Chapter 16

At Bael’s side, she stepped into a dim interior, and Bael called forth a glowing orb to light their way. It cast a dull, amber light over a rocky alcove that led straight into a twisting rock stairwell. Bael pulled his sword from its sheath as he moved up the stairs, and he directed the orb to float just above them. Quickly, their steps fell into a rhythm, her shoulder sometimes brushing against Bael’s warm skin, as they wound round and round. As they climbed higher, her lungs burned and her thighs felt like Emerazel had set them on fire, but Bael hadn’t broken a sweat.

By her side, Bael climbed like a god—graceful and smooth. Slow, even breaths. Dark shadows moved around him. Even without his magic, he exuded pure power. Truly, if either of them were the Darkling, it was him.

As they walked, the stone around the stairwell lightened to a pale cream color. Ursula’s tongue was dry against the roof of her mouth, and the dip in the icy mountain stream seemed like something from a past life. Speaking of which, it seemed like nearly a lifetime since she’d eaten. In fact, she hadn’t eaten since Merlin’s. She tried not to think about it, but her mind wandered straight to the rabbit stew he’d served her. The rich flavors had melted in her mouth, a dish Kester would spend fifty dollars on at one of those fancy farm-to-table restaurants in New York.

Thinking of the stew, her stomach rumbled loudly. Gah, what I wouldn’t do for a proper meal.

Bael stopped sharply and turned to look at her. “You’re hungry.”

She gripped her stomach. “Yeah. I didn’t get to eat yet today.”

A line appeared between his eyebrows. “When we leave here, we’re getting you food. You need to eat.”

“No arguments here.”

Bael turned his head, putting his finger to his lips. After a moment, he whispered, “We’re near the top.”

Faint light shone in the stairwell. Up here, the air smelled different—faintly of smoke and charred wood. “We’ve reached the top.”

Bael moved forward slowly, holding his sword ready. They rounded the final turn of the staircase and stepped out onto the top of the cliff.

A cold wind kissed her damp skin, and Ursula shivered. A whirling mist surrounded them, and the wind whistled faintly in their ears. Around them were the dark outlines of stone buildings, their surfaces covered in lichen and moss. Maybe it was the mist, but somehow the buildings’ outlines looked indistinct, like they’d been plucked from an impressionist painting. Ursula studied the closest one. Broken windows interrupted the pale stone, and rotting wood formed the roof.

“What is this place?” she asked

“I’m not sure.” Bael’s feet crunched over a gravel path that wound into the mist. “Come with me.”

Ursula followed close behind him. Unlike Bael, she didn’t have a weapon, so she kept alert for any signs of movement in case she had to run.

As they walked further, a conical shape became clearer though the mist, close to the path’s edge. Ursula frowned at it, taking in the irregular shapes—a pile of stone rocks. “There’s a cairn. We’re going the right way.”

Their footsteps crunched over the gravel as they moved further along the path, until another building came into view, this one in better condition than the others. Built of pale stone and with towering spires, it looked like a cathedral.

Ursula stared at it, her skin growing cold in the misty mountain air. “What is that?”

Bael paused, studying it through the fog. “I think I know where we are. This is Camelot.”

Shivering, Ursula crossed her arms. “I didn’t realize Camelot and Avalon were so closely connected. I thought Camelot was somewhere on the mainland, in Cornwall or something.”

“It was, but when Arthur left, the kingdom disappeared. And apparently, this is where it went.”

“And it’s been in ruins ever since?”

“So it seems.”

Ursula looked up again at the ancient church, its pale stone crumbling. Is this what will come of New York one day?

As Ursula stepped closer the building, it became clear that calling it a cathedral had been generous. One of its steeples had crumbled entirely, and the other looked like it might collapse at any moment. An ancient iron fence surrounded the small yard in front. In its center stood the remains of an elm, half decayed. Bael paused, his gaze fixed on the trunk. She followed his line of vision to the trunk’s base, where two stones lay, carved with ancient-looking words. Ursula strained her eyes, trying to read them, surprised to find they’d been engraved not with Angelic, but in Latin.

A shiver licked up her spine. “Rex Arthurus. Regina Gwenevere. The graves of King Arthur and Guinevere.”

“Arthur was a great man.” Bael looked serious, almost solemn.

“You knew him?”

“Only by reputation. Nyxobas tried to bring him onto the council, but he refused.” Bael paused, the shadows around him thickening in the air, staining the mist with black. “Never refuse the demands of a god. It tends to end badly.”

She had a feeling he was talking about himself, but he wouldn’t be ready to explain. “It ended badly for Arthur, I suppose?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Could have been worse.” He turned, starting down the path again. Suddenly, the air had iced.

Ursula followed “So—what, Nyxobas invited Arthur to join him on the Council, Arthur refused, and Nyxobas killed him?”

“It serves no one to speak ill of the dead.” There was a note of tension in Bael’s voice. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, lengthening his stride, until a towering wall became visible through the mist, looming above them. Made of dark stone, it stretched into the fog in either direction. Inset into the wall was a tall door of dark granite, above it more Angelic text: A Knight is Honorable.

Bael was already striding up to the door. When he pushed on it, it swung open with a groan. He turned, fixing Ursula with his pale eyes. “The second trial is through here.”