Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
T alan leads me by the hand through Aedan’s palace, where smooth, golden stone columns covered with climbing honeysuckle stretch up to a towering ceiling. The ivory marble reflects warm torchlight. Outside, the whirling snow catches in the winter sun. It’s heavenly in here.
“How do you know he’ll go to his bedroom?” I ask.
“He makes new connections and deals during these banquets, and he always leaves a few times throughout the event to write business letters in his room. He will absolutely show up.”
I doubt we’re supposed to be marching through the palace wherever we want, but this isn’t going to stop Talan. He stalks through the place like he owns it. Twice, we pass palace staff, and twice, they avert their eyes and scuttle away without a word. Talan hardly seems to notice them.
“I’m hoping to catch Aedan unaware,” I whisper. “Do you think the maids we ran into will tell him we’re heading toward his room?”
“They will not report on me,” Talan says quietly. “They’re more afraid of me than they are of Aedan.”
“Okay. When we get to his room, I want to hide in there and sneak up behind him.”
“Hide?” He raises a quizzical eyebrow. “I’m not really someone who hides.”
“But I’m the expert on how my magic works, and I need to surprise him.”
“Fine.” He turns and climbs up the stairs, polished pale stone that sweeps upward in a wide arc.
I’m about to ask how he knows where to go when I realize that he’s been here before and visited Eithne’s room. I feel a hot pang of jealousy at that thought, but that, of course, is ridiculous.
We reach the second floor. The air is cooler here and faintly perfumed. Talan leads me down a wide hall, where candlelight flickers over statues of nude woman, their marble bodies draped with vines. At last, he stops by an engraved oak door and tries the handle.
“Locked.” He frowns, contemplatively running his fingers over the metal. “I can probably break in, but Aedan will notice when he gets here.”
“Wait.” I reach back into my hair and pluck out the jeweled brooch from my curls, letting them tumble around my shoulders. I start to twist the pin and frown. “Do you have a dagger?”
He pulls out a knife and hands it to me by the hilt.
“A little burglar.” Beneath his sarcasm, he sounds faintly delighted. “Of course, how could I forget? The first time I met you, you were breaking into my house.”
I kneel by the lock, letting my fingers graze over the mechanism. It’s a simple lock—I could pick it in ten seconds—but I make a show of fumbling. I can’t have my enemy knowing all my tricks.
“And where did you learn to pick a lock?” he asks in a low voice.
“My dad used to lock our door and lose the keys. It happened all the time.” This was true, except it was my mom. “Or he’d lock himself inside and go to sleep, forgetting that my sister and I were still out.” Also true. And when Mom failed to answer the door, I never knew if she was alive or dead, so I always had an intense sense of panic while trying to get inside. My hands would shake as I envisioned her drowning in a bathtub, unconscious from drugs.
“Having trouble?” He leans casually against the wall, watching me struggle.
“One more second.”
I push the pins, applying the pressure with the knife, and the lock clicks. “Oh, wow, there. I think I did it.”
The door swings open, and Talan and I step into a vast round room with curving bookshelves and towering windows. From here, we have a view of the snowy mountains sloping off beneath us. A long oak desk, littered with papers, stands beneath one of the windows.
My gaze sweeps over the room and the large circular bed in the center, neatly made with green silk sheets.
“Let’s see if he has a spare key.” I cross to the desk. “He’ll be expecting the door to be locked when he gets here.”
With his hands in his pockets, Talan stares at portrait of Lord Aedan. “Sure.”
I pull a desk drawer open and rifle through it. My fingers pause they find tiny glass vials, each filled with various liquids labeled in meticulous Fey script. Nightshade . Aconite . Belladonna . Hemlock . Death, in a dozen delicate bottles.
The man does love his poisons.
“Anything?” Talan asks.
“I think I found Aedan’s poisons.” I pick up the bottle labeled Aconite , and my gaze lands on a key ring. “And the keys.”
I slide a bottle of aconite into my pocket, then walk over to the door and find the right key, turning it in the lock until it clicks. “There.”
Talan stands between the door and a bookshelf. He beckons me. “Come closer if you don’t want to be seen.”
I slide into the space beside him, my back pressing against his body. His strong arm slides around my waist, drawing me tightly in. With my head resting on his chest, I hear the steady beat of his heart. My breath catches as his thumb brushes over my hipbone, deliberate and languid. As Talan’s raw power vibrates over my skin, my pulse races faster.
Talan must interpret it as fear, because he leans down to whisper in my ear. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his quiet voice washing the tension from my body like warm water. “I won’t let anyone hurt you when I’m here.”
I close my eyes, melting into him. I have no doubt he’s telling the truth—but his words are a sharp reminder that I’m here to deliver the opposite for him. I’m the one who will hurt him.
Footfalls echo outside the door. I hold my breath as the lock rattles and clicks. The door opens, and Aedan steps into the room.
I ease from my hiding spot and creep forward. Swiftly, I touch the back of his neck and slam him with my powers.
Sleep , I whisper into his mind. You’re so tired. Sleep . As the violet and red threads of my magic slide into his mind, my skull starts to throb with pain. Still, I don’t relent. You crave sleep so badly, so desperately. Real, deep sleep—just for ten minutes. A proper rest won’t hurt. Sleep.
He totters, stumbles toward the bed in the center of the room, and collapses onto the green silk. Already, he’s snoring, the sound echoing over the room.
Talan crosses to him. “How long do I have?”
“Honestly, I think he might sleep for hours.” I massage the center of my forehead to ease the throb of pain. “He was exhausted. He’s not going to wake up anytime soon.”
Talan rests his hand on Aedan’s forehead and closes his eyes. For a few minutes, nothing happens. Talan frowns and opens his eyes again. “I still can’t get in there. He has too many defenses up.”
I study the sleeping lord. I know from experience how unsatisfying sleep can be when I have to keep up my defense against Talan’s powers. “Let me see. Maybe I can do something about it.”
Sitting on the edge of Aedan’s bed, I touch Aedan’s cheek, letting my powers unravel. I stifle a hiss of pain at a jolt in my skull. Touching Aedan’s thoughts, I can see them more clearly now. Some part of his mind is still awake, defensive. Trying to block an intrusion—and he’s so tired of doing this all the time. He’s desperate to give in, to let himself fall deeply under the surface.
You don’t need to keep up the wall , I whisper in his mind. Let go, just for a few minutes. You’ll feel so much better after . Give in to real sleep.
Aedan’s defenses collapse, and his mind relaxes. Talan doesn’t need me to say anything. I can feel his power pour into Aedan’s mind, a current of energy that collides with my magic and nearly pushes me off the bed.
Talan’s dark eyes are locked on Aedan, and his jaw tightens. Around us, the air thickens with his magic, coiling like smoke. “Almost there,” he says quietly. “Give me a few minutes.”
Talan closes his eyes, concentrating intently.
Raphael’s words flit through my thoughts. Don’t wait for Avalon Tower to give you the order. When it comes to the Dream Stalker, you take your chance when you can get it.
What does Raphael know that I don’t?
Talan’s attention is fixed on Aedan. Right now, he’s entirely at my mercy. A lock of dark hair falls into his eyes, and his tattoos glow with faint magic as he weaves his spell. His thick lashes cast shadows against his skin, his focus utterly absorbed in the delicate artistry of his magic. He’s so lost in the dreams that for the first time, he doesn’t look completely untouchable.
He won’t notice if I strike now. With a poisoned-tipped blade, even someone as strong as him will die. One of humanity’s greatest threats will be gone, dead by my hand. Half my mission accomplished. And without Talan, maybe the Fey’s war machine will grind to a halt. After all, I believe he’s the true mastermind behind everything.
With shaking hands, I pull the vial of poison from my pocket. As I unscrew the top, a dreadful thought whispers in my skull. Does he know what I’m doing now? Is this a test?
I pour poison on his knife, hoping that even as sharp and calculating as he is, he’s too lost in the dreams to notice me. His eyes are closed again, like he trusts me. Why does he trust me?
Gripping the poisoned blade, I feel as if the toxin is spreading inside me, turning me rotten from the inside out.
When Mordred trapped her in the tower of Camelot, they say the willows in Shalott turned bone-white with sorrow.
I swallow hard, my nerves crackling with adrenaline. A sharp tendril of loneliness coils between my ribs, and my hand freezes.
It’s not even my assignment. I don’t know why Raphael told me to kill him, but it’s not my official orders. My mission is to get close to Talan, earn his trust, and coordinate the king’s assassination. If I kill him now, I’ll blow my cover.
And if there are other reasons I don’t take my chance…well, I’m not ready to face them right now.
I close my eyes, letting out a sigh. I screw the top back on the aconite and shove it into my pocket. Going to the door, I open it and myself face to face—or rather face to chest—with the last person I want to see.
Maertisa towers over me, her red hair flowing over black armor.
Her eyes widen in surprise, and I know she recognizes me.