Chapter 56
CHAPTER 56
“ N ia.”
My eyes flutter open, and I wake to find myself slumped in a soft, velvety chair. I spent a day and a night taking care of Talan, cooling his fever, applying the balm. Finally, I must have nodded off in exhaustion.
Now, I’m waking to the sound of his deep, velvet-tinged voice calling my name.
He’s sitting on the side of the bed, shirtless and watching me. And right now, he looks like absolute perfection.
I smile at him. “How do you feel?”
“Like someone cut me in half, but also much better than before.” He picks up a glass of water from the bedside table and drains it.
My gaze sweeps down his bare chest. The skin is now healed over, the only sign of his grisly injury a deep red slash over his abs. Pure, unbridled relief cascades through me. He’s recovering.
He really will be okay.
He sets the glass of water down and frowns at me. “Where are we? I had the most insane dream that you said we were in Avalon.”
I smile. “We are. In Mordred’s castle.”
“And he’s alive. All this time.” He stares. “The dark prince who cursed my mother.”
Mordred strides into the room, eyes locked on him. “King, now, in fact. And I’m not the one who condemned your mother to death by burning. That was your rotten father, the two of you claiming a royal lineage that was always mine .”
I clear my throat. “Remember that we’re allies. We all want to dethrone Auberon.”
Talan turns slowly, watching my father. Around strangers, he gives nothing away. Whatever he’s feeling, it’s buried deeply. His expression is guarded as he meets Mordred’s gaze, cool, level, and assessing.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” asks Talan. “You’re not my grandfather, not Auberon’s father. It was all a lie.”
Mordred shrugs. “Is it so hard to believe?”
“Not at all. Lying comes as naturally to him as breathing.”
Mordred takes a step closer. “You’re Merlin’s grandson. Merlin and Nimu?, who made that balm that saved you. Wondrous woman. Absolutely lovely. Wise. Your grandfather was a pompous prick, though. He’s trapped in the heart of an oak, you know. That was your grandmother’s doing. I just said to her the other day…” He trails off. “Well, it was a few centuries ago, but I said, you do not want to feel the sting of Nimu?’s wrath. You know, I believe Merlin is still conscious in that oak. Which he deserves.”
I clear my throat. “Plenty of time for family drama later. We have to stop the dragon attack. We’ve got a day, maybe less, before Auberon tries to burn down Bristol and gods know what else.”
Mordred straightens his crown. “Yes, yes. I’ve been watching Castle Perillos for a while. So, what are we going to do about it?”
Talan pulls on a black shirt. “I don’t think Auberon will launch the attack without me.”
Mordred shakes his head. “My little spy moth tells me otherwise. He plans to send the dragons tomorrow whether you are there or not.”
Talan curses under his breath.
My heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?”
“I heard him give the orders myself,” Mordred says. “I see and hear every order that Auberon gives at Castle Perillos.”
Talan goes eerily still. “And does he know what my plans are?”
“He’s angry that you’re not there when he wants you. He might have disowned you. But no, I don’t believe he has any idea how much you hate him.”
Talan’s eyes narrow. “Good. That will make my job easier.”
Mordred claps his hands together. “But we have another pressing issue right now, I’m afraid.”
I can hardly keep up. “What?”
“There is a boat approaching,” Mordred says, clasping his hands behind his back. “With a few of your friends.”
I run out of the castle and rush down the old stone stairs. I race past Tarasque, who rests peacefully beneath the apple trees, her wing already healing.
By the time I get to the shore, Tana and Nivene’s little rowboat is already scraping over the rocks.
A lump rises in my throat, and I run across the wet stones to greet them.
As she steps onto the rocks, I grab Tana, and she hugs me back tightly.
“Thank the gods you’re alive.” Nivene gives me a clumsy hug involving an awkward and aggressive pat on my back. “I thought that dragon would bleed out and crash into the lake.”
“Tarasque is much tougher than she looks.”
Tana stares at the dragon. “Honestly, she looks plenty tough.”
“Where’s Darius?” I ask. “And Raphael?”
“They’re fine.” Tana grips my bicep, giving it a squeeze. “They’re trying to regain control of Avalon Tower. Almost all the Pendragons are dead, but it’s still chaos. There are still some Iron League cells within the towers. Two of them tried to assassinate Raphael early this morning.”
My heart flutters.
“And now they’re crow food,” Nivene says.
I nod. “So, right now, Raphael is in command?”
“Until Amon figures out the right protocol to appoint a new commander in Avalon Tower.”
My two friends look over my shoulder, suddenly intrigued, and I turn to see Mordred marching regally down the old stone steps.
“Oh, fucking shit,” Nivene blurts. “Mordred. Fuck. How old are you? You must be old as the rocks.”
“Is there something wrong with your friend?” Mordred asks.
Nivene clears her throat. “Sorry. It’s just…you really do look like the portrait in Avalon Tower. It’s a bit jarring. There’s a lot of them, really, and you’re murdering people in all of them.”
“How nice.” Mordred nods, folding his hands behind his back again. “I assume the painter captured my essence quite well.”
Tana flashes him a shy smile. “I’ve seen you in the cards many times, Sir Mordred.”
He nods slowly at her as if he can’t quite figure out what to make of that statement. “I’m a bit out of practice with this, you know. Chitchat.”
“Never got the hang of it myself,” Nivene says. “Anyway, with the death of the Pendragons?—”
“Wait.” Mordred holds up a hand. “Are they all truly dead?”
“Well, yeah, I guess,” Nivene says. “Most are gone. Dead, and?—”
“How many are dead?” Mordred’s golden eyes burn with a slightly fanatical gleam. “There are a total of one hundred three Pendragons, not including the bastards and the descendants of women who married out of their dynasty. Are they all dead?”
Nivene wrinkles her nose. “I mean…I didn’t count.”
Mordred takes a step closer. “And what did you do with the bodies? I assume you severed their limbs and hung them from the parapets? Nailed their heads on the gates and doors throughout Camelot as a warning to those who would strike at the Fey?”
“I really apologize for him,” I say. “He’s not used to company.”
“We didn’t do much with the limbs,” Nivene says weakly. “I think it’s a bit out of fashion these days. I’m pretty sure that’s a war crime.”
“A war crime .” Mordred rolls the words over his tongue, testing them out. Then his attention seems to drift. “Pendragons. One hundred three. Each and every one should die. The prophecy foretells it.”
“Do you really need me to compile a list of dead Pendragons?” I ask, exasperated.
He smiles at me. “Yes, daughter, that would be lovely. Thank you.”
My stomach tightens. “We’ll get to that later. Right now, we have to stop Auberon.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Nivene interjects. “Like I said, with the fall of the Pendragons, most of our communication with the human allies ended. We’re trying to get in touch with the army commanders, but it’s taking too long, and they’re used to reporting to Wrythe.”
A dark thought takes root in my mind. “Whether Auberon knows it or not, this is his best chance to attack. We’ve never been weaker or more defenseless.”
“I saw it,” Tana says, her voice haunted. “A great army from above. Death from the skies.”
Nivene pales. “With Avalon Tower in shambles, we’re helpless. I’d hoped maybe Talan could stall his father.”
Talan strides down the winding path, radiating health. He slides his hands into his pockets as he stalks closer. The breeze toys with his dark hair. “We can do better than a distraction. We can snuff the usurper’s light entirely. Come with me to Brocéliande, and we will set all our plans in motion. All those dreams, all those minds you held in your thrall. The moment has arrived, and the stage is set. Let’s finish what we started.”