Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

I run across the fortress's courtyard, my feet flying over the snowy grass and my heart in my throat. I can't believe that I'm alive, that I'm out of his sight. I can still see Cadoc's tormented face in my mind as Talan's magic overpowered him and hear Talan's cold, distant voice murmuring, He's dreaming of pain .

I don't slow as I near the portal, the misshapen rocks jutting from the earth. As I sprint closer, I summon my magic. Energy crackles down my arms and fingers, and I send tendrils of my Sentinel power ahead of me. Just as I reach the rocks, they shimmer, and a dark portal yawns open between them. I fling myself into it, falling through the air.

Pain jolts through my limbs as I land hard on my hands and knees. I glance up to see Avalon's dolmens all around me. I'm back in Mordred's home again. Here, the air smells rich and musky, like rain-soaked moss. The moon bathes the standing stones in haunting light. Silver light. I never thought I'd love simple, pale moonlight so much.

I cough, gasping for breath. I'm wheezing hard, my asthma returning with a vengeance. I pull out my inhaler, puffing twice, drawing the albuterol into my lungs. Coughs rack my body as I breathe out.

"Well," Mordred's low voice says behind me, "that was exciting. Sorry about your sweetling breaking your heart after all you went through to save him."

I'm still coughing. My skull is throbbing, a dizzying headache building.

Mordred circles around me and kneels, staring intently at my face. "I told you to avoid the Dream Stalker, and what do you do? You agree to be his lover instead. Just a few minutes after Raphael ended things, you've already seduced a prince. Impressive, in a way."

"Is that what you think seduction looks like? You really have been alone a long time." Apparently, the silver moth worked. Mordred was able to see and hear everything that happened to me.

"Well, by choice or not, you've fallen into a unique opportunity."

The cold earth nips at my hands, freezing my fingers. Once I've caught my breath, I push myself up. "A unique opportunity to pretend to be a glorified whore of a murderous tyrant? I'll pass."

"No, I don't think you will." He straightens. "What are you pouting about, wench? I thought you wanted to take down their wretched empire. What better way to do it than getting close to the prince? You share his bed, and you learn every one of their secrets. It's a golden opportunity."

Slowly, I stand. "The man just threatened to torture me, and you think I should run back into his arms? You're failing at parenting so far." Though frankly, he's not necessarily my worst parent.

"You're a spy, aren't you?" he hisses. "I thought spies were good at spotting assets. You're in a position to use Auberon's own son against him. And anyway, I didn't see him actually hurt you."

Not with his hands, I suppose. "His magic hurt when he severed my control over that guard. Now I can't use my telepathy. It causes too much pain."

He shrugs. "Those who play with fire often get hurt. You might find that extremely painful from now on, but it will still work. And anyway, any granddaughter of Queen Morgan doesn't shrink from a little pain."

"Look, Auberon's son wants to destroy humanity. He wants to kill the demi-Fey, too. You know, demi-Fey like me?"

"So, don't go along with his plan. Use him, manipulate him, and when the time comes, kill him. You're in a position to stop him."

Mordred's suggestion is so unnervingly similar to Darius's words from earlier that a shiver runs along my spine. "Use him, manipulate him, and kill him. Are you speaking from experience?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. It's what I did with my first wife, Cwyllog, a human from Camelot."

Terrific. I'm surrounded by psychopaths. I rub my temples. "I barely kept him out of my mind. The first time I fall asleep near him, he'll tromp through my dreams and learn everything about me."

The moonlight illuminates half of Mordred's face, sparking in his eyes. "You can protect yourself from that. Summon a veil in your mind, like I already taught you. Do it before you go to sleep, when you wake, and whenever you feel the Dream Stalker near. In time, you'll gain more control over it. You just need to practice. And of course, your magic will only grow stronger in the Fey realm."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

He looks at me in surprise. "Well, I thought it was obvious. According to the prophecies, you're the Lady of the Lake."

"So?"

"Magic begets magic. If you spend a long time in a magical domain surrounded by Fey, your magic will grow. Your powers as a Sentinel, as a telepath, and as the Lady of the Lake will increase."

I shake my head. "I'm not doing that. We have an agreement: you help me get Raphael out. And I need you to find out where Raphael's sister is, because he's refusing to leave without her. That part of the bargain isn't completed. He needs to get out of Brocéliande. I'm assuming the silver moth works?"

He tilts his head slightly into the shadows, and for a few seconds says nothing. A golden speck flickers in his eye, looking almost like a moth taking flight. "Auberon is in his library, talking to one of his generals about an upcoming assault. In the kitchen, the staff is cleaning up after tonight's banquet, and a maid just hid an unfinished loaf of bread in her bag, probably taking it home. The guards are patrolling the walls of the fortress, though the one in the eastern tower is nodding off. The moth works. I have eyes and ears throughout Auberon's fortress. We will get your sweetling out."

"Can you also find out what Auberon's plans are?"

"Eventually, but it'll take time. It would be much faster if you'd just seduce the prince."

"No."

The branches cast sharp, claw-like shadows that rake a ghostly dance over the planes of his face. "Have it your way."

Exhaustion washes over me. What time is it, anyway? I desperately want to be back in bed. "I have to get back. I need you to remove the glamor before I go."

He shrugs and brushes his fingertip over my ears, and I feel his magic buzz and tingle over my skin, my eyes stinging. "There. Now you look human again." There's more than a faint note of disdain in the word.

I nod. "I'll return tomorrow."

He smiles at me. "Will you? How considerate. But haven't you forgotten something?"

I fold my arms. "What?"

"Your part of the deal."

I shake my head. "I'll help you take down Avalon Tower once Raphael's sister is located and we get them both back here."

He narrows his eyes. "I'm aware that humans become frail and stupid as they age. I assure you, it's not the same with Fey. I may be over two thousand years old, but I'm not an idiot, Nia."

"Our deal was?—"

"Our deal was that we work together. I get your man out; you help me take down Avalon Tower. And I have your first errand." He retrieves something from his robe. Another silver moth. "You planted one in Auberon's fortress. Now do the same in Avalon Tower. I need eyes and ears there, too."

My stomach clenches. "I'll do that after Raphael is here."

"You'll do it today, or you'll never find your way back to this island. I'll make it disappear. Brocéliande will be out of your grasp, and the man you claim to love will linger there forever. He'll likely be captured again, returned to their dungeons. Executed. I know he just broke your heart, but you're not going to let him die , are you?"

My heart slams. I can do it. Plant the moth, then tell Viviane about it so that she can take measures of precaution against it. It's a dangerous game, but the alternative isn't great, either.

This isn't just about Raphael. Maybe he can even free his sister and find a way to survive there in hiding. But the prize I can't give up is the portal. I can't relinquish access to Brocéliande.

But there's one little problem—I have only Mordred's word about what the moth does. How do I know it's not a weapon as well as a magical wiretap?

"I don't even really know what this moth is." I narrow my eyes. "It could be a bomb that kills us all."

His smile deepens. "Ah, good. You are intelligent. I was beginning to wonder if you were my daughter after all. Of course, you're right. All you know is what I told you, and I could be lying through my teeth. I've been known to lie once or twice."

"So, you understand why I won't do it, then? I mean, you literally just told me you married your first wife to learn her secrets and then murdered her, so I guess I'm not getting a trustworthy vibe."

"It was for the greater good of the Fey. Anyway, you'll do it. You just need some assurances." As he unsheathes a long dagger, the wind whips over us, toying with his black cloak. His blade glints in the moonlight.

My breath stills in my lungs.

"Do you know what a Hemlock Oath is?" he asks.

Vaguely, I remember that term from my studies as a cadet in Avalon Tower. "It's a dark magic ceremony, practiced by Fey. The oath-takers bind their lives to a promise, and if the promise is broken, they die a horrible death, as if poisoned by hemlock."

"You're right, essentially, but I don't know why you call it dark magic. I'd call it useful magic. Humans made up something much worse, didn't they?"

"What are you talking about?"

"They have binding covenants written on parchment, the language complex and tedious. An elaborate, arcane process navigated by advocates and proctors in the inns of court."

I stare at him. "Are you talking about lawyers? Contracts?"

"And when the covenant is broken," he goes on, "the proctors battle each other, sometimes for years, while their pockets and purses fill with gold, until finally, the winner is chosen by a be-wigged magistrate in a robe. Now, that's a strange and dark practice."

"Point taken."

He rolls up his sleeve. "We Fey are more pragmatic. We make an oath bound by blood. We write nothing down because the terms are simple and incontrovertible. If anyone breaks the oath, he dies. No need for the inns of court. Now, you and I will perform the oath, whereby I swear that the moth only serves as my ears and eyes and cannot kill anyone directly. And then you promise to place it in Avalon Tower. If one of us fails, we die, writhing in pain. Simple. Yes?"

I don't truly have many options. I need Mordred's portal, but I need to make sure we protect ourselves against his spying.

"Fine," I finally say. "How does this work?"

"Usually, there would be a ceremony, sometimes a sacrifice, but it's late, and I can't be bothered. We mix our blood and recite the words of the Hemlock Oath. Then we each make our vows."

He holds out a palm and traces the blade along it. As blood starts to drip from the gash, he hands me the blade, and I place the tip on my palm. Grimacing, I slice quickly, not letting the lacerating pain show on my face. I clench my fist.

Mordred seems satisfied with my stoicism, like this is another test that I just passed. He holds out his bleeding hand, and I grip it with mine. Our blood mingles, dripping on the cold earth.

"Repeat after me," he says. "In hemlock's kiss, our fates entwine. In blood-signed bonds, oaths enshrined. Break the seal, and death is thine."

As the wind howls over us, whipping at my hair, I repeat the words. With the words spoken, heat burns through my palm. I grit my teeth as magical energies buzz through my open wound, crackling along my veins.

"I, Mordred, Scion of Morgan, King of Avalon, swear that the silver moth that I gave you will be used only to listen and watch. It will be my eyes and ears in Avalon Tower and will do nothing else." He raises his eyebrows at me. "Now you."

"I, Nia Melisandre, swear to place the silver moth in Avalon Tower."

He squeezes my hand, his expression darkening. "You will place it there tonight , where it can't be found. And you will leave it there for as long as I need."

"Fine," I grit out. "I will place it today where it can't be found and won't remove it for as long as you need."

"And you will remain silent about it, tell no one about the moth or of my existence."

Fuck. My heart thunders. "That's not what I agreed to."

"Of course it's part of the agreement."

"And will you also swear as part of your oath not to hurt anyone at Avalon Tower who isn't a Pendragon?" He has me cornered, and he knows it, but I'm going to get as much out of this bargain as I can.

"It's not as though I can leave here, Nia. I couldn't kill them even if I wanted to."

"Swear that you don't want to anyway."

"Fine. I can swear an oath that I, Mordred, Scion of Morgan, King of Avalon, have no targets for vengeance other than the Pendragons. Happy?"

I swallow hard. "And I will not tell anyone about you or about the moth's existence."

He releases my hand. Blood drips to the ground, and smoke rises from the spatters. When I look at my palm, the cut has already closed. All that remains is an angry red line across my palm.

"So." He hands me a new silver moth. "Now that we trust each other."

I take the moth from him and shove it into my pocket.

I wouldn't trust this man to do my laundry, and I suspect the feeling is mutual.

But no matter how we feel, our fates are threaded together.