Chapter 32
Ibreathe in the earthy, fruited air as I step into the tower carved with glowing triple spirals. I can feel the power of this place buzzing over my skin. As I enter, the air grows colder.
I take a few steps down into a room that looks like a temple, with sharply peaked gothic windows.
There’s no glass in them, and a cool wind sweeps inside, raising goose bumps on my skin.
With the portal key around my wrist, I take a step closer to a dusty, circular altar in the center of the room.
Carved into the stone are images of three women.
The moment I touch the altar, its magic surges into my fingertips, flowing up my arms and into my chest. Light blinds me, and I feel as if I’m falling through space for a moment.
It’s the strange sensation I get sometimes when I’m drifting off to sleep, and it feels as if the world has been pulled out from under me.
I land on the cobbles outside the Aether Tower and struggle to regain my balance. My gaze flicks up to the stars and Brocéliande’s two moons as I orient myself.
I take the portal key off my wrist and slip it into the pocket of my leather trousers, blocking out the screaming pain in my arm.
A footfall behind me makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and a chill slides through my veins.
Already, I’m gripping the dagger.
“I didn’t expect it to be you,” a voice says from behind me.
As I turn, I hide the dagger behind my back. Lord Cador is standing by the base of the Aether Tower, the torchlight gleaming off his burgundy hair.
My mind spins through a million calculations as Auberon’s cold conditioning takes over. Once his poisonous seeds take root, the weeds he planted never stop growing.
“Didn’t expect what to be me?” I ask quietly.
His eyes narrow. “The cugol just told me someone escaped the castle, but they didn’t yet know who it was.
I thought it might be Mabon, drunk again.
What I didn’t expect was to find you ripping open a portal into our fortress.
And how, exactly, did you have the power to do that?
You don’t possess portal magic. So, my question is—who are you working with? ”
I’m focusing on one thing—and that’s the fact that no one else knows it was me yet. I take a step closer to Cador, making my eyes go wide, and inhale the scent of the linseed oil he uses in his hair.
I can feign ignorance, I suppose. At least to buy myself time. “I don’t understand? I was asleep—”
He slashes his hand through the air, and a sharp gash opens up on my bicep, then rips through the bottom of my shirt. Pain tears across my skin, and for a few moments, I can hardly think clearly. When some of the initial shock subsides, I realize the gashes didn’t go deep.
For a moment, I stand stunned and try to catch my breath, my arm throbbing painfully from the bullet wound.
Your sluggishness is giving him the upper hand, Auberon says in my thoughts. Act now.
I lunge forward and press my dagger against his jugular. “It will only take a moment to end your life, Lord Cador,” I hiss. “So, you’d better listen very carefully to my instructions.”
The first thing I need to do is get him inside. I’d like to interrogate him at least a little, and this isn’t the place for it. If anyone looks out their window, I’m fucked.
He nods, nearly imperceptibly, his face pale.
“Open the door to your left,” I whisper. “And we’re going to go inside. Together. We’re going to have a conversation at the base of the stairwell.”
Trembling slightly, he does as instructed, and the oak door creaks open. I keep my blade pressed against his throat, nicking his skin as we shift into the torchlight stairwell.
“Let’s start with the grail,” I say. “How do I get it? Is it a trial?”
“The next one.” His throat bobs. “But you won’t win it. You will die here, a traitor. And then we will find the rest of your family and kill them as a message to the others. Even if we have to break into the Waste Land to do it.”
My jaw clenches. The thing about Cador’s magic is that he could actually use it to learn my real identity. Then he really could hunt down Vero.
“You’re not getting near my family,” I snarl.
“I will peel off your skin, and then your family’s—”
As an image of Vero flashes in my mind, I press the blade in deeper, drawing blood. He winces.
“Do not play with me.” Darkness swirls inside my skull. “How do I win the trial?”
He whimpers, and I can see that he’s already about to break. He may be a torturer himself, but the man doesn’t have any pain tolerance when it comes to his own skin.
“It begins in about thirty hours,” he blurts. “It’s a race, and many of you will die. You must not go into the valley. The questing beast’s howl is a thing you will never forget.”
This isn’t making any sense yet. “But how do I win?”
“Survive your competitors trying to kill you. Then, if you make it to the bridge of swords, you’ll cross a long blade over a pit of flames.”
“And is there a trick to it?”
Now, his cheeks are reddening, his temper rising. He’s growing braver. “The trick is being brave, clever, and strong, so you don’t have a chance.”
“I’ve got this far.”
His lip curls. “The gods will never accept you. The flames will claim you and burn you alive.”
“You don’t have the first fucking clue what the gods think.” I’m running out of time. “Do you know anything about the Order of the Green Knight?”
His lips press into a thin line. He’s not denying it, but he’s not saying anything either. I press the blade in a little deeper, and he screams, a loud, panicked sound. And that, in turn, makes me nervous, because he’s going to draw someone here.
He flicks his wrist again, ripping open the skin on my hand. A jagged, searing pain tears my palm, and I drop the dagger, clutching my bleeding hand.
“Now, traitor, I have questions for you.” His eyes flash. “Who helped you make that portal?”
Shaking, cradling my injured hand, I take a slow step closer to him. My gaze flicks to the wavering torch by his head.
With my left hand, I smash his head into it, and the oil in his hair ignites, turning his head into a second torch.
He shouts, smacking at the flames in his hair to douse them, and I use the opportunity to grab my dagger again.
I bring it up into his chest and plunge the blade between his ribs. His eyes snap open. I think I’ve hit his heart, but he’s still breathing. A trickle of blood drips from his lip. His eyes are unfocused, staring at the wall behind me.
“What do you know about the Green Knight?” I ask.
The scent of blood and burnt hair fills the stairwell.
But what reason does he have to answer me now? We both knew the moment we came in here that only one of us would be leaving this tower alive.
His eyes focus again, and they slide to me. “Our next king will find the person who killed me. Then he will execute you, and everyone you love, in ways more brutal than you can imagine.”
Not if I’m the next monarch.
I grit my teeth and twist the blade in his chest. Blood pours from him, and he lets out one final, rasping breath—a rattle in his throat. Then the light leaves his eyes, and I pull out my dagger, letting him slump down the wall.
Now, my hands are trembling, and my eyes sting. I can’t stop thinking about how he threatened to peel Vero’s skin off.
And once again, I’ve got a corpse on my hands.
There’s blood everywhere, mine and Cador’s. I don’t imagine I’ll be able to clean it all up, but maybe I can get some of it washed away.
I go still, listening for the sound of footfalls or any type of movement. When I don’t hear anything, I turn to look at the door marked with the white rose.
I pull it open, and I’m hit by the scent of bones and soil. At the bottom of the short stairwell are the skulls of two princes murdered long ago. I drag Lord Cador’s lifeless body over to the open doorway and shove him down the steps.
I cock my head, staring as his corpse rolls down. Cador lands with a thump at the bottom, stopping by the two skulls.
I close the door to the stairwell and lean against it. Blood covers my body.
As I catch my breath, the tower door opens.
Rion steps inside, his silver eyes burning into me.
In the next moment, my blade is pressed against his throat, and I’m starting to wonder how many bodies I’ll collect by the end of the night.