Chapter Sixteen

Merlin could in all honesty say that he'd never hit a woman. Killed a few, dropped a light fixture on one, blown up some—all that was true. They'd started it. But he'd never hit a woman, and never really wanted to.

But as he felt himself reappear somewhere else, Xyla's magic depositing them in some unknown location and her hands clinging to him, with both of them sprawled on stone, he was starting find the idea a lot more attractive.

He leapt to his feet as fast as he could, nearly running into Xyla, who was trying to do the same. Where were they? It was small, like a tiny room… a closet? With nothing in it?

"Hold on, Merlin!" she hissed, but he wasn't going to listen to her.

"What…? You… How could you—" He started to raise his voice, but she shoved her hand over his mouth, shushing him.

"You have to be quiet, just for a second…" she started, but he shook her off and tried to push past her, for when he looked up he could see that they were in a stone alcove and she was standing next to the exit.

"No!" he snapped, but she sucked in breath through her teeth and slammed her hand over his mouth again, nearly knocking him down.

This time he didn't pull away, because he heard it too.

Footsteps, coming towards them. Xyla pressed him against the very back of the alcove, trying to make them as small as two grown people could be. She squeezed her eyes shut, whispering underneath her breath.

Merlin, despite the fact that he was still mad enough to hit her, let her keep him back and lean against him as he looked out into the… hall? Room? …outside of the alcove.

The footsteps got closer.

And then Morgana stepped into view.

She was walking, her head up, her hair done, wearing a blue dress. Merlin's breath caught.

And then she kept walking and stepped out of view.

Merlin waited until the footsteps faded, thanking the gods that she hadn't heard him as all the anger drained out of him. Then he looked down at Xyla, who was just opening her eyes and unclenching her fists, her breathing still rapid.

"We're still in the Castle of Fyrien," he said in a tone of wonder.

She looked up at him. "Of course. You didn't think I'd just leave the prince, did you? You would pout for months, good heavens…" There was the teasing tone he'd come to expect from her, but she looked honestly offended.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he admitted.

"I had to get us out of there… We're in the hall, not far from the room where Arthur is." Xyla decided not to tell him how very tempted she'd been to just leave. "Morgana was coming… You couldn't use your magic or anything."

"Well, let's go then!"

"Hold on," she said, taking ahold of his wrists. Grinning, she added, "I've never done this before, so I really hope I don't accidentally take your hands off or anything…"

"Wait, what?"

The look of horror on his face made her giggle impolitely as she incanted. "Dynnu."

The chains fell off into her hands, and she held them up in front of his face.

"Just kidding," she said. "I'm actually pretty passable at magic, you know."

He held up his reddened wrists and blinked at them, feeling the power to use his magic rushing back into his limbs, and he sighed in relief. "Thanks," he told her.

"You can kiss me for it later," she answered, and they left the niche to save the prince.

They stood before the now unmanned, closed door with the mutual feeling that they'd been here before. Only then, they'd had swords.

"Get it, grab a weapon, free the prince, fight our way out, run like hell?" she guessed, and he nodded.

They stood there for a second longer, but nothing more really needed to be said, so at last Merlin just sighed and pushed the door open, and in they went again.