Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

A s I run up the stairs of Lothian Tower, my lungs are screaming. My asthma is always much worse in the winter during physical exertion. I've grown complacent because it doesn't seem to bother me in Brocéliande.

But tonight, after I rowed across the lake, then ran upward through the streets of Camelot and up several flights of steps, I'm wheezing, gasping. The anxiety isn't helping, either. Please don't let me be late. Please don't let me be late .

There's no Iron Legion cadet standing guard against the nefarious demi-Fey in the Astolat Atrium, and I take that as a bad sign. Someone called them off. Is that because there's no more need to spy on these demi-Fey?

Please don't let me be late .

I reach the door to our room and slam into it, tumbling inside. I half-expect to find my friends with their throats slit, but to my relief, the first sound that welcomes me to the room is Serana's snores.

Tana sits up in her bed, her hair frazzled, eyes blinking in confusion. "Nia?" she mutters sleepily.

"Quick," I blurt, breathing hard. My lungs are shrieking with every breath, sounding like a broken whistle. "The…key… we…must…lock…" I can't keep talking, my head is spinning. I stumble to my nightstand and fling the drawer open, hoping to find my extra inhaler still in it. Instead, I find three combs, a book titled Vampires Stay Hard , and glitter eyeliner. I blink, gasping for breath.

Someone sits up in my bed. I draw my knife, ready to fight.

"Nia!" Darius says.

"Darius." I exhale. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't want to stay in my own room. The atmosphere is getting very hostile, so I figured since you're gone, I could bunk here a few days."

"Where…my…stuff…"

He opens the second drawer in the nightstand, and I rummage in it, finding the inhaler. I put it to my mouth, taking two deep puffs and drawing them into my lungs.

"Lock the door," I blurt, still half out of breath. "Assassins coming."

"What's going on?" Serana mumbles, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing here, Nia?"

Darius, to his credit, functions much better when awakened. He leaps out of bed and scrambles to find the room key underneath a bunch of Serana's things. Within seconds, he's at the door, turning it in the lock.

I clutch my inhaler to my chest. "I've come to warn you. The Iron Legion is attacking tonight. Targeting all demi-Fey in the tower. What other demi-Fey do we need to warn?"

"No one," Tana says. "Apart from us, they're all in Scotland. Viviane is in Ireland, preparing a backup base of operations."

"Oh," I say, feeling ill.

That's why the Iron Legion chose to strike today. Just three demi-Fey to take down—easy to overcome, but a terrifying message to the rest.

"How did you get this information, Nia?" Serana asks. "I thought you were in Brocéliande."

"I was."

Darius frowns. "So how did you get a warning about the Iron Legion?"

Mordred's Hemlock Oath has me limited in how much I can tell them. "It doesn't matter. The point is, they're coming."

Serana stares at me. "Was it Mordred?"

Darius shakes his head. "But how would he know what's happening at Avalon Tower? He can't leave Avalon."

I'm not about to drop dead from the oath just to fill them in. "It was a source I trust for information. That's all I can say."

"It doesn't matter," Tana says. And for just a second, I see her glancing at my palm, where a trace of the scar from the Hemlock Oath is still visible.

Serana turns to her weapons chest and flings it open. She pulls out a curved blade and swings it twice.

"Here." Tana walks over to me and hands me a water bottle. "Drink. You look like you ran all the way from Brocéliande."

"I sort of did." I take a long swig to find that it's cold jasmine tea, Tana's drink of choice. Right now, it feels like heaven.

"Darius, axe or sword?" Serana asks, sticking a knife in her belt.

"Do you have that nice blade that I gave you for your birthday?" Darius asks.

"No, it's at the blacksmith's. I wanted the pommel adjusted."

"What's wrong with the pommel?"

Serana's red hair gleams in the moonlight. "Nothing, I just like them bigger."

"It's not the pommel's size that matters, it's?—"

"Hello!" I say. "Assassins, remember?"

"Give me an axe," Darius says sulkily.

Serana throws him an axe, and he deftly catches it in one hand and twirls it.

"Nia? Are you armed?" Serana asks.

"I just have a dagger."

"Here." She hands me the curved blade.

"You don't need it?" I ask.

She pulls out two nasty-looking maces and grins at me. "I feel like breaking some bones."

"I think I'm going to hang back for this one," says Tana. "But I'll cheer you on."

"You do that, hon." Serana eyes the door.

"That's much appreciated." I smile at her.

All of us stand, prepared.

"When, exactly, are they coming, Nia?" Serana says.

"I don't know. Sometime during the night."

"And you're sure it's tonight they're coming?"

I hesitate. "Pretty sure."

"Because if we wait here awake all night like twats and nothing happens, I'm going to feel a bit miffed."

"I can't be?—"

The door handle starts turning slowly, and all of us fall silent, tensing. I hold my breath. The door shudders.

"It's locked," someone says outside.

"Never mind," another voice answers. "Those old locks won't withstand a few kicks."

Darius glances at me, the grip on his axe tightening.

"Ready?" the voice from outside says.

A second later, the door thumps and shudders. Then it booms again. Before it happens a third time, Serana smoothly turns the key in the lock and yanks the door open.

A masked man stumbles forward into the room, the open door catching him by surprise. Serana's mace whooshes, slamming into his arm with a sickening crunch. He screams, and a second man follows him through the door. I hurl one of my knives at him. It sinks into his side, and he staggers, falling back.

By then, three more men barge inside, one of them hurling himself at Darius. Serana is fighting another, her maces flashing as she swings them. The third guy tries to catch her from behind, and I sink my sword into his thigh. He screeches in pain, tumbling to the floor.

Darius manages to disarm the guy who's fighting him, but another man leaps at him, stabbing him with a nasty knife. Darius grunts, falling back. He's clutching his side, tumbling to his knees.

In a fury, Tana screeches, throwing a teapot at the man. She follows it with a barrage of teacups, all shattering.

And then, just as suddenly as they came, they retreat, falling over themselves to get out of the room. They drag one of their wounded away, kicking the door shut as they go. Serana is ready to run after them, but I grab her arm. "Darius," I say.

"Right." Her eyes flash, and she turns around, rushing to Darius.

He's in the fetal position now, grabbing his side. Tana kneels next to him, and she rolls up his blood-soaked shirt. I'm relieved to see it looks like a shallow gash.

"I don't think it's too bad," Darius says, wincing with pain. "Ugh. I shouldn't have let him get me like that."

"You were fighting two of them." Serana yanks open her desk drawer and pulls out a first aid kit.

"They fought hard to get all of their friends away," I say.

"Of course," Tana says grimly. "They didn't want one of them caught and interrogated."

"Well, keep an eye out for a bunch of Iron Legion assholes limping tomorrow," I say.

"Nice moves with your blades, Nia," Serana says, dabbing Darius's cut with alcohol. "Hard to believe you're the same girl who showed up here less than a year ago."

"It wasn't as good as Tana's teapot maneuver."

"She's the legendary Teapot Dame," Serana says. "Sworn to strike down villains with her kettle and cups."

"You can laugh, but if the tea in that pot was hot, his face would have melted off," Tana points out.

"Who's laughing?" Serana says. "Tomorrow, I want you to start teaching me all you know in the dark arts of tea violence."

I grin, breathing out a sigh of relief that we made it relatively unscathed. No matter what Mordred said, coming here was the right call.

I glance at Darius as Serana sews his wound closed. It'll leave a scar, but he'll recover. Running a hand through my hair, I say, "I can't stay. I have to get back to Brocéliande before my maidservant notices I'm gone."

"Ooooh," says Serana in a high-pitched, fake posh voice. "My maidservant ."

Tana's eyes shine as she touches my shoulder. She leans in closer, whispering, "Watch your back. The cards show me endless danger for you."

I pull back and smile at her, trying to look as if this doesn't rattle me. "Endless danger? Must be Wednesday."

As I'm taking the stairs back down to my boat, I hear wild, raucous laughter coming from one of the common rooms. There's only one person whose laughter sounds like a braying hyena.

Tarquin.

I stop dead in the middle of the hall. I should be running outside, but I'm certain Tarquin was behind that attack.

I pivot and march through the torchlit hall to the common room. I push it open and hide in the atrium, where a red velvet curtain shields me from their view.

When I peer around the corner, I see them. Tarquin, Horatio, and a bunch of their lackeys sit at an oak table, several empty wine bottles between them. Torchlight wavers over their drunken faces and the stacks of books all around them.

"I'd fuck the tall one," Tarquin says. "What's her name? Serana? Yeah, I bet she's proper filthy. You can just tell, can't you? She's into proper weird stuff."

"She looks like a biter." Horatio guffaws. "I'd go with the creepy one. The one who acts like she knows the future. Bet she takes it up the khyber."

"I bet she'd see syphilis in her future if she took you up on that, mate," Tarquin says.

A bunch of their friends jeer and make fun of Horatio.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Tarquin says. "That ship has sailed. No one will be taking any of them up anything."

My jaw tightens. With every moment, with every word from their lips, I'm feeling fonder of Mordred's goal. Kill the Pendragons.

It's not so mad after all, is it?

"Why has that ship sailed?" a drunken female voice calls from the other side of the room. "Did they leave?"

"Oh, yes." Tarquin laughs. "They left."

There's something familiar in the woman's voice, and I shift a bit closer so I can see her in the shadows.

My heart sinks.

It's Mom.

Dressed in a bright pink sundress that makes no sense in winter, her face flushed to match it, she leans against one of the Iron Legion goons, eyes glazed. She's smiling that smile she wears when she wants to placate a guy.

"Hey, Brandy," Tarquin says. "Do that bit again. From the movie you played in."

"Oh, you boys have heard it so many times." My mom giggles.

"It's always so cool to hear it again. You know what big fans we are of your film."

My throat is dry. When she was young, back in the eighties, mom was an actress in one film. That was back when electronics worked, of course. It was some sort of comedy. She made me watch it a bunch of times. It was terrible, but Mom always mentioned it to everyone. Her fifteen minutes of glory.

Now, my mom stands up, and to my absolute horror, mimes as if she's showering, washing her hair. Then she turns around, her eyes widening. She covers her chest. "Why, Jason," she says, her voice slurred from the drink. "I didn't know you were here."

And Tarquin, Horatio, and two other guys all shout the next line together: "Well, what would you do if you did know?"

Mom gives them a lopsided grin. "Oh, you boys. You're terrible."

They all laugh hysterically, and Mom laughs with them.

"You're so much fun, Brandy," Tarquin says. "I can see where Nia gets all of her qualities."

At that, more of them laugh.

I stumble out of the common room and find my way outside to the cold air. Once I do, I promptly throw up all over the grass.

It's clear that this is not the first time my mom has spent her time hanging out with the Iron Legion. And it's clear why they're keeping her around: Nia's mother, the great joke. I should never have left Camelot with her still here.

I force myself to walk toward the boat, out by Nimue's Tower.

As I cross the bridge, I can hear their laughter echoing in my thoughts, and I wipe a tear from my cheek.

Tarquin has no idea what's coming for him.

My body shakes with exhaustion as I stumble through the portal back to Brocéliande. I wait, crouched by the wall, until the coast is clear. As luck would have it, it doesn't take long.

I hurry across the snowy courtyard, pulling my cloak tightly around me.

The sun is rising already, a rosy blush spreading over the kingdom. I'm late. Too late. Aisling will have knocked on my door by now. She'll have entered the room and seen the empty bed.

But I push that thought away. No point worrying about it unless she's suspicious.

My breath puffs around me as I hurry across the snow, and I reach my tower. I dash up the stairs, then stride through the hallways to my room.

When I reach my bedroom, I find the door slightly open, and my stomach sinks.

I step inside silently to find that Aisling is standing by the bed, the tea tray in her hands. She turns to look at me, and my mind whirrs. "And where were you, my lady?"

Time slows down.

I know what Nivene would do. A quick stab to the throat, and she'd be gone. A loose end tied up. It's the best course of action. Anything else would place me in a problematic position.

I smile. "I woke up early and went for a long walk in the gardens."

She frowns, eying me, my disheveled clothes, my flushed face. "It must have been a very long walk, my lady."

And there it is—the tinge of suspicion.

I look at her and force myself to think about Tarquin and my mother. About the attack on my friends. About Mordred's warning of Arwenna's poison. Of all the people dying in Scotland because I still haven't provided any useful intel about the war. About Raphael's crushing rejection. My chin trembles, a tear trickling from my eye.

"Oh, my lady, what's wrong?"

"It's just…" I say with a choked voice. "It's been so difficult. I know it's stupid, you see me in this gorgeous bedroom, with all these clothes, and amazing food, and with you looking after my every need. And of course, I'm grateful. But…I just feel so lonely here. Without my friends. Without my father. I don't know if you realize, but the women here don't really like me very much. And I woke up in the middle of the night, and I just couldn't sleep, and I needed to get out, and…" By now, I'm sniffling, my voice cracking, tears streaming.

"Oh, my poor girl!" Aisling wraps me in a hug. "It'll all be alright. Here, get back into bed. I'll go get you some fresh breakfast. Maybe you should stay in bed and rest for a bit today."

I pull off my cloak. "Thank you, Aisling. You're taking such good care of me."

"Think nothing of it, love. You just rest, okay?"

"Okay," I say meekly, curling under the blanket.

But rest is far from my mind. If tonight's taught me anything, it's that I haven't been working hard enough. I need to start making riskier moves, getting more information faster.

And it begins with getting closer to Talan.