Discord's Apple

“That sounds like something out of Homer.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a classic.”

“Please let me go.”

“But—”

Evie couldn’t have said where they came from, or where they’d been hiding. Maybe around the last of the mobile homes on the row, or behind a truck parked on the street. They moved so quickly, Evie blinked and they appeared. Merlin took her arm and hurried her back, while Arthur faced Alex.

The warrior closed his left hand around Alex’s neck and held his sword low, with the point aimed at his captive’s bel

ly.

“Who are you?” Arthur demanded, his voice clear and firm.

A vague smile grew on Alex’s face, a kind of mystic realization. “It’s you,” he said, his voice a breath.

“Who are you?”

Alex glanced back and forth between Evie and Arthur for a moment, as if trying to decide something. Then Evie saw where Arthur’s sword was aimed and remembered what Alex wanted more than anything.

“No!” She lunged toward him, but Merlin held her back.

Alex dropped forward and slid onto the point of Excalibur.

Arthur let go of him and tried to pull back, but that only hastened Alex’s intent. Without Arthur holding him upright, Alex fell on the sword, impaling himself before Arthur could draw it away.

Evie screamed and Arthur cursed, catching Alex by the shoulders before he could crash to the ground. The warrior eased him, cradling him on his lap. It was a scene out of Tennyson, if only they’d both been wearing medieval plate armor instead of jeans.

Arthur said roughly, “Idiot! Why did you do that?”

Blood covered Alex’s shirt and coat and pooled on the ground beside him. Wincing, he clutched at the blade. Blood smeared his hands.

Shaking, he propped himself on his elbow and lifted himself from Arthur. He hooked his hand on the sword’s guard. His voice tight, he said, “Could you help me get this thing out?”

Merlin’s grip went slack. Her scream still raw in her throat, Evie crouched beside Alex. Excalibur protruded from under his ribs, looking vaguely ridiculous.

“Please?” Alex said again. “Before it starts to heal like this?”

Arthur gripped the sword with one hand and placed the other on Alex’s chest. Holding the other man’s wrist, Alex helped by leaning away, while Arthur yanked out the sword in a clean movement. Alex’s breath hissed, but a moment later, the creases of pain on his face eased, the tension dissipated, and his hand—which he’d been holding flat over the wound, fell away. He’d stopped bleeding.

She touched his shirt, saw the rip. Pulled it open and tentatively touched the healed, unblemished skin underneath. His hand closed over hers before she could pull away.

“There, you see?” he said, smiling. “I’d die for you. If I could.”

She pulled away, lost her balance, and fell on her backside.

“Who are you?” Arthur said.

Still looking at Evie, he answered, “Sinon of Ithaca. Also Alex of nowhere. You know, I really thought Excalibur might kill me.”

“You are one of the immortal gods,” Merlin said, suspicion darkening his expression.

“No.” He started to climb to his feet, Arthur helping him. “That implies I have some power to go along with this. I don’t.”

Merlin looked unconvinced. “What is your concern with the Walker household? I’ve seen you with the lady twice now.”

“I had hoped to find something there that could break my curse. Failing that—I only want to help the lady.”