Page 34 of Vale of Dreams

“She didn’t support his attack on Camelot. She was worried for him, I think. She tried to talk him out of it. I think she saw that it would go badly for him…Shalott had a small army, and she refused to send her forces to aid him. Mordred took it personally, so he cursed her to stay trapped out there on the balcony, weaving her tapestries in isolation. Her only contact with the rest of the world was through watching people in that mirror. They say Auberon broke the curse, rescued her from this tower after the battle, and dragged her into Brocéliande to be his bride. But she never got over her love for Mordred, and she died of a broken heart. Now, her ghost haunts this place, and in the dead of night, she rattles the doors and windows, demanding to come inside from the cold. I talk to her sometimes, but it’s hard to understand what she’s saying. She’s always crying.”

A shiver ripples over me. I’d really made a pact with one of the worst people I’d ever met. “Sounds like a nice place for a meeting.”

“It’s private. Somewhere you can talk without the Pendragons or their cult members eavesdropping. It’s going to be just three of you: you, Nivene, and Viviane. Serana and I will wait for you outside the door to get you back without harassment.”

I’m wheezing as we reach the top floor, and Tana gestures for me to open the door to the pale stone balcony.

I find Nivene and Viviane sitting by a blazing fire pit, both of them clutching teacups. The air is crisp and cool, just above freezing. The sun dazzles with that crisp light that often follows a rainstorm.

“We were followed,” says Tana. “The Iron Legion. Serana stalled them, though.”

“Good,” says Viviane.

I survey the terrace, where ivy climbs the walls. On one side, a large weaving loom stands before a mirror. Within the loom, the threads form the shape of a web. As I peer at the glass of the mirror, its surface shimmers and ripples like lake water. Then it transforms into a vision of the bustling streets of Camelot—the cobbled twists of Malevile Lane, then the ramshackle shops of Dark House Walk… The vision is gone again in the next moment.

“Is that her mirror?” I half suspect that the sleep deprivation has me hallucinating. “The Lady of Shalott’s?”

“That’s the one,” says Viviane.

For a moment, I think I can feel her heartbroken presence whispering cold over my skin, and I shudder. I glance at the mirror again and feel as if I’ve been bathed in ice water.

“Helloooo?” Nivene snaps her fingers at me. “Are you awake? We need the debriefing to begin.”

“Hang on.” Viviane hands me a small brown paper bag. “Tana told me you haven’t had breakfast.”

I open it to find a sandwich of fresh bread, Cheshire cheese, and a fig spread. My stomach rumbles. “I love you.”

“That’s too much emotional expression for me, thank you,” says Viviane shortly. Her smooth blond hair gleams in the dazzling light.

I glance up at her. “I was talking to the sandwich.” I take a bite. Delicious.

“You look like shit,” Nivene says.

“It’s been a long night,” I reply, my mouth full. “A long several nights. Sleep has been elusive.”

“So we’ve heard,” Viviane says. “So? Tana and Serana told us something rather extraordinary. They said you found the lost Isle of Avalon, where Queen Morgan used to rule. It’s been missing since the Fey War. We all thought it drowned, like Shalott.”

My mouth is full, and I nod.

Viviane narrows her eyes. “That alone already sounds improbable. It’s been lost fifteen hundred years, but I suppose you are a Sentinel. Then they told me that apparently, you found a portal on the Isle of Avalon, one formed from ring stones. And although Auberon closed his borders, you could get through as a Sentinel. They said it leads directly to Auberon’s fortress, where you found Raphael. Honestly, it almost seems too good to be true. Why didn’t you come right to us?”

Ah. Well, it is too good to be true because I left out the part where I had to make a deal with the Butcher of Lothian Tower. Mordred, the slayer of innocent women. Curser of Countesses. I glance at the magical mirror again, my blood running cold.

“It’s true,” I say. “I found Avalon.”

“When did you find it?” snaps Nivene.

Fuck. Of course she’s the type who’d immediately be able to suss out when I’m leaving out something important.

I sigh. “Months ago. But I thought it was just abandoned. I didn’t realize it was useful until I found the portal. It’s mostly just a ruined castle and barren apple trees. Nothing of value except the dolmens.”

“We need to get to Avalon,” Viviane says. “Scope it out. And then, if it’s really all you said, we can launch the attack.”

Viviane’s eyes flash. “A portal into Auberon’s fortress? It’s Sir Kay’s wet dream. We gather a few hundred soldiers and agents and storm through the portal. We Kill Auberon and Talan, and every other royal member of Auberon’s house. We cripple the Fey’s command. End the war. The Court of Morgan will lay in ashes.”

A pit opens in my stomach. I haven’t told them yet that Mordred is what’s left of the court of Morgan—and so am I. “We can’t send an army through. Only Sentinels can walk through the ley portal. That’s only Nivene and me.”

Nivene nods. “Just like it was before the first invasion. There were ley portals that only Sentinels could walk through. There were many on Avalon and across England. The biggest one was in Stonehenge, of course, but there were more. A bunch in Ireland. One or two in America. Any Fey with Sentinel powers could go back and forth through them using ley lines. But around the time that Auberon invaded France, they stopped working. We assumed Auberon shut them down, but maybe he didn’t know Avalon was still there.”

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