Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

A chill ripples over my skin. It seems that my father has something in common with a few of my friends.

Still, as much as I hate Wrythe, Tarquin, and Ginevra, I'm not sure I can justify killing an entire group of people just because of their family name.

But I'm not really working with him, am I? I'm manipulating him.

I hunch my shoulders in the cold air. "Avalon Tower is no longer just Pendragons. It's not like it was in your golden age. What about the rest of us? The demi-Fey? The humans who are not Pendragons?"

"I want the Pendragons dead." He gestures at the table. "I want Arthur's line extinguished. Then we celebrate."

He really is doing all of this for a party, isn't he? It's the Feyest thing ever.

"Fine. Now, will you tell me how to save Raphael?"

He stretches out a long arm and plucks an apple from a tree. "Of course. To save him, we must learn exactly where they're keeping him."

"So, you don't know where he is?"

"In my dreams, I see mere glimpses. He is in Auberon's fortress, but it's a vast place, with countless dungeons, cells, and torture chambers. I need to think." He takes a bite of the apple, closes his eyes, and leans his head back against the column.

I grit my teeth in frustration as I turn back to look at the banquet table. He's actually still got ancient wine in the decanters. Dust and snow cover the plates and the faded gold tablecloth. There are food trays with silver domes on them. I hate to think of what's underneath them.

I have no idea what Mordred is doing right now. Eyes closed, he seems deep in thought. He begins to hum, an eerie, haunting tune that raises the hair on my nape and pulls my attention from the banquet table. The song is uncanny, strangely familiar, and his body glows with silver. And for some reason, I feel as if the tune is beckoning me closer.

After a while, movement catches my eye from above, and I glance up to see a cloud of silver moths fluttering down from the ruined ceiling. As Mordred hums, they twirl and dance in the air, their wings ignited by the slate-silver moonlight. Mordred holds out his hand, and a moth lands on his palm.

He opens his eyes and clamps his hand into a fist, crushing it. The rest of the moths scatter, flitting away from him. He opens his hand again, and my breath hitches. On his palm is a jeweled silver moth, its wings decorated with tiny, sparkling stones.

"Take it," he says.

I take it from his palm, a lifeless moth made of metal.

"This moth will be my ears and my eyes. Carry it into Auberon's castle. Once it's inside, I will be able to see and hear everything that goes on in the fortress. I will be able to find your Raphael. And the moment I find him, the moth will lead you to him."

"You make it sound almost easy."

"It will not be easy. Steer clear of Auberon—that goes without saying. And his dark-eyed son, too. The Dream Stalker is dangerous, one of the few remaining with primal powers."

"What are his powers, besides invading people's dreams?" I can't take my eyes off the little creature in my hand.

"Just stay away from him and focus on the moth."

"How do I get into the fortress? Castle Perillos is surrounded by towering walls."

"The portal will take you straight into the castle's garden. You won't need to get past the walls—you'll already be inside them. Once you're in, it's not heavily guarded. There are hundreds of entrances into the castle itself. I don't know whether any of the doors to the towers will be open, so you may have to get creative."

"How do we open the portal?"

Mordred narrows his pale blue eyes. "You don't need to worry about that. Follow me, do what I say; that's all you need to know."

Spoken like a true parent. And incredibly, this revenge-obsessed weirdo might actually be the better parent of the two.

"Come with me." He turns, stalking across the hall.

I follow him through a heavy set of oak doors. As I step outside again, the cold wind stings my cheeks. He leads me into a vast garden. Large stone dolmens rise from the earth like an overgrown Stonehenge in the moonlight. They are carved with spirals that seem to circle endlessly, like obsessive thoughts spinning back in time. They remind me of Mordred.

He stops before the stones and nods at them. "Walk through the ley portal. Surely you can see it."

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. A faint buzzing sound thickens in the air like the hum that emanated from the Fey veil. I concentrate on my powers, summoning my Sentinel magic, and darkness spreads between the stones, a black tear in the landscape, as if some unknown hand had ripped a fragment of reality, leaving this hole in its wake.

I stare at it, my jaw dropping.

"These ring stones are a bridge between worlds," Mordred says. "There are numerous gateways to Brocéliande and other magical realms in Avalon through our carved stones. But since Brocéliande closed its borders, only a Sentinel or someone with a key can pass through this portal."

"Just Sentinels?" My heart sinks. My mind was already spinning with the possibility of unleashing dozens of Avalon agents directly into Auberon's castle. We'd end the war within a day.

"A Sentinel can forge the path between worlds and walk through it."

I grip the little metallic moth, then slide it into my damp coat pocket. "Auberon has his soldiers walk through portals that he opens from Brocéliande, but they've got keys."

His golden eyes flick up to the full moon. "And I have no idea how to make them, so you'll need to steal one of theirs if you want to get your lover out of Brocéliande. Now, are we going to talk all night, or are you going?"

I pull my cloak tightly around me. "Do I look like I could blend in there? I wasn't expecting to go right in tonight."

He narrows his eyes. "You look a mess. You can't be seen wearing that."

He touches the collar of my coat, and his magic thrums over me again. I look down to see my damp wool coat transform into a black gown with a lacy décolletage and a low-slung silver belt. It even has discreet pockets, and when I slide my hand inside one of them, I find the bejeweled moth tucked inside, along with my inhaler. My dagger is still wrapped around my waist, sheathed in dark leather that matches the dress.

I look up into his haunted golden eyes. "How many powers do you have, exactly? Is it true that your diametric powers are what drove you to massacre those in Lothian Tower?"

"Is that the story they're telling? Diametric powers ? Absolute nonsense. The Pendragons are fucking idiots." He casts a critical eye over me. "Right. The dress looks good. Unfortunately, I can't do anything about your stunted height. I can fix the deformed ears, though."

"Deformed?"

"Human." Frowning, he brushes a fingertip over the top of my ears, and I feel the tingle of glamour magic whispering over my ears.

"How does it look?" I ask.

"Perfect. And your eyes. They need to shine like ours do—dark steel for you, I think—and you need our sharpened canines."

Magic buzzes uncomfortably over my eyes, and I blink. "How long will this last?"

"Years, unless I remove it. You still mostly look like yourself, with a few tweaks. Tell me, could anyone there recognize your face? The Dream Stalker or the king, perhaps?"

My mind searches through all our encounters. I was in the same place with Prince Talan once, but he never looked at me. I was watching him carefully in the cabaret hall. The entire time he was tormenting me through dreams, I was on a different floor than him. He was in my head, but he never saw my face.

"I don't think the prince has ever seen me, and I doubt that anyone else would recognize me."

"Good. A complex glamour that would change your features significantly would fade quickly. But this can last much longer."

I hesitate. "There might be another problem. He hasn't seen me, but he's sensed me. I hear his thoughts sometimes. They've gone dark in the past few months, and that made me think he might be back in Brocéliande. And if I end up in his thoughts again, he might sense me. He called me ‘the little telepath.'"

Mordred leans closer. "You hear what ?"

"His thoughts. I hear other people's, too. I'm telepathic, but usually, I have to touch someone to hear their thoughts. But with Talan, I don't need to be anywhere near him."

"Do you hear anything useful in his thoughts? Battle plans, for example?"

I shake my head. "I wish. No, it's mostly dark, poetic, lonely." And sex. Lots of sex. "I didn't even know who I was hearing until a few months ago." All these years, I'd had a private radio broadcast straight from the mind of the crown prince of Brocéliande—a man feared and desired in equal measure.

"Now, that is interesting. So, he might sense you the moment you come through the portal?"

I shrug. "I got close to him once before, in the Chateau des Rêves, and he found me through my thoughts. He taunted me, then pulled me into a waking nightmare."

The wind rushes over us, and Mordred's black hair sweeps over his sharp cheekbones. "Well, that complicates things, but it's not insurmountable. Before you go in, you must shield your mind from him. As a Sentinel, you should be able to do it. Imagine a cloud of mist or fog in your skull. No, imagine the veil itself. Conjure up its hum in your mind and the shimmering cloud of mist. Block him from entering with a magical barrier. Do it now."

I close my eyes. My heart flutters, and I summon the image of the veil in my mind until I can hear its hum, feel the electrifying buzz over my skin, and see the pearlescent mist roiling in my thoughts. My skin prickles as though I'm approaching the actual barrier. "Okay. I think I've got it."

He shakes his head. "No, you don't. It's not powerful enough. Do it again. Really focus. You need it to last effortlessly while you're there."

"I am focusing." I tighten my fists as the imaginary veil hums in my mind.

"Focus more . You can't let down your guard when you're there. If you and the Dream Stalker have this connection, you must get it right."

I try again. And again.

Mordred berates me and snarls at me, losing his patience several times. He's far from the patient teacher that Raphael was. But finally, he claps his hands in what I think is satisfaction.

"That's good enough." He turns to the dolmens, and his black cape catches in the wind. "Go on. And remember exactly where the portal leaves you off, because you will need to return the same way."

"Okay. And how do I find the portal key I need to get Raphael back?"

"It will take a while, but my moth will help us. Eventually. Tonight, you should try to free him from his dungeon. Find a place for him to hide in Brocéliande. You and I will work on the key later."

My heart speeds up at the thought. I might see Raphael again, tonight . I should have come here sooner.

And telling him whose help I used to get him out? That's a problem for future Nia.

I step closer to the dolmens until I'm standing inches from the rain-soaked stone.

This portal isn't like the veil, a crisscrossing wall of magic that I could unravel. It's a continuous vortex of energy that pulls at my Sentinel magic, a black hole drawing me in.

The moment I touch the stone, I fall into the portal. Hard.