A chill rushes over my body when I hear those words. I just stare at the old man with sunned eyes, unable to speak.
Thankfully Ladon wakes me from my dumbfounded stupor by jabbing me in the side with his elbow.
I take a shallow breath. “You know who I am?” I ask.
The magician chuckles as he steps aside to gesture for us to enter his home. “Of course, my dear,” he says. “I used to be a very good friend of your father’s.”
I feel sick. “Used to be?” I ask, unsure of whether or not I can trust this man. What if he’s still an ally of Merlin’s?
He nods sadly. “Before hatred and jealousy consumed his heart.”
I scoff. “You mean he wasn’t always an asshole?”
“He always had the potential to be one,” quips the magician as we cross over the threshold.
His home is simple and unassuming. Aside f
