“Your son can’t free you?” “I have no son.” My blood pounds hot, and I can’t feel the cold anymore. “Auberon. King Auberon.” His smile twists. “Is that what people think? They think that bastard is my son? No. Auberon belonged to Nimuë and Merlin. Merlin, that duplicitous, traitorous fuck, was the one who cursed me.” I clear my throat. “You murdered King Arthur, and all those people in Avalon—”
