Page 1 of The Sword & the Stone

Chapter 1

ARTHUR

I burstthrough the tavern door, Merlin hot on my heels, curses and clattering objects following us like a pack of hungry wolves. The first heavy drops of rain splattered against the cobblestones.

“Arthur, wait!” Merlin shouted, his voice dripping with that infuriating grin I could practically hear even as we sprinted into the night.

I glanced back, a smirk creeping onto my face. “Catch up, wizard boy!”

We barreled down the narrow alley, splashing through muddy puddles as the storm unleashed its fury above us. Thunder rumbled, low and all too threatening, as if the heavens were debating whether to swallow us whole.

We finally slowed, rain soaking us to the bone, my hair plastered to my forehead as I bent over, panting with my hands braced on my knees. Maybe three mugs of ale before running for my life wasn’t such a great idea after all.

“Do you think we lost him?” Merlin asked, pushing his drenched hair from his eyes. His blue irises were glowing slightly, making me glad we’d gotten out of the tavern in time.

“Not if we stop here,” I replied, gulping in the cool, damp air. I glanced up, the moon conspicuously absent, like it knew better than to show its face tonight. The rain fell harder now. “Great. Now we’ll need to find somewhere dry to wait out this monsoon. Home is definitely not an option.”

Merlin tilted his head back, catching raindrops on his tongue like a child. “Why can’t it rain ale instead? Now that would make this night worthwhile.”

I snorted and shoved him playfully. “With our luck, it’d be horse piss instead of ale. Come on, there has to be somewhere we can stay for the night.”

We jogged through the downpour until the tavern’s warm glow faded into the murky shadows behind us. The road narrowed as the village thinned out, giving way to endless crop fields. Lightning forked across the sky, and I flinched, my heart racing; storms and I had an unspoken agreement to dislike one another.

As if the universe finally decided to throw us a bone, the outline of a ramshackle barn appeared, looming from the rain-soaked darkness. Its sagging roof and crooked door hung on rusted hinges, but it offered the promise of shelter from the rain, and that’s all I needed.

"Well, this looks cozy," Merlin drawled as we approached.

I just grunted in response and shouldered open the door. The interior was dim, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning through the cracks in the walls. It smelled of rotting hay and damp earth.Home sweet home.

Merlin conjured a ball of druidlight and sent it hovering near the ceiling. I raised an eyebrow at him. He just shrugged. "What? No one's around to see."

"You're going to get caught one of these days, and I won’t always be there to get you out of it."

I knew Merlin was too clever to let that happen, but it was fun to tease him. He'd been keeping his magic a secret for years, ever since we were scrawny orphans scraping by on the streets.

He just grinned at me. "I'll be careful, Wart. Promise."

The childhood nickname made me roll my eyes, even as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "You better be. I don't fancy having to break you out of the palace dungeons."

"I'd just magic myself out." Merlin wiggled his fingers, and the druidlight danced above us. "Or Gaius would just sweet talk the king into sparing my life."

"Cocky bastard."

"You love it."

Our gazes locked, and a familiar tug tightened in my chest—the kind I’d grown adept at ignoring whenever Merlin was near. I cleared my throat and turned my attention to the crumbling barn, forcing myself to focus on anything but the warmth blooming between us.

“Let’s get a fire going,” I suggested, glancing at the wall that shook with the wind. “We should wait it out and sleep off this damn ale.”

Merlin nodded, already kneeling to gather some dry hay into a makeshift pile. With a flick of his wrist, the hay ignited in a vibrant blaze. The heat washed over me, a welcome relief against my rain-soaked skin. He expertly wove his magic, conjuring a dome of golden light that shielded the fire, letting only the warmth escape while dampening the smoke.

It was reckless to use magic so openly, even within the barn’s sturdy walls. You could never be too careful—a lesson Merlin might never learn. King Uther had banned the use of magic ever since his daughter had attempted and failed to seize the throne with dark sorcery. Merlin was, quite literally, playing with fire.

I’d known about Merlin’s magic the first time we’d met—the night a raging inferno swept through our village. He’d found me screaming and covered in soot, wrapping me in his warmth as we watched it all burn. His mother fell to the flames, along with my own parents. He’d kept me safe until dawn, when we were taken to the orphanage with the other survivors. I’d guarded his secret for two decades.

I settled beside the fire, stretching my legs out, willing the heat to seep into my chilled bones. My clothes clung to my skin, uncomfortably damp, but this was far better than braving the storm outside. I tried to comb my fingers through my tangled curls, but frustration got the better of me, and I settled for braiding what I could manage.

Merlin settled beside me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold. Damn wizard, always throwing me off balance without even trying. It was infuriating. And a bit thrilling, if I was being honest with myself. Which I tried not to be, most of the time.

---