Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

O n the misty shore of Avalon, I step out of the boat onto the wet rocks. Cold fog twines around me. Avalon's pale stone castle looms over an icy, craggy hill. Now, in the midst of winter, the trees are barren, and a furious wind howls between their branches. At least the rain has stopped.

What would it do to a person to live in this kind of bleak isolation for fifteen centuries?

Manipulate him , Darius said. Use him .

Back in our cozy room, that sounded like a great idea. But with a steeply peaked, half-ruined castle towering over me, and the haunting moan of the wind wrapping around me, I'm having second thoughts.

As I start to climb the winding path toward the castle, I remind myself that I'm doing this for Raphael. It may be freezing here, but he's in worse conditions. I can almost see his silver eyes burning like flames before me and hear him murmuring, I've got you, love. Don't worry, I've got you.

Whatever happens next, I can't let an ancient, usurped Fey king mess with my head.

Maybe his isolation can work to my advantage.

As I ascend the crumbling stairs, the clouds slide away from the moon. It's full tonight, and silver light pours over the half-ruined castle covered in rain-slick vines. My gaze drifts up to the carvings in the pale stone, the exquisite faces formed from twisting leaves.

And just as before, my father appears. Mordred steps from the shadows of a dark archway. His golden eyes make my breath catch, and the moon gleams off his dark, spiked crown.

Isolation hasn't diminished him, I think, nor does he seem desperate. He radiates power, so strong it sets my teeth on edge.

Focus, Nia.

Everything is a negotiation. Mordred wants something from me, and I need to make him think he can get it. I can't seem too eager, or he'll have the upper hand.

He crosses his arms, leaning against the stone archway. "I feel I've waited centuries for you."

"I had to think about your offer."

"Come inside. I'm afraid my castle isn't as grand as it once was."

He turns, leading me into a vast hall lit with torches. The ceiling is over a hundred feet high and crumbling in places. Trees line the side of the hall, their branches heavy with apples, even though it's winter. Little silver lights twinkle from the trees like glowing ice. Columns soar high above, their surfaces intricately carved to look like curling leaves, sometimes forming faces.

Grass and wildflowers grow rampantly over the stone floor. It's disorienting—a place that can't decide if it's inside or outside, if it's summer or winter. But most strange of all, a grand table spans the hall, set with crystal glasses, white plates, and flickering candelabras.

"Expecting a party?" I ask.

"Ah, well, we set this up to celebrate the end of the battle."

I cross to the table, running my finger over the rim of one of the delicate glasses. " We set it up? You're not here alone?"

A line forms between his eyebrows, and he looks almost confused for a moment. "Well, I wasn't alone. Mother had this arranged to celebrate winning the war against Camelot, only it didn't work out that way. And instead of celebrating, I found myself here alone, while Auberon stole my crown. Do you know what? I hope Merlin is still conscious in that fucking tree, being crushed to death for all eternity."

"The war against Camelot." I pull my finger away from the glass rim and stare at him. "This banquet table has been here for fifteen centuries."

His expression darkens. "I'd rather not count the years since our golden age. I'd prefer to ignore that passage of time." His voice echoes off the high ceiling, the sound reverberating all around me.

"What exactly happened between Morgan and Merlin?" I ask.

"He was jealous, wasn't he? As our court swelled in grandeur, Arthur and Merlin grew more envious. We could trade with anyone back then because of our portals. We didn't even need to sail. And Arthur's covetousness started the war. He wanted our portals for himself, and he had a perfect way to justify it. Apparently, we were sinful . We taught the humans how to enjoy their lives, and that is forbidden. Did you know that? Enjoying things is very naughty. So, that's why Arthur made plans to take over our kingdom."

He turns back to look at me, and his misty breath clouds around his handsome face.

Maybe I shouldn't have asked. He's already controlling the conversation when I should be. "You know what? Maybe we shouldn't dwell on the past," I say. "I need to get one of our knights back. When we last met, you said you could help me save Raphael."

"Raphael," Mordred echoes. Moonlight and shadow highlight his sharp cheekbones, his strong jawline. His voice vibrates in the vast space, almost as if the entire castle is part of his body. I have the strange feeling that the castle takes a breath when he does. "Is that his name? The silver-eyed man that Auberon took from you? The one I met in my dreams. His mother was human, yes? Kidnapped by the Court of Merlin before they sealed up their portals?"

I nod. "I didn't know she was kidnapped, but yes, Raphael is a silver-eyed demi-Fey."

"He is imprisoned in Brocéliande."

"I know. I need to get there, and I don't know how."

He leans against a carved column. "Most of the portals in and out of Brocéliande are closed now. But mine isn't. I don't think they know about it. And that is why you're here. I am the last refuge for a desperate, shipwrecked soul washed up on my shore. But when you get into Brocéliande, then what? You'll ask for directions to the king's dungeons? Or do you think if you ask the black-hearted prince nicely, he'll release his prisoner?"

"I'm trained in espionage."

"I'm trained in espionage," he says in a mimicry of my voice. Then his dark eyebrows knit together as he studies me. He's looking for something in my expression. What is it? Is he trying to decide if he can trust me?

And then I know. I'm his daughter, and he wants to see the resemblance. And more than anything, he wants company .

The Fey thrive on merriment and pleasure, on parties and banquets. The man has been starved of other people for eons, waiting centuries alone for a celebration that never happened, with only memories and ghosts for companions.

I'd worried about my own desperation shining through, but he's as desperate as I am. I'm the first family he's had since his world ended, and the more he thinks we have in common, the more he'll want to help me.

I take a step closer to him, examining his features. It's easy to see the similarities between us. The thick, dark eyebrows and large eyes, the black eyelashes, the straight nose. His eyes gleam an eerie gold, while mine are dark—but their almond shape is the same.

I certainly don't have his height, but I can mimic his stance, head high and chin raised. I adapt his posture subtly, sliding my hands into my pockets like he does.

"When I get there, I can handle myself. Once I get through, I'll find him." I adjust my tone slightly, making it sound more imperious, like his.

He wants me to ask for his help, but if I seem too weak, he might change his mind. Mordred doesn't want a connection to someone useless. He respects power and strength.

With a sliver of satisfaction, I see in his expression that I hit the mark.

"You can't find him," he says. "Auberon keeps his prisoners well-hidden. But I can help you, daughter. If you help me."

I raise an eyebrow. "Help you destroy Avalon Tower?"

He shrugs slowly, flashing me a half-smile. "It is foretold."

"What does it mean to destroy Avalon Tower?" I ask. "Like, do you want it demolished, or what?"

"Every stone in every building may remain where it is. But Avalon Tower is and always has been run by the Pendragons. Arthur's descendants. I merely want all the Pendragons to die, one by one. That's all."