Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

O ur boat floats through Avalon's lake, cool mist wrapping around us. We're disguised as messengers tonight and armed to the teeth with bows, swords, and leather satchels of supplies.

I've been practicing nonstop with the veil in my mind, strengthening it.

What I'm not prepared for is what might happen if Mordred pops out of his palace. Surprise! I'm Nia's evil partner.

As Nivene and I pull our small boat onto the island's shore, I'm terrified he'll jump out to criticize the job Serana did on my glamour, although to my eye, it looks nearly identical to his work.

We step onto the shore, and I adjust my quiver of arrows.

As we climb the winding path toward the castle, the island looks deserted. A few snowflakes drift through the air, twinkling in the moonlight. Right now, the only sound around us is the gentle lapping of the lake's waves on the rocks and the rush of the wind through ruined castle walls.

I hope that Mordred knows enough to hide tonight.

"This is incredible." Nivene looks up at the castle towering above us. "Imagine the magic forces that hid this island for so long. We all thought it sank into the lake with Shalott."

"Still very much here." I glance at the dark arch where Mordred appeared last time. Nothing yet.

I suppose, with his little spy devices, he knew that I was about to show up with Nivene. But Mordred is still a mystery to me, and I have no idea what he'll decide to do.

Nivene follows behind me, and I glance back at her before I cross into the castle. Her hair glows with a purplish sheen under the moonlight. "Did you explore the castle?" Nivene asks.

"Not too much," I say cautiously. "It's not in a great shape."

"Still, it's worth checking out?—"

"Yes, but not tonight. We don't have time."

"Right." Nivene sighs. "My sister Alix would have loved seeing this."

I lead her through the castle doors, into the hall with the banquet table set for a party centuries ago that never took place. Nivene is marveling at it, wondering what it's doing there.

My muscles tense at every sound, and my breath catches with every movement out of the corner of my eye. Fortunately, Mordred is still nowhere to be seen. When we reach the double doors at the end of the hall, I push them open, and we cross into the courtyard, where the ley stones wait for us.

"I can feel their magic," Nivene whispers by my side.

I've known Nivene for a while, but we've never gone on a mission together. It's truly a sign of Viviane's desperation that she's sending MI-13's only two Sentinels together.

As we get closer, I feel Nivene's power mingling with my own and reverberating around the towering rocks.

"Do you feel that?" I ask. "Not just the ley portal, but our powers combining?"

She smiles, and I realize I've hardly ever seen her smile before. "Yes. My magic used to twine together with Alix's in the same way."

When I glance at the dolmens, they glow faintly with our red Sentinel magic, like the light of Brocéliande's moon. In the grassy space between them, a dark portal opens, a shadow yawning between the stones. Larger this time.

I stare at the gaping hole.

When we go through that portal, I'll be better prepared. I've read everything in Cadoc's thoughts—the layout of the fortress's grounds, the placement of security details.

"Once we get through, let me take the lead. We take the horses to the eastern wall, and we avoid the soldiers at the main gate. At that gate, they mostly stop people coming in, not going out. That's where Raphael left from."

She nods, smoothing her coat. We're dressed in the sleek black outfits of Fey messengers, tight trousers and a fitted jacket with buttons down the front. "If they try to stop us, can you handle them with your mind control?" she asks.

"Hang on." I close my eyes, tugging at the violet threads of my telepathy. Immediately, pain shoots through my skull, so fierce that I want to vomit. Staggering back, I let my magic sputter and die. Since the Dream Stalker severed my connection to Cadoc, this has happened every time I try to use that power. My primal magic for which I earned the Avalon Steel torc? It's basically hot garbage right now.

I wince. "Maybe if it's life or death, but it feels like my sinuses are going to explode."

"Okay. Well, if anyone gives us trouble, we can slit their throats and then bury the bodies in the cold earth. I do enjoy that sometimes."

Silence stretches between us. "Great. Good times. Are you ready?"

She nods. "Let's get on with it."

I reach out and touch one of the dolmens. Its cold, ancient magic slips into my chest, winding around my ribs, pulling me closer. I stumble forward into the portal. For one heartbeat, I'm in both places at once—two sets of ring stones, mirroring each other. Then I fall hard onto the frozen ground between the jagged stones of Brocéliande, snow stinging my hands. I hear Nivene swearing under her breath from the force of the fall.

Snow whips through the air, and I glance up at the castle in the distance. But as I do, I see a shadow moving toward us and the glint of steel under the night sky. Shit.

"Halt!" his voice booms, echoing off the towering outer walls.

He's running now with his sword drawn. We've just materialized out of nowhere, right in front of a guard.

I scan him as he runs closer. He's tall, even for a Fey, and heavily armored. His coppery hair streams behind him. We can probably still take him, but we can't afford to let him shout for reinforcements.

But as he gets even closer, I realize that I know his name. In fact, I recognize him through Cadoc's memories.

"Riwanon!" I call out, grinning wide. "Imagine meeting you here."

He slows his running, then stops when he's only a few feet away. His forehead crinkles. "Do I know you?"

I wrinkle my nose. "We were together for military training. Don't you remember?" I ask, sounding hurt.

Cadoc hates Riwanon, who often uses his position to harass the women working in the kitchen. And Riwanon loves nothing more than to wax about all the women he shags during training.

"Oh…" He blinks. "Right. You're…uh…"

"Adelaide." I take two steps toward him, tilting my head shyly. Riwanon once told Cadoc that he slept with so many women in the training camps that all their names blended. "Don't you remember our night together? I thought it was memorable."

Slowly, his expression grows more hostile, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. And with a sinking feeling, I realize my mistake. Of course. A man like Riwanon who brags nonstop about his prowess with women is obviously full of shit. He didn't seduce a single woman during training—possibly ever.

And I just blew my cover.

On the other hand, the distraction worked. While I was talking to him, Nivene slipped behind him. I give a nearly imperceptible nod, and she leaps forward to jam her dagger into his neck, her lips curled back with ferocity.

He tries to scream, but with the blade in his throat, it comes out as a gurgle. Somehow, he's still on his feet. Blood spilling from his lips, he swings his sword violently in a wide arc.

I pull the knife from the hidden sheath in my sleeve and dart forward, kicking him hard in his chest, my boot connecting with his ribs. He loses his balance, falling backward over one of the jagged stones that jut from the earth. Incredibly, despite the knife in his neck, he's still alive. Adrenalin crackles through my veins, electrifying me.

Nivene and I are both upon him. I stab him twice in his side as Nivene wrestles his sword away. Everything unfolds in nearly complete silence—just grunts and hisses whispering in the night air. At last, Riwanon's large body slumps motionless on the grass, blood trickling from his lips.

This is a disturbing reminder of how difficult the Fey are to kill.

"Wow." Nivene is breathing hard. "This fucker was tough."

My heart slams hard against my ribs. "There's blood on your face."

She leans down and wipes it off with Riwanon's cloak.

We do our best to clean ourselves of the blood, then hide the body in the dark tangles of the night brambles that climb the walls. They'll find him by tomorrow, but by then, we'll be well out of Corbinelle.

"Come on," I whisper. "This way." A winding stone path leads us along the perimeter of the grounds, and it will take us to the stables. To my right, the pale, sharp-spired towers rise into the air like stone gods.

"This place is fucking huge," she breathes.

When I was here the other night, I didn't go anywhere near the stables. But Cadoc has, and that means I know where they are. It's always bizarre, following someone else's memories as if they're my own. Even long after the connection is severed, my mind is shot through with flashes of feelings that I can't quite place. An apple tree makes me wistful for someone Cadoc misses, and an empty guardhouse near the castle makes me flush with embarrassment.

But I also feel fear, and that comes from me. What if the stables are heavily guarded? What if Talan senses I'm here again and hunts me down, finding me inexplicably dressed as an armed messenger? I focus, strengthening the veil in my mind.

I lead Nivene east, hugging the castle's outermost walls in the shadows. We pass a stone fountain, one where raven-shaped spigots spew water into the wintry air and water burbles in the basin. We walk past a rookery, where a few birds stir, ruffling their feathers.

"The tavern we're heading for should be a safe spot," says Nivene. "The owner of the Shadowed Thicket is anti-monarchy. Or at least he was fifteen years ago. But anything could have changed since then, so we still need to be cautious, yeah? I don't even know if our contact will be there. If he is, let me do the talking. He's going to be cagey."

"Tell me about him again."

She leans in close to me. "His name is Meriadec. He's one of Avalon's sleeper agents in Brocéliande. What do you know about the Scorched Earth Revolution?"

I try to recall what Amon taught us during training. "Two centuries ago, the commoners revolted because of wealth inequality and dwindling food. And it failed."

"Right." Nivene nods. "Interestingly, it happened just a short time after the French Revolution ended. Some scholars believe there's a connection. People were dying in the streets, hardly more than skeletons, eating leaves and moss. And the nobles had six servants each just to serve them their breakfasts. One to pour coffee, one to butter the bread, and so on."

"That's very specific. You almost sound like you were there."

"My mother was."

I should be used to the fact that Fey live for centuries, but it still catches me off guard. "Wow."

"So, the commoners revolted, just as you say. But there was one tiny difference between the French Revolution and the Fey revolution. Unlike Louis XVI, Auberon had dragons."

My stomach flutters. I can't quite imagine the horror of a dragon-scorched landscape.

"Humans weren't the first thing Auberon unleashed his dragons on," she continues. "He started with his own people. Half of Brocéliande burned to death. Auberon blamed the revolutionaries for killing his son, the crown prince Lothyr. He lost his mind. The revolutionaries were left as nothing but ashes, and all the leaders were executed in front of the castle. Ripped limb from limb, their entrails dragged?—"

"I don't need the details."

"Anyway, Meriadec was part of that Scorched Earth Revolution. And probably one of the few who survived. Years ago, we established contact with him, and he worked with us for a time. Whether he still will—well, I suppose we're about to find out."

I point ahead at the large wooden stables. "We're here."

I slip inside, Nivene following close behind. The timber and stone structure is unguarded, dimly lit by oil lamps that cast warm light over the horses in their stalls.

I beeline to Holly, a dark mare that Cadoc loves. She's fast and reliable but isn't one of the royal horses that'll get noticed when we get to the gate. Nivene crosses to another stall, eying a large white horse. "Not that one," I whisper. "It belongs to the prince's cousin. Take the brown one over there. His name is Madog."

She quickly turns and grabs Madog. We saddle both horses, then lead them outside. Once we clear the stable, we leap onto our horses. Holly snorts, maybe realizing that I'm not her usual rider. I pat her neck, then trot her back toward the gate in the eastern wall.

There's an art to going past enemy sentries. You can't avoid their eyes completely, because that looks suspicious, but you can't stare at them like some sort of weirdo, either. Raphael once taught me how to do it. You picture someone you know, but not too well. Like a neighbor you see a few times a week. You imagine that it's him, and that you've just seen him the day before. If you manage to convince yourself, then you give him just the right kind of casual smile. That sort of short recognition of connection between acquaintances who avoid small talk with each other.

I exchange that look with the guard. He nods at me, then opens the gate.

Relief sweeps through me.

We ride out of Corbinelle, into the night, and the wind rushes over us. I take in the landscape, silver-red in the moonlight. It's not long before we pass charred stone walls, abandoned villages of crushed roofs and blackened stones, and a collapsed bridge with jagged stones that tumble into a river. Clearly, when Auberon fears a threat to his crown, his response is swift, brutal, and bloody.

The Shadowed Thicket reeks of yesterday's booze, sweat, and dirt. This tavern is the sort of place people visit in search of one specific aim: getting obliterated.

When we step in, hours after midnight, there's only a handful of patrons left. Most sit alone. A trio of men are trying to sing together, though it sounds like each one is singing a different tune.

"Any idea how to find him?" I ask Nivene.

"Give me a second." She sidles up to the bar, then waves over the bartender. "We'll have two…whatever."

"Two whatever coming right up." He picks up two smudged glasses, then pours a pale golden drink in them.

Nivene takes a long sip from her mug and licks her lips. "This is good. Almost as good as the mead I drank at my coming-of-age dance, back in Saxa." She speaks loudly, clearly.

The barman seems to freeze. He stares at her for a long while, then leaves through a door in the back.

"He seems to recognize the pass phrase," Nivene whispers. She takes another sip, looking around her.

I bring the glass to my lips. I'm not an expert in Fey meads, but even to my untrained palette, this stuff is nearly undrinkable. It tastes like fermented cough medicine. No wonder the pass phrase starts with "this is good." These words were probably never uttered here by mere chance.

Within another minute, a man sits down on the bar stool next to Nivene. His long brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and he wears a maroon cloak. His cheeks look gaunt, his skin pale.

"Hello, Meriadec," Nivene says.

"Nivene." He takes a sip of mead from Nivene's glass and stares at me over the rim. "Are you going to use my real name in front of strangers as a matter of course, or just around the pretty ones?"

"You can trust her," says Nivene. "She's a demi-Fey from Avalon Tower."

"I trust no one." He shoves her glass back into her hand. "That's why I'm still alive. Where's Alix?"

"Dead." She says this with almost no emotion.

His hazel eyes widen. "I'm sorry to hear that. Your sister was a decent person. Honorable. And she never pissed me off, which is more than I can say for you."

Nivene smirks. "Well, she would have appreciated your touching eulogy. We need your help."

"No."

"No? This is your moment, Meriadec. The moment you've been waiting for. This is your chance for revenge for everything they've done. For the Scorched Earth Revolution—for everything."

"They don't serve revenge here. Only that absolute swill in your glass."

"What happened to the Meriadec I met twenty years ago? The one who was ready to die for the cause? To, quoting your own words, ‘introduce the human guillotine to Brocéliande'?"

He narrows his eyes. " That Meriadec was abandoned by your lot. That Meriadec was left to fend for himself in another famine-ravaged kingdom. Just as the famine was spreading, your lot lost interest in us. And when Auberon imagined he might be faced with another revolt, he started killing anyone he thought of as disloyal. Burning villages. Mass executions. Half the people I know died in Auberon's torture dungeons. I spent four years in the forest, hiding from the King's Watch and living on acorns and pigeons. And now you want me to die for my cause? That's the thing, Nivene. For all intents and purposes, I did die for the cause."

I wince at his words. No wonder Raphael was so desperate to get his sister out.

"We didn't lose interest," Nivene whispers. "Auberon closed the borders. The only undercover contacts we could maintain in the Fey Realm were in France. Brocéliande became impossible. We could only get back in here when Nia found an ancient ley portal."

Meriadec narrows his eyes. "Is that right?"

"Fill me in. What did we miss after the borders closed?"

"You must know about the start of the famine?"

"Yes. We have demi-Fey knights who escaped Brocéliande after it started."

"Right, so all the crops failed, and the commoners were starving. No one knows why, but Auberon scapegoated the demi-Fey and their allies. He called them enemies of the kingdom. Of course, the famine had nothing to do with the demi-Fey. Sometimes, nature just turns rotten, doesn't it? But Auberon was clever. People were ready to turn on him. They knew that those in Perillos castle ate lavishly while they starved, so he directed their rage elsewhere--at the demi-Fey. They caused the famine, he said, with their mixed blood, polluting our land, an offense to the gods. They conspired against us. They conspired with human allies to destroy us all. And when most of the kingdom was half-dead with starvation, he promised to invade the human world. They're the real enemies, aren't they? And France is now Auberon's breadbasket." He shrugs. "At least we're not eating grass anymore. We have France's wheat."

I touch his arm. "Speaking of those demi-Fey agents from Brocéliande, one of them is looking for his sister here. Have you heard anything about a fortress just for demi-Fey prisoners somewhere in the kingdom?"

Meriadec shakes his head. "I don't think they keep many demi-Fey prisoners alive."

My heart sinks.

Nivene leans in closer to Meriadec. "Listen, Meriadec, we have a real chance to get close to Auberon and his son now. Really close."

He snorts. "I've heard that before."

Nivene grabs my shoulder a little too hard. "Talan wants this woman to be his mistress. His ma?tresse-en-titre . He's going to look for her in a few days, if we get her cover story straight."

Meriadec stares at me in disbelief, his jaw dropping. "You can't be serious."

"It's true," I say. "And trust me, I want that monster dead."

He snatches Nivene's drink again and takes a long sip. "Tell me everything."

"Sure," Nivene says. "I'll just get us another round of those terrible drinks."