Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
I land hard on my hands and knees, the craggy earth biting into my palms. Wind howls around me. There’s no snow here, but the frozen ground stings my fingers.
Instead of the smoke-tinged, frigid air in Brocéliande, I’m outside the ruins of Mordred’s castle. Dizziness sweeps over me, as it always does when I leap through a portal. Slowly, I stand and lean against a rocky dolmen until I no longer feel like the earth is tilting back and forth beneath my feet.
When I look up again, I realize I’m not alone. My father, Mordred, is sitting across from me on a collapsed pillar, a goblet of wine in his hand. The wind toys with his dark hair, and he surveys me with an amused smile. Unnervingly, his eyes shift from pale blue to gold.
“The fake attack worked well,” he says. “Nice plan. Brutal, really. I see you are determined.”
“Did you watch the entire thing?” I ask, catching my breath.
“On and off. You know, seven men in total have died so far during your decoy attack tonight. Two soldiers and five members of the resistance. I wasn’t sure if you saw them all from where you were. But you, daughter, are just as ruthless as I am, and nearly as beautiful.”
I bristle. “I did only what I had to.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Did you? I suppose that you also had to marry the handsome prince with the pretty face?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
He takes a sip of his wine. “There’s always a choice. Of course, you’ve united two ancient warring families, even if he has no idea. What a claim to the throne you have now—from two sides. Well, we can discuss all that later. Right now, you must hurry to your precious Camelot. The pompous knights of the Round Table are in the midst of a meeting. If you make haste, you might catch them before they go to sleep.”
“You’re listening to their meeting right now?” My stomach twists. I’m the one who planted his silver moth, enabling him to hear and see everything in Avalon Tower.
Here’s the worst thing about my situation: it’s not only in Brocéliande that I’m scared of having my secrets discovered. I can’t let the truth get out anywhere .
In fact, the only person who knows the truth about me is my deranged, morally questionable father, who’s sipping wine before me right now.
“Yes, though the meeting is a dreary business. That bastard Wrythe loves the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he?” He waves his hand. “Go on, daughter. We can talk when you’re on your way back.”
My chest twists at the way he calls me daughter . Because really, this alliance can’t last. I won’t do what I promised. With him, I’m ensnared in brambles, and I have to carve myself through the vines before the thorns sink too deep. I have to keep my blade sharp.
As I march through the abandoned castle, I try not to think about him alone here. I walk past his glittering banquet, over the grassy floors, refusing to feel sorry for him. There’s no room for that in my life, but my chest hurts.
From the half-ruined arches, I pad down a winding stone path to the lake, where I find the paddle boat still on the shore, waiting for me like a faithful puppy. I quickly untie it from the mooring and push it into the water, then leap inside and grab the oars. Shoving the oars in the water, I pull, rowing myself across the foggy waters of Lake Avalon.
When it comes to Mordred, I need to turn my heart into stone.
As I enter the network of golden stone archways and amber spires that make up Avalon Tower, I want nothing more than to burst into my old room to see my friends, to curl under the blankets in my bed for a few hours.
But the knights are meeting now. I’ve come straight to Merlin’s Tower. Its white stones gleam in the night, washed under the silver moonlight.
I yank the door open, and the comforting scent of home hits me. The neatly waxed floors, the polished stone walls, the scent of spiced loganberry pies and roasted venison. Candles burn brightly in their sconces, creating an inviting atmosphere. It takes an enormous effort not to head for the dining hall, and I force myself up a winding staircase instead.
I won’t get a better opportunity to talk face-to-face with the knights. Loath as I am to see Wrythe, it’s the whole reason I’m doing this, but I’m already steeling myself for the condescension of the Pendragon clan, the allusions to my Fey blood. I halfway regret not going to my room to get my Avalon Steel torc.
By the time I get to the top of the stairs, I’m out of breath. I reach the imposing set of iron-studded doors flanked by ancient wood carvings of swords and vines. I take a deep breath and hear an argument within. I recognize Wrythe’s sharp, cold voice cutting off someone, and Raphael say something in answer. I try to catch the words, but the thick doors muffle the sounds. Something about a weapon…? And about a last resort?
Then I hear Wrythe spit my name with derision.
Maybe it’s time to speak up for myself.
The door groans as I push it open, and the chatter falls silent. I cross into the great hall, where moonlight streams in from the high windows onto a great round table. Fifty knights sit around the polished wood, dozens of eyes locked on me.
I recognize a few Pendragon faces. Chief among them is Wrythe, of course. He stares at me with obvious contempt. His niece, Genivieve, sits by his side, her blonde hair swept into coiled braids. Sir Kay sits at the head of the table, his long gray beard draped over his chainmail armor. Out of everyone here, the friendliest face belongs to Raphael’s. He wears an agonized expression and looks exhausted.
“Dame Nia,” Sir Kay says, his lips trembling slightly. His voice is hoarse. “You came.”
With a shock, I realize that six sentries wearing Iron Legion badges stand against the walls of the hall. There never used to be any guards inside the room.
I take another step forward. “I was told I had to show up in person. Some of our allies died to create a diversion so I could come, so let’s make this worth it.”
“Indeed.” Wrythe purses his lips. “You say allies, but you mean Fey , don’t you? In what way are the Fey in Brocéliande our allies?” He eyes the Iron League men, and two of them shift closer to me. They look jumpy, about to pounce.
“I’m talking about people trying to overthrow Auberon,” I say, my voice weary “They’re our allies, whether they’re Fey or human.”
Wrythe chuckles. “I’m afraid you haven’t been at this as long as we have, and you don’t know the heroes from the monsters.”
“Would you kindly call your dogs away?” I eye the Iron League men behind me.
Genivieve stands. “The Iron Legion guards are merely here for our protection, in case of a sudden treasonous attack. After all, the Fey are cunning, and for all we know, they have a mole within our ranks. Someone who has been spending a lot of time with them, perhaps.”
“There’s no need for them in here,” Raphael says sharply. “We are the most powerful knights from Camelot. We don’t need these teenage boys.”
“ Some of our demi-Fey knights have been solely under Fey influence for a long while,” Wrythe hisses. “Like my niece said, this is for our safety.”
Sir Kay raises his hand. “Stand down, Iron Legion.” His voice becomes deeper, sounding like the man he used to be. “Dame Nia is an Avalon Steel Knight. Her actions saved a human army just a few weeks ago. She doesn’t need to prove her loyalty all over again.”
The two men back away from me.
“But she does need to prove her loyalty,” Genivieve says in a silky voice. “Isn’t this why we called her here? So she can explain why she just married humanity’s greatest enemy?”
“I already explained through Nivene,” I say cooly. “I had no choice in the matter. My cover depended on me agreeing to the proposal. It’s not exactly a love match.”
“Surely you could have bought some time,” Wrythe says. “Consult with your commanders before recklessly jumping into the Dream Stalker’s bed?—”
“How about you shut the fuck up, Wrythe,” Raphael shouts.
“Come now, Raphael,” Genivieve coos. “Surely you of all people know that Nia’s judgment is impaired when it comes to strong, gorgeous, dark-haired Fey?”
I turn to Sir Kay, knowing that there’s no point in arguing with the Pendragons, but frustration crackles under my skin. “I didn’t have time to consult with Avalon Tower. As Nivene explained already, the Dream Stalker wanted to marry me straight away to avoid another marriage. An hour after he told me the plan, I was fleeing a basilisk. Listen, all this time, I’ve been following Avalon Tower’s directives. Get close to the Dream Stalker, get him to trust me, and help plan the assassination of him and his father. What you should be asking me about is the number of guards surrounding the king at all times.”
Raphael’s pale eyes are locked on me. “Nia, it was a reckless decision,” he says softly.
“For once, we agree,” Wrythe interjects. “And this supposed assassination plan—we’re supposed to count on Fey of Brocéliande? And a demi-Fey with questionable loyalty? That’s not something we can build our hopes on.”
“We do not agree,” Raphael snarls. “I trust Nia with my life. But the Dream Stalker is a ruthless killer, and keeping her there risks her life. I will not let her experience what I did in their dungeons.”
“What would you suggest?” Sir Kay asks, sounding tired, and I realize this argument has been rehashed over and over.
Raphael crosses his arms. “As I’ve been saying, with our growing alliances, and with the Fey army in disarray, we can pull our knights out of Brocéliande, then launch a counterattack.”
Sir Kay shakes his head. “We already have reports on Fey advances into Germany and Spain. Auberon’s army is retaking territory in France. This war will not be won in this realm. It will be won in Brocéliande. With the rest of the information we have from Dame Nivene, we have most of the intel we need regarding Auberon’s fortress security. But first, Nia, we need to understand thoroughly what happened there. Like Raphael said, I also trust you completely. But the Dream Stalker has been known to influence his target from within their dreams. We need to make sure that he hasn’t subverted your judgment.”
I shake my head. “He can’t get into my mind. I have it shielded. I can keep him out.”
“Yes!” Wrythe quickly pounces. “By conjuring the veil in your mind. A technique that I gather you were taught by the other Sentinel. Except…you already crossed over to Brocéliande before and met the Dream Stalker. Are you sure he didn’t crawl into your mind back then?”
I keep my face impassive, knowing that I can’t say the truth—that even then, I knew how to block Talan out because Mordred had taught me. Instead, I school my features. “If that were the case, would he have let me find out about the dragon attack? And the trap he set for the human allies?”
Sir Kay raises his hands. “We brought you here so you can brief us thoroughly on everything that has happened in the past two weeks. This way, you can answer any questions that we have and assuage our concerns. Let’s start at the beginning.”
So, I do as he says. I give them a thorough briefing, from the moment I returned to Brocéliande. I answer a few questions posed by Sir Kay, and endless questions and accusations from Wrythe and Genivieve. It takes hours but feels like days.
Finally, Sir Kay pushes back his chair and stands. “Enough. Dame Nia has answered everything in a very satisfactory manner. Nia, we’ll get only one chance to assassinate King Auberon and the Dream Stalker. In all likelihood, the assassination will require your active help. But it can’t be done if they suspect you. How confident are you in your cover? Does anyone suspect you? We want to take them both out soon.”
Soon.
My thoughts snag on something thorny, something upsetting I don’t want to name, a briar tangled in the underbrush of my thoughts, pricking at my awareness. I pretend it’s not there, that I don’t feel the barbs.
I clear my throat. “No one suspects I’m a spy. No one still alive, anyway. There are a number of people there who hate me as the commoner who ascended to royalty. King Auberon wants me dead, and I think Countess Arwenna does, too, but they’re not willing to take on Talan directly. I’m perfectly safe. I’m heavily guarded at all times. As far as Talan is concerned, we’re only in a fake relationship, nothing more. I wouldn’t say he completely trusts me, but he needs me. I have the mind-control powers he wants, and he doesn’t view me as a threat.”
Sir Kay nods. “Good.”
“But to help the assassins, I need to know the details of the plan. When and how will it happen? And who is involved?”
A sharp silence fills the hall, and then Sir Kay clears his throat. “This is still in discussion. We will send everything you need to know once it’s settled.”
Sir Kay has been a commander for years, and you don’t command an organization of spies without being able to lie convincingly. But there are many people in the room, and I see enough shifting glances to realize that what he just told me is bullshit.
They have a plan, or at least part of it. But they won’t share it with me.
“This has been far from reassuring,” Wrythe says. “I, for one, am left with more questions than I had before. I have concerns that Nia Melisande can’t be trusted. And there’s no reason to continue with this. Not when there’s a much more reliable solution?—”
“Enough!” Sir Kay thumps the table. “We’ve discussed this over and over. Your so-called solution is not an option.”
As he’s shouting, the Iron Legion guards take a step forward. For a second, I wonder if they’re about to pounce on Sir Kay. I’m not the only one who notices their movement—Raphael’s hand shifts to his hilt, eying the closest guard. I covertly reach for a knife hidden in my leggings.
But Wrythe gives a tiny shake of his head, and the guards pull back.
“I will not discuss this again, Seneschal,” Sir Kay says. He turns to me. “Nia, you said he doesn’t yet completely trust you. Can you get him to trust you completely?”
There it was again, those thorns scraping at my thoughts from beneath the surface. My breath shallows, and I try to push the anxiety away. “I need some time, but I think I can.”
“Then we move forward with our plan,” Sir Kay says. “Thank you, Nia. You’re truly our greatest hope.”
If I really am their greatest hope, they should trust me with the plan.
My throat tightens. Why do I feel like a sacrificial lamb more than a knight?