Chapter 49
CHAPTER 49
I step through the portal to Brocéliande before dawn’s light, half-expecting to be skewered. Even though Mordred said there’d be no guards around the portal, it’s hard to imagine that Talan let it drop.
He said you really know your way through a portal, don’t you? And here I am. Popping back into Brocéliande, an enemy of the kingdom.
But there are no guards waiting for me, only courtyard shadows and jagged rocks. Lights twinkle from the castle’s seven towers and the crisscrossing bridges between them. My heart clenches. Is Talan in one of those towers right now?
The double moons cast rosy-silver light over the night bramble that clings to the portal stones and the fortress walls. A steady drizzle dampens my cloak, and it smells of damp soil around me. I pull my hood up to keep my head dry.
The smart thing would be to make a beeline for the Messenger Gate. It’s the least guarded, and I’d probably be able to leave through it and make my way toward The Shadowed Thicket. I could try to track Brados from there.
But I find myself hesitating. The virus is an imminent danger to all Fey. Even if I inform the resistance, they can’t protect the entire populace of Brocéliande.
What if Talan could do something…
Obviously, I can’t meet him. That would be suicide, but I could send him a message. Who could I trust to pass it on?
Aisling. I trust her. She’s probably around the kitchens at this hour. I can give her the message to deliver to Talan.
I creep through the courtyard, watching out for patrols and keeping my distance as I skulk through the shadows. As I pass the central tower, my gaze flicks over the symbols carved into the stone—the raven and moon symbol of Queen Morgan. Silently, I sneak past the fountain with the stone ravens and make my way to the kitchen entrance.
Peering around the corner, I see an armed soldier guarding the door. No surprise. Security measures were tightened after the assassination attempt.
I tug at my powers, prepared to mind control him. Stomach clenched, I walk closer, ready for a fight, my fingers twitching on the hilt of my dagger.
I hope I don’t need to kill him.
But to my astonishment, his expression brightens as draw near. He leaves his sword sheathed and smiles. He actually grins at me .
“It’s good to have you back with us, Princess,” he says, bowing.
I stare at him, stunned. “Right. I am, like you said…back. Um. As you were, soldier.”
My heart races. What’s going on? Is this some sort of trap? As I walk past him, I brush the back of my hand against his arm, tugging at my telepathy powers, and plunge into his mind.
His name is Donal, and his shift is nearly at an end. He can’t wait for it to be over so he can go back to the book he was reading, a thrilling story about a Fey guard tracking a demi-Fey murderer.
He doesn’t know what to make of the princess’s sudden appearance. Like the rest of the palace staff, he’d heard endless rumors. Some say Tarasque ate her. One guard by Talan’s tree insisted that she overpowered them and disappeared into thin air, but the other guards denied it. Donal wasn’t sure what was true. It would, after all, be utterly humiliating and career-ending for four trained soldiers to be overpowered by a diminutive princess. And disappearing into thin air…that didn’t make sense.
Another rumor is the Dream Stalker is keeping her safe from Auberon. But Donal thinks Talan probably got bored of his bride. The prince has fucked every beautiful woman in the kingdom, and everyone knows he is easily bored. It’s why he tortures people so much. He probably killed her and buried the body. He’s probably already moved on to a new lover.
But now, here she is, healthy as a lamb.
Of course, some of the rumors are absurd—that the princess was, in fact, a dream the prince conjured into reality. That she disappeared when everyone woke up. And the ridiculous story that she turned out to be a demi-Fey spy working for humans, that she killed a countess and travels in and out through portals. Absurd.
But when it comes down to it, how can anyone know the truth about royals?
The only thing he knows for sure is that she wasn’t killed, because she’s standing here.
But as for the other stories—only Talan knows the truth.
And Talan isn’t breathing a word to anyone.
I pull away from his thoughts, the throbbing headache already pounding in my skull. I don’t know what to make of any of this. I’d assumed there’d be a target on my back and everyone in the kingdom would know I was a spy working for the enemy.
And yet, even the soldiers I’d attacked had kept it a secret.
Why would Talan risk the security of his kingdom like that?
Well, Donal is right about one thing. Only the prince knows what’s going on.
My breath quickens. Maybe I should ask him.
Of course, it’s an unhinged idea.
I’m here to find Brados and the resistance. I’m not here for Talan. The last time I saw him, we beat the shit out of each other. He told me, quite clearly, that the next time he saw me would be on a battlefield. We are enemies now.
So why, exactly, am I bringing the battle to him?
Sending a message with Aisling is the best plan.
But Donal’s thoughts have lit a fire in my mind, because why is Talan not protecting the kingdom against me, knowing that I could come back? Knowing that I can easily find my way in and out of a portal?
Maybe he wanted me to come back. A ridiculous thing to hope for, but a spark of light flickers in my chest, an ember of hope.
I find myself climbing the silent stairwells in search of him. I don’t have a home in Camelot. I’ll never go back to America. There’s nothing for me except Brocéliande and Talan. And if Wrythe gets his way, everyone in this kingdom will be dead.
At the very least, I will warn Talan about the virus in person.
Hopefully, I won’t end up in a tower dungeon.
The palace is quiet as a grave this time of night, long before the courtiers awake but after they fall asleep. Silently, I stalk through the halls. I can’t go to Talan’s bedroom, because that was destroyed. I’ve got the veil up in my mind, and I can’t sense him within the castle. I have no idea if he’s even here, but if he were here, he might be in his library sanctuary, where I used to sleep.
I cross a bridge outside, one that connects the towers, and the cold wind races over me. I prowl into the next stone corridor, following the byzantine twists and turns of the castle.
As I’m about to make another turn, a hand clamps around my throat from behind, dominating, commanding. He jerks me back and holds me firm against his pure, unyielding muscle.
I breathe in Talan’s scent, my heart pounding. Heat radiates from his body. I should be frightened, but gods , he’s delicious.
He spins me around and presses me against the wall, the impact ringing through my body.