The Hunter's Prey (The Fay Morgan Chronicles Book 5) by Katherine Sparrow

went unfocused. And that told me something. Something that must have been guessed at in the far reaches of my back brain, for as soon as I thought it, other things that made no sense, such as how she commanded so much power, clicked into place. This entire hunt, and why I was the hunted, suddenly made sense.
    “Surely a man as infinitely powerful as yourself does not need to keep me hanging and helpless in the air,” I said, speaking to the empty hallway.
    Agnes looked up at me with empty eyes.
    My muscles slowly became my own again as I floated back to the ground and landed gently upon the marble floor. I heard footsteps, and turned to watch a tall and thin blue man come out of a door and walk toward me. He was impeccably dressed like any wealthy Middle Easterner in a long thawb and linen pants. To say that he was powerful was like saying the ocean was wet. Huge magics surrounded him as he glided across the ground with long strides. He stopped when he stood next to the witch, who looked small and drab beside him.
    “Isn’t it time you rested, Agnes?” the blue man asked with a silky voice.
    She nodded slowly. “It is time I rested,” she repeated and walked away with shuffling steps and a creased brow.
    I craned my neck to study this creature who stood over seven feet tall. The blue man stared deeply into my eyes. “And so we meet, Morgan le Fay. I did not think it would be under these circumstances. You are the first prey to ever bring herself in. An unusual gambit, though in the end it will not save you.”
    “Saving myself is not my primary concern,” I answered truthfully. “I had wondered if we would ever meet, ever since your daughter was dragged into Hell,” I said. “But before we speak of Lila and all those matters, Marid, I will claim my wish that you promised to any who brought me to you.”
    “Ah yes, a wish!” he clapped his hands. “Let me guess. You wish to be free of me? Or protection for my daughter? Or how about immortality? Invincibility? Name your boon”
    I had no ability nor intention of staging this negotiation standing up. I turned and walked away from him, feeling the bristling massive powers of the Marid behind me. I walked as though I knew where I was going and turned into the nearest doorway which happened to be full of settees and high backed chairs. I managed to not collapse as I sank down into the most comfortable-looking one.
    Lila’s father followed me in and reclined in the long couch opposite me.
    “My boon?” I said. “My deepest wish is for your daughter’s freedom and safety, but you would never honor that wish, would you?” I paused and watched the hint of a smile on his face, confirming what I knew must be true. “So instead I wish for Merlin Ambrosius to be full of vitality, which I will define as having abundantly good health and an ability to heal from wounds, but which expressly does not mean immortality or invincibility.”
    “Interesting and more interesting, fair Morgan. In all my years there have been few wishes that were not selfish,” he said. His softly glowing eyes watched me like a tiger toying with a mouse.
    “Oh, but my wish is selfish,” I said. “I owe the wizard more than I can ever repay, and I make this wish to even out our debts.” I didn’t add that it was also selfish because when I had seen him wounded today, I discovered I could not live in a world where my Merlin could be so easily wounded. This wish would change that.
    “And why not immortality for the wizard?” the Marid asked. “There are scant few roads to immortality these days, now that the Grail is banished to another realm. Easily enough retrieved,” he added and watched me, “though none with real power have bothered yet to go get it.”
    I licked my lips instinctively when he said the word Grail. A dizzying and vast thirst and hunger washed through me. Which was, of course, his intention. To test me. To see if I would ask him for the Grail instead, to beg him to