Arthur slammed the door to Merlin's room and stalked down the hall toward his room. He smashed in through the door, lashing out at the sofa as his chest heaved. Anger surged and abated with each sharply inhaled breath and he gripped a handful of blond hair, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.
To his immense irritation, the pock-marked, white ceiling held no further answer for him and slowly he brought his gaze earthbound.
And found someone in his apartment.
"Who are you?" he asked, not bothering to check himself. Courtesy be damned. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, leaving it sheathed only because the boy had no visible weapon.