Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
S erana, Tana, and Darius walk me across the bridge leading to Nimu?’s Tower, where my boat waits for me in the mist. Our footfalls echo, and the water laps against the bridge. In the cold, foggy night, unease settles over me. Now, when we walk around Camelot, we’re all fully armed. Because of the Iron Legion, even the place I call home isn’t safe anymore.
I didn’t have as much time here as I would have liked—no time to curl up in my own bed with a cup of tea to catch up with them.
I heave a sigh. “I’m not sure I should have left Raphael alone with my mom.”
“He’s a tough bastard,” Serana says. “I’m sure he’ll be able to handle your mom. At least, I think so.”
“What exactly did the knights say to you?” asks Darius.
The distrust I felt at the meeting sticks in my throat. “Nothing particularly helpful. It was sort of a one-way information session, from me to them.”
I want this walk with them to continue forever, but we’re already crossing into Nimu?’s Tower—the round room, where moonlight streams onto the ancient altar and dusty books.
Serana coughs. “Tana, I’m not trying to be rude, but that new incense you have smells like a sewer, and it’s clinging to all of our clothes.”
“Yeah, my boyfriend keeps complaining,” adds Darius.
As we step down the stairs, Tana sighs heavily. “Fine, but only because this is the first guy you’ve dated that my cards didn’t suggest was a fuckboy.”
Darius grimaces. “Don’t say that. You know fuckboys are my type.”
“When do I get to meet this guy?” I ask.
As we reach the boat at the bottom of the stairs, Serana clears her throat, and Tana and Darius become quiet. The waves lap gently against the boat, and mist billows around us.
“What?” I ask, a smile still on my face. “I don’t get to hear more about the non-fuckboy?”
“Well,” Serana says, “we have to talk about Mordred before you go.”
Ice floods my veins. I don’t dare say a single word.
“You don’t have to say anything, or even nod,” Serana continues. “You just have to listen. A while back, you showed up and warned us about an attack by the Iron Legion.”
“Your warning and help probably saved our lives,” Tana says.
“But there’s no way you could have heard about the attack in Brocéliande,” Serana says. “You had to have a source closer to Avalon Tower.”
“And then Tana pointed out you never really told us much about the first time you met Mordred,” Darius says, “but she did remember a scar on your palm.”
Reflexively, I glance at my palm and the faint white scar that crosses the skin.
“That’s a Hemlock Oath scar,” Tana says. “They’re hardly used anymore. It’s an ancient ritual. The Fey performing it would likely be centuries old. Like Mordred.”
“We assume part of the oath is you can’t talk about the oath,” Serana says.
“We haven’t told anyone about this,” Darius hurriedly adds. “Not Sir Kay, or Raphael, or anyone.”
“But we wanted to tell you that we know you made some kind of deal with him, and you probably can’t talk about it,” Tana says softly. “More importantly, that whatever it is you’re doing with Mordred, we trust that it was necessary.”
My eyes mist. I don’t know if saying anything would make the oath kill me, so I remain silent. I’m not even sure if nodding will get me killed.
“We’re here for you, okay?” Serana says. “ Whatever you need from us. Even if what you ask doesn’t make any sense to us, we’ll do it.”
Thank the heavens we’re having this conversation outside of the castle, where Mordred can’t hear it. I don’t want him deciding that my friends are an unnecessary risk.
I glance at the lake, where silver-tinged fog roils above the glassy surface.
“It’s time for me to go,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Serana hugs me, then Darius, and finally Tana. As I wrap my arms around her tiny body, she suddenly stiffens.
“Something’s coming,” she whispers to all of us. “Danger. Shadows in the night. Murder in their heart. You need to go!”
She shoves me at the boat, and I trip over the wood, falling into the damp base of the vessel. As the boat rocks drunkenly, Tana screams at the others to run back onto the bridge. Shadows are moving, weapons drawn. My heart speeds up. Three members of the Iron Legion are running toward us.
Maybe Tana told me to fuck off, but I’m not leaving my friends to fight them on their own. I climb out of the boat and race up the stairs after them.
When I reach the bridge, I see Serana unsheathing her enormous sword, holding it in front of her. I yank two knives from my belt. Darius unshoulders his bow and nocks an arrow.
The three men skid to a halt, shrouded in fog.
“Don’t come any closer,” I shout to the silhouettes. “You can turn away without getting hurt, and this will be forgotten.”
“I won’t be forgetting anything,” Serana says, her jaw clenched.
“Mongrel scum,” one of the figures hisses.
And then they run to attack us through the mist.
Darius lets an arrow loose, and Serana lunges forward, swinging her sword. As one of the figures swings an enormous axe at me. I duck, already thrusting with my dagger, and it sinks into his side. He lets out a cry, then kicks me in the chest. I stumble back, slamming against the stone wall. My teeth snap together with a jolt. He staggers away, gripping his side in pain.
Serana pivots and slams into an attacker. He gurgles, tumbling off the side of the bridge.
Only one left now, a tall, thin silhouette in the fog.
I throw my other knife, and it finds its mark in his thigh. The man lets out a high-pitched yell, and I recognize his face. It is Tarquin, his features contorted with pain.
He’s already turning to run.
I yank another knife from my boot to go after him, but Tana grabs my arm.
“Don’t! They have way more allies than we do,” she hisses. “You have to get out of here, Nia. You have to do it now.”
I catch my breath. “Any idea who fell over the bridge?”
“I think it was Percival.” Serana peers over the bridge. “He’s dead.”
I turn to Darius, who slumps against the bridge. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” His voice is strained, and he’s gripping his bleeding arm. “Second time those fuckers got me. Tana is right. You have to go. You were their target, not us.”
My mouth goes dry. “Why?”
Tana shakes her head. “The Iron Legion don’t want the assassination to take place. They have a different plan, and we’re standing in their way. I think they don’t want the war to end because it keeps them in power. But I’m also certain they don’t want the demi-Fey to be heroes.”
“What, exactly, is their alternate plan?” I ask.
Serana grips my shoulders and spins me back toward the stairs again. “We don’t know, and there’s no time to talk about it! You must go.”
She’s practically forcing me down the stairs, and the others follow behind her.
“Wrythe will use this somehow,” Darius says. “He’s going to frame it as an attack by the Fey against humans. Nia, if you don’t go now, there won’t be another chance. Get to Brocéliande and help us find a way to end this war.”
“And Nia,” Tana says softly, “stay away until it ends. It’s not safe for you here.”
At the bottom of the stairs, I climb into the boat again and start rowing. Wrapped in fog, my three friends stand together, watching me until we can no longer see each other.
Tana’s right. It’s not safe for me here. I’ve lost the place that felt like home.
But what I truly hate is what I need to do next.
I cross into Mordred’s pale stone castle, shivering as I climb the crumbling stairs. On the banquet table, flames burn in the candelabras, and shadows dance over empty crystal glasses. Inside the ruins, my gaze roams over the strange beauty of this place—the wildflowers growing from the floor, the plates left abandoned for centuries. Moonlight pours through jagged castle windows and the ancient stone carvings.
An ache rakes at my heart. At this point, Mordred is a loose end I need to tie up. I know my friends will keep my secret, but what happens if Wrythe learns the truth?
He’s a liability.
If I kill Mordred, I smother the risk of his spy moths being discovered and connected to me. On top of that, with him out of the picture, I need no longer worry about what kind of revenge he might take when I don’t uphold my part of the bargain.
Mordred steps from the shadows draped in a fur-lined mantle. A lump rises in my throat.
Rings gleam from his fingers, and he’s wearing his sharply spiked crown. As his changeable eyes, sometimes blue and other times gold, land on me, he inhales deeply. “What happened? You smell like human blood.”
The Fey sense of smell misses nothing…which was an excellent reminder that I needed to get rid of the blood before I showed up in Perillos once more.
“Does your glamour magic work for scents?” I ask.
“ Magic ?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do people from California have something against washing?”
“I don’t have time.” I’m edgy and anxious after the recent battle with Tarquin and his friends. “I can’t have people in Auberon’s palace smell human blood on me.”
He cocks his head, and his crown slides down a little over his black hair. “Yes, I can do that. But first, tell me what happened.”
“Didn’t you follow me with your magic spy moth?”
“Only in the castle, daughter. Don’t you know that? My moth can’t see what happens beyond the walls.”
“I was attacked by Pendragons. The Iron Legion.”
“Did they use iron?” he asks sharply, eyes twinkling. “I have a way to heal that. Nimu? taught me a few years ago.”
“I’m a demi-Fey. I don’t have to worry about iron as much as you do.”
His nose wrinkles. “Yes. Right.” A slow, sharp smile curls his lips. “But didn’t I tell you? The Pendragons are your true enemy. With my help, we will kill them all, like I planned to do a few years ago.”
My eyebrows rise. “A few years ago?”
“With Queen Morgan.”
This man had no sense of time. “Right. Of course.”
“You can’t let the Pendragons live. I know you understand the need to crush your enemies.” He nods at my cloak. “Just as you’re wearing the blood of your enemies. Are they dead?”
“One of them. The rest escaped.”
“They will die later.” He steps over to me, frowning. “Your ears need work as well. They’re on the verge of looking deformed again. Human .”
“I guess you don’t get to practice your social skills much here on the island of ruins, do you?”
Frowning, he traces his fingertip over my ears, then brushes it over the collar of my cloak. His magic tingles over me. “That’s better. Now, you’ll soon be ready for my party. You must help me get the best mead for it, you know. The crowberry mead from Shalott.”
I swallow hard. “Of course.”
Torchlight glides over his pale skin. “So. You’ve met with the weakling Sir Kay and the rest of the knights. You know, it seemed to me they were wary of you. Didn’t seem particularly interested in sharing their plans, did they?”
“It’s just for security reasons,” I say tersely. “They don’t want the agents involved to know all the details in case someone gets arrested and interrogated.”
“Of course. Just for security reasons.” Amusement pulses in his eyes. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
My heart flutters. “Why? Do you know anything?”
“I’m interested in what you think, Nia. Why do you really think they decided not to give you the exact details of the mission?”
I need to know what he knows. But Mordred’s help comes with a price. “I think they no longer completely trust me because I married Talan. They suspect my loyalties are compromised, and some of them will never trust anyone part Fey.”
“Yes.” Mordred nods. “And they’re right, in a way, aren’t they? After all, you’re here. Talking to me, the man who stormed into Camelot to murder their king. They do have a point, really.”
My jaw tightens. “I did what I had to.”
“There’s that sentence again. I did what I had to . Such a pithy justification for doing whatever you want.” He arches an eyebrow. “You always act as if your hand is forced by fate. Own your decisions. You did what you wanted to, daughter, as you should have. You don’t answer to fate or those idiots in Avalon Tower. You are better than they are. You are a princess of the house of Morgan, heir to the true Fey throne. And you answer to no one but yourself. Do not feel guilty for what you are or what you do.”
“You listen to their conversations. Do you think it’s true that they don’t trust me?”
“That pretty silver-eyed man would follow you blindly to the moon and back.” A smile curls his lips. “The same goes for your close friends. But that Amon fellow—he’s shrewd. I heard him tell that wizened old man, Sir Kay, that it’s better if some of the mission details remain secret from you, just to make sure. Of course, the Pendragons wouldn’t trust you to make their porridge, but that’s nothing new.”
So, Amon doesn’t trust me anymore. And in all probability, neither does Sir Kay.
“It’s a fake alliance with Talan,” I say, more to myself then to him. “They don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Whatever you say, princess.” His eyes gleam wickedly. “The important thing is that once we take down Avalon Tower, our golden age will return once more!” His voice echoes off the high ceiling.
“Right,” I say hollowly. My misty breath clouds around my face.
I do what I have to do.
I need to end this alliance, this bargain we made long ago. I need to kill Mordred. Break into his mind, disable him—a blade to the throat to end it all. My fingers itch to grab my hidden dagger.
This moment has been long coming, and he has no more leverage on me. Surely he understands that. In fact, I’m surprised he didn’t trick me into another Hemlock Oath. It seems out of character for him not to demand a pledge to fulfill my bargain. I swore not to tell anyone about him. I never promised I’d do what he wanted beyond that.
His golden eyes shine in the torchlight, mournful.
Something catches the corner of my eye. The flickering candles, the moonlight gleaming over the crystal goblets on the table. As my gaze sweeps over the old banquet, I feel like my chest is cracking open. This man has been waiting centuries for the party he planned with his mother. And right now, I’m reminded of a little boy waiting at a birthday table for a party no one attended. Somewhere deep down, I sense how much he misses his mom. This was something he planned for her .
Fuck.
And more than that, he saved my life, and probably my friends’ lives. He got Raphael back.
And really…he’s a better parent than Mom.
My eyes mist over. “Mordred, I don’t think I can help you do what you want to do.”
He raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh?”
“Humans need Avalon Tower right now. If you destroy it, humanity is doomed.”
His gaze narrows. “Then why are you telling me this, Nia? Have I taught you nothing ? Why would you show your hand so clearly? You didn’t even try to kill me.”
“I thought about it.”
He shrugs. “Well, that’s something.”
“You knew I was going to break my deal with you, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. What I didn’t expect is for you to tell me that you are breaking the deal. That’s something only a stupid person would do.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe I don’t want to murder my father, and maybe I’m sick of lying to everyone. And you seem…” I hesitate.
His expression sharpens. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He seems lonely, and he’s also one of the only people who know the truth about me.
I pull my cloak tightly closed. “I will come here again, but I want us to be honest with each other. We’re family.”
A line forms between his eyebrows. “Idiotic sentimentality. That’s your human half talking.”
“Perhaps.” I shrug. “But maybe it’s my better half.”
“Wait,” he says.
“I’m not going to help you, Mordred,” I say without turning.
“I know. This is a warning. You are going back to Brocéliande. Danger waits for you there. Never let your guard down. Make no mistake, it is not your home. This, here, is your home.”
I step into the portal, knowing that he’s right. Brocéliande is not my home, but neither is Avalon Tower anymore.