“It is, but don’t worry. It’s safe in our hands, and so are you,” Morgan assured her. “Besides, you’re no stranger to strong magic.”

“I use a little magic to forge my jewelry and fight,” Val admitted.

“More than a little.” Morgan nodded at Val’s amulet. “Especially if it has been passed down through your family for so long.”

Val laid her palm over the amulet’s warm pulse. “It hasn’t. The queen gave it to me.”

“Oh?” Morgan raised her eyebrows. “Julie didn’t tell me she’d found an ancient Iron Dwarven artifact.”

“She didn’t tell me much either.” Val paused. “Do...do you know something about this amulet, ma’am?”

Morgan laughed. “There’s no need for that here, Eiravel. You can call me Morgan.”

“Okay.” Val smiled, and the knots in her shoulders released.

“I am not well-versed in dwarven magic. A dwarf sage could tell you more,” Morgan admitted. “It’s both old and powerful, though.”

“A dwarf sage?” Val sighed. “I’ve never met one of those.”

“The Lunar Fae are not the only species who lost much of our knowledge and power during the Second Pendragon War.” Morgan shook her head. “We’ve recovered much since Julie became queen, but I know that almost all para civilizations lost much in that time.”

“The Iron Dwarves, too?” Val asked. “But why? We didn’t have to go into hiding the way you did after Mordred attacked King Arthur.”

“Perhaps not, but all the same, the Second Pendragon War lasted for centuries,” Morgan explained. “Every para group’s focus was on the war. We didn’t pay attention to anything else. Battles destroyed many of our libraries and killed our most learned mages.” Morgan shook her head. “That time was destructive to every language, art, and culture, human and paranormal.”

“I guess I didn’t realize,” Val murmured. “I had the same conversation with Sir Bedivere earlier today when I realized that the Iron Dwarves forged Excalibur. I don’t think any of us could build a weapon like that today.”

“Maybe.” Morgan’s eyes glittered. “Maybe one could.”

The weight of her words settled uncomfortably on Val’s shoulders.

“We are ready to begin!” Merlin boomed, raising his arms so the sleeves of his robes formed a second pair of wings.

“Drama queen,” Julie muttered.

“Bring forth the vassal!” Merlin thundered.

The queen rolled her eyes and face-palmed.

Lancelot, Guinevere, Kaye, Gawaine, and Percival disappeared into the trees. They returned a few seconds later, pushing the obsidian cage between them. Moonlight reflected sharply off the black substance since it repelled lunar magic. Fourth sat within, knees to her chest, arms around her knees. She showed no fear. Her eyes sought Val and narrowed in a sullen glare.

The knights halted at the edge of the artifact circle.

Merlin turned to Val, arms still raised. “Let the liege step forward!”

“That’s my cue,” Morgan muttered.

She joined Merlin, King Arthur, and Julie inside the circle, and moonlight flowed from their skin and bathed the clearing.

The amulet’s warm pulses quickened, becoming a drumbeat. Val shuffled to the edge of the circle. The fae were almost too bright to look at, so she gazed at Fourth instead. The faerie maintained her glare.

Merlin and the other fae in the circle bowed their heads and simultaneously extended their hands toward one another. Their fingers did not touch, but silver ropes of moonlight extended from their skin and bound them together. Then glowing cords wrapped around their forearms and torsos until dazzling light entangled them. Queen Julia pulsed the brightest, and when she smiled, the other fae smiled too.

As one, the fae stepped back to the edges of the artifact circle. Even the statues now pulsed with light.

Merlin raised his head. “Eiravel Stonehold, enter the circle.”

Morgan and King Arthur loosed their hands, allowing Val to step between them. The moonlight kissed her skin, cool and gentle but powerful.

She stood in the center, facing Merlin. His gaze dipped to her amulet, then returned to her face. “Eiravel Stonehold,” he boomed, “do you understand the depth of this magical binding?”

Val hesitated. “No.”

The corner of Merlin’s lip quirked beneath his well-kept mustache. “I’m not surprised. This is ancient, forbidden magic, and for centuries, I thought it was lost. Let me explain. A magical binding is similar to a geas. Do you know what that is?”

“An almost unbreakable magical vow.” Val rubbed the back of her neck. “They can be evil or good.”

“Yes.” Merlin nodded. “Geasa are linked to the creation magic that runs through every Lunar Fae. Magical binding works in a similar manner. This is more than a vow, though.” He nodded at the obsidian cage. “This magical binding will alter the essence of this faerie’s being. As her biology and magic tell this faerie to fly, breathe, and think, it will now tell her to obey your commands. She will be totally in your control. Do you understand?”

Val swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then bring out the vassal!” Merlin’s voice rose. “Let the binding commence!”

Flames hissed, and a ball of fire formed in Guinevere’s fist. She held it up as a warning. Two knights opened the obsidian cage. Fourth fluttered out and hovered at the circle’s edge, her head turning left and right.

“Flee if you choose, faerie,” Guinevere growled, ball increasing in size. “Understand that I will use deadly force to contain you.”

The faerie stopped and gritted her teeth. Her tiny hands curled into fists, and she fluttered into the circle. A shudder ran through her as the moonlight bathed her body. Like Sinatria, she wore a dress woven of grass and leaves, although hers was torn and bloody in places.

“Go on, Hat,” the queen murmured.

Merlin closed his eyes. Val froze as tendrils of silver magic grew like creepers across the circle. They found her boots and wound around them, then climbed her legs. Her amulet throbbed like galloping hooves as the magic curled around her torso.

Val couldn’t help closing her eyes, soaking in the beauty of the lunar power. This magic was unlike anything else in the world, able to transform, heal, create, and command. It was as old as the world and as new as the dawn.

The faerie gave a strangled gasp. Val opened her eyes as the magic wrapped around Fourth’s delicate arms and legs like shackles. She struggled, but the tendrils of light seemed stronger than iron chains.

“Hat—” the queen began.

“By Eternity Law, I may not proceed with the ritual except by her consent,” Merlin grumbled. “Snowflakes.”

“Hat!” Julie snapped.

“Fine. Do you consent?” Merlin demanded. “Or are you stupid enough to sentence yourself to death or the prison realm?”

The faerie stopped struggling. “I consent,” she growled.

Merlin nodded, and more coils of light wrapped around the faerie’s body. She twitched and shivered, then cried out. The queen winced, but Merlin, teeth gritted, pressed on. The faerie squirmed.