merlin’s last quest, and so he had no choice but to make it his greatest.
“Here,” Morgana’s voice rang out, causing everyone to stop. At first, there was only the night, but then the light-blue shimmering soul of the ancient enchantress appeared before them.
“How do we make it happen?” Ari asked.
“We combine our magic. As much as we can gather,” Merlin said, closing his eyes and humming. He took Ari’s magnificent sword, leaking incandescent energy into it, making it shine like a bright star. When he was done, his singing voice dwindled out, and he sagged slightly.
Ari eyed the glowing sword, and Jordan set Gwen down. “Now what?”
“Give me a moment.” Morgana threw her dark head back, taking in the silver stars. “How will you return? The opening will only hold for a moment.”
“The elegant nightmare makes a great point,” Val muttered.
“We’ll find a way. That place sounds like it’s overrun with magic.” Ari turned to Gwen, dark doubt in her voice. “Do you trust me? It’ll be my goal to bring us back to this time, to fix this future, but who knows if that’s possible.”
“Of course,” Gwen said, her honesty as brilliant as torchlight.
They faced Morgana. The enchantress held a hand to Ari’s cheek, and one on Merlin’s. “The people of that time and place will seek to kill you, while their savagery and ignorance will break you. You, because you’ve never imagined it,” she said to Ari, and then she turned to Merlin, “And you because you believed you’d escaped it.”
Merlin felt a chill in the desert wind, but he hardened his stance.
Morgana positioned herself with the tip of the sword on her chest. “Aim for my heart, old wizard.”
“It’s magician,” Merlin coughed.
“Wait, you’re going to… kill her?” Ari asked, horrified. “No, I—”
“Farewell,” Morgana said. She reached for Merlin’s shoulders and pressed close in a rush. Merlin felt the impending death magic rattle through every single atom. Morgana screamed with the kind of pain that ended worlds, Excalibur rushing straight through her.
And the night exploded with blue light.
They were thrown back into the sand, nothing left of Excalibur in Merlin’s palm except for the handle and hilt. Nothing left of Morgana except for a contracting web of gray mist. Merlin had killed Morgana, so it wouldn’t leave a hole in Ari, but he felt one open up, unexpected and ragged, in his own heart.
“Go!” he yelled. “Before it closes!”
Lamarack shouted a warning, but Merlin’s eyes were already set beyond this time and place. He struggled to his feet, one arm locked around Ari. They moved as one through ice-cold mist, away from this end and into the cursed heart of the very beginning.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, we would like to acknowledge King Arthur for maybe (but probably not) existing, and Merlin, for getting past that awkward part of history where people thought he was just some magical demon spawn. Also, a shout-out to Gweneviere for surviving centuries of patriarchy, slut-shaming, and way too many spellings of her name.
T. H. White, thank you for the retelling that sparked our retelling. Thank you for showing us that the Arthurian legend could be high-spirited, funny, sad, and resistance literature all at once.
Thank you to the queer authors who came before us and paved this road to a more inclusive future. Thank you to the readers of these books, and the LGBTQIAP+ heroes of the real world who so rarely see themselves reflected on the page.
Thank you to the outspoken, the people who stand up to injustice. Who strike a blow—any blow—against oppression.
Thank you to Cori’s Lebanese family, whose struggles against cultural assimilation inspired much of Ari’s journey.
Thank you to our brilliant writing group, SAGA, and Mr. Daum for inspiration and light during a very dark time.
Thank you to Queer Pete, our kindred rainbow spirits.
Thank you to Emily Andras for the show Wynonna Earp, the nerdy, feminist, stuffed-with-queers adventure we always needed to watch. And you know, Emily, if you’d like to turn this into a show…
Thank you to Imagine Dragons, because whether they knew it or not, they wrote the soundtrack to Once & Future.
Thank you to our agents, the Sara(h)s, who never once faltered when we said we wanted to write queer King Arthur in space.
Thank you to Aubrey Poole, our knightly editor astride a green space dragon, for making this book fiercer and funnier and truer.
Thank you to James Patterson, our unexpected champion, for believing in this story and seeing a place for it on the shelves.
A huge HUZZAH to the entire JIMMY team for a cover that made us swoon and such shining, unbelievable support.