Chapter 39
CHAPTER 39
T he impact is sudden and startling. My mind suddenly feels free, and the headache is gone. Until now, I didn’t realize how much effort I’ve been spending maintaining the veil. All day and all night, it’s been draining my magical power, and now, the fog is lifted from my thoughts.
Somewhere, in the distance, Talan’s magic reaches for me, the shock of realization slamming into him.
There you are. A note of cold anger slides under his smooth, velvety voice.
What, exactly, has he already discovered about me, now that I’ve let him in?
He’s not a telepath like I am. Usually, he can’t seek out another’s conscious thoughts, only their dreams, their hidden desires and fears. And yet, he’s heard my voice for years, my thoughts.
I’m desperate for this connection as I scream at him mentally that I’m trapped by a cliff. And just in case that doesn’t work, I conjure a vivid image of the cliff, trying to communicate the picture, even if he can’t hear my thoughts.
Is it really you, little telepath? Six resonant words, humming with dark fury, and then he disappears from my mind.
He’s cut me off.
The loss of the connection feels like the breath leaving my lungs.
He knows everything now. He’s knows I stole from him in the Chateau des Rêves. He knows I’ve been lying to him the whole time.
An ache opens in my chest, worse than the knowledge that I’m about to die. Stupidly, I’d hoped he would come for me even if he knew the truth, but my betrayal is too deep. How can he let a traitor like me live?
A sharp whistle cuts through the air, and an arrow splinters on the cliffside above my head.
With my heart hammering against my ribs, I duck behind a jagged boulder, pressing myself as small as possible. Terror coats my tongue as I breathe in short, sharp gasps.
No one is coming to help me.
But as I crouch there, curled up like prey, something shifts in my thoughts. With the heavy fog out of my mind, I can feel the pulse of magic flowing through me, stronger than ever. The veil I’ve been using to shield myself from Talan must have been leeching my magic, smothering my powers all this time, but it’s gone.
My magic roars to the surface.
When Tana first told me I was the Lady of the Lake, I didn’t know what it meant. Mordred had promised these powers would grow in Brocéliande, surrounded by a world of magic. Magic feeds on magic, blooming from the soil of enchantment here. But only now can I truly feel the Lady of the Lake’s powers cascading through me, a waterfall of strength.
I’m not alone after all.
An ancient, unbreakable bond connects me to the Ladies of the Lake who came before me, a magical current flowing through time and merging with Nimu?’s spirit. This is her home now, and her body lies buried in the soil of Brocéliande. Her magic lives in the ground beneath me. Her spirit rushes through the trees and shimmers on the forest rivers.
But it’s Morgan’s power, too. Before she ruled as queen, she was the Lady of the Lake. Now, her magic ripples through my body.
All three of us—Nimu?, Morgan, and me—are entwined, our forces churning together.
I am no longer just Nia Melisande, hunted and alone. I am a covenant of three. A sisterhood. A triple spiral carved into the stones, strong as the oaks, old as the rocks. Fathomless as the lake itself.
As the magical current flows into my soul, my senses grow sharper, Fey-like. I am the living keeper of Lake Avalon’s power.
I hear Vidal and the other attackers creeping toward me, their pounding hearts and labored breaths. My senses drink in every detail: the thick scent of their hair oils, the faint creak of leather, the smell of mead on their breath. Four of them with murder in their hearts, thinking to catch their prey unaware.
I crouch, listening as they inch closer.
Their hearts boom like war drums heralding their own deaths.
BOOM.
Gripping my sword, I leap from my hiding spot.
BOOM.
These Fey move as if wading through treacle—sluggish, doomed. My blade sings through the first man’s throat before he blinks. Blood sprays, shimmers of bright crimson in the sunlight.
BOOM.
My sword carves through a raised arm, and the soldier’s eyes widen in shock.
BOOM.
I kick the first man’s body into the two behind him.
BOOM.
Smash a nose. Rip a sword from limp fingers.
BOOM.
Block a clumsy thrust with one blade and skewer him with the other.
BOOM.
My sword slides through bone and sinew, severing a terrified man’s head before he can even scream.
BOOM.
The last one turns to flee. I hurl my sword, and the blade spins end over end, finding its mark in his back. He jerks, staggers, then drops to the snow.
Silence.
Four men lie dead at my feet, and I’m still catching my breath.
A whisper of danger prickles at the edge of my senses, and a hail of arrows zips through the air. I leap behind the boulders, and they splinter against the granite.
My magic is weakening, dissipating. I can’t maintain it much longer. As it leaves my body, I’m left dizzy and weak, yearning for its company again.
“What are you all waiting for?” I hear Vidal shouting.
“She’s killed Ector, Durnure, Lot, and Morholt,” someone shouts, terrified. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast. What the fuck was that?”
“She’s just one woman!” Vidal roars. “There are almost twenty of us left. Charge her!”
Silence greets me.
“Cowards,” Vidal spits. “I’ll show you how my sister’s murderer dies.”
I carefully peer from the side of the boulder. Vidal’s men are cowering behind trees. Only Vidal stomps forward, his face twisted in hate. He grips his sword tightly.
I stand and point my sword at him. I can only hope Vidal’s men won’t fire arrows at me when I’m this close. “I’ve already killed six of your men.” I force my voice to stay steady. “And you know that I killed Maertisa. If you come any closer, you’ll be next.”
Vidal’s lip curls. “Maertisa was poisoned . A coward’s weapon. You would never have beaten my sister in a fair duel. And the six you’ve killed today were weak little twats. You’re good, I’ll grant you that. But I’m better.”
He lunges forward.
I’ve seen Vidal fight before, dueling with Raphael. And Raphael just barely managed to beat him.
I’m nowhere near as good as Raphael. Without the magic from Morgan and Nimu?, I’ll be dead within moments.
I try to swing at him, and my sword is twisted and wrenched from my hand. He lets out a short, mocking laugh. “So, this is the dangerous woman you were all so afraid?—”
I don’t let him finish. I move in, touch the back of his palm, leap into his mind?—
And I’m thrown out.
I wasn’t expecting that. Vidal’s mind is so brimming with hatred and fury aimed at me that there’s no way my magic can get into his thoughts. It’s as if he’s maintaining a veil in his mind—a veil of pure wrath.
He backhands me, and I stumble away, hitting the boulder. I taste blood in my mouth.
“I’ve been thinking of this moment for weeks,” he snarls. He raises his sword above his head. “It won’t be quick. One limb at a time.”
But before he can bring down his blade, a blur of darkness crashes into him, knocking him down.
Stunned, I stare as Talan slams his fist into Vidal’s head, battering his face. Furious, Vidal fights back, reaching for Talan’s throat. But all it takes is one more brutal, ruthless punch, and Vidal’s head is caved in.
He’s dead. Crushed, his face an unrecognizable pulp.
Talan stands, blood dripping from his leather gloves, and turns to face the rest of the King’s Watch.
He hasn’t even looked at me.
“You all know who I am.” His voice is low and quiet, his fury barely restrained. “I’ll be counting to twenty. Anyone still here will find himself wrapped in everlasting nightmares, screaming and begging for death until I slit his throat. Anyone who breathes a word of this to the king will meet a worse fate.”
They drop their swords to the ground.
“One,” says Talan, his voice smooth. “Two…”
The men of the King’s Watch run, stumbling in their desperation to escape.
Talan’s glacial eyes root me in place. He’s taking in the blood, the carnage. “Are you hurt?” Steel laces his tone.
I glance down at myself, at the blood soaking my clothes. My thigh still aches, but the wound is already healing itself—Nimu? and Morgan’s magic at work, I assume. “It’s nothing serious,” I say.
A muscle tics in his jaw, a small movement, but it tells me everything. “Good.” But it’s not good at all the way he says it. It’s cutting and cruel, like the edge of his sword. “Would have been a bit embarrassing, letting my wife get hurt.”
I swallow. Venom drips from the word wife , and it hits me harder than I would have expected.
His gaze slides to the vines clinging to the rocks. Calmly, he rips one of them off. My heart races as I start to realize what it’s for.
My heart kicks into gear again. He’s going to tie me up, isn’t he? Then I die. Of course, why wouldn’t he kill me?
His gaze flicks back to me, all ice. There’s no warmth to him anymore, just an unyielding darkness.
“Now, Nia Vaillancourt ,” he says in a low voice. “Who the fuck are you, really?”
My brain does what it always does in moments like this, tries to calculate what he wants so I can give it to him. It sorts through survival strategies. Can I talk my way out of this? Can lies save me? Is it too late to charm him?
Is he going to kill me?
But none of my calculations are adding up, and I feel like my brain is breaking.
So, I do the one thing you should never do with a lethal hunter.
I run.