Page 107 of Vale of Dreams

“Are you sure?” says Raphael. “All I see is mushrooms.”

“It’s a Sentinel thing,” I say. “But you see how they’re in a ring and growing even through the snow? Always good to look for a Fey portal there.”

I dismount, my legs aching with fatigue. Raphael follows my lead, and Ysolde slumps off her horse, half-awake. We cross into the circle of mushrooms and stand huddled together, Ysolde resting her head against Raphael’s arm.

Shivering, I pull out Talan’s key and turn it over in my hands. Does it need a magical phrase of some sort?

But even as I ask myself that question, the key crackles in my hand.

Power buzzes over me, and the portal blooms, swallowing us whole. The snowy landscape flickers away.

CHAPTER 40

Wind shrieks in my ears, and cold rain spatters my cheek. The portal key in my hand is suddenly blazing hot, and I drop it to the grass at my feet. It hisses, steam rising from the metal.

I look up to see Ysolde on her knees, vomiting onto the wet grass. I know how she feels. This one is even more disorienting than Avalon’s ley portal.

Rainclouds churn overhead, and Raphael pulls his cloak tightly around him, staring at something over my shoulder.

I turn to see a castle of weathered stone standing at the base of a tree-lined hill. Its ancient walls tower above us, tinged red in the sunset. This castle could belong back in Brocéliande, but when I look up, the moon is already out. A full, single moon.

“Any idea where we are?” asks Raphael.

Ysolde stands, her face pale. “We can ask him.”

A man wearing wellies and a tweed jacket steps out of the castle. He’s carrying a large hunting rifle, and he aims it straight at us. “Not one step closer,” he hollers in a Scottish accent. “This rifle is loaded with iron bullets, and I can hit all three of you before you say Jack Robinson.”

I hold up my hands. “We aren’t moving! We’re staying right where we are.”

“My English isn’t so good,” Ysolde whispers. “What is this Jack Robinson?”

“It’s just an old human saying.” Stupidly, tears spring to my eyes at hearing English again. “We’re somewhere in Scotland. I was right. The portal key was intended to take Talan to Scotland.”

“We’re not Fey, we’re demi-Fey!” Raphael calls back to the man in English. “We mean you no harm.”

“Yeah? Not being funny, lad, but when I see pointy ears, I’m not exactly brimming with confidence.”

“I’m undercover,” I call out. “I grew up in Los Angeles. I’m not really Fey.” I try to think of the most human things I can. “As a kid, I ate McDonald’s Happy Meals with plastic toys. I drink Dunkin’ Donuts coffee with vanilla flavor shots. My favorite food as a kid was corn dogs.”

I turn to see Raphael staring at me, horrified.

The man keeps the rifle aimed at me. “Christ, lass, now I’m tempted to shoot you to put you out of your misery,” he says, slowly lowering the gun. “Americans, here now, as well as the Fey. Not sure which is worse. No offense, but you look proper Fey to me. You’ve got the pointy Fey ears, not the half-breed sort.”

“It’s glamour,” I say. “We’re agents working with the allied armies. My name is Nia.”

He takes another step closer. “I’m Cameron. So, what are you doing all the way here? The war is mainly to the south, as far as I know.”

“This is just where the portal dropped us. Do you have a phone? We need to get in contact with our superior officers.”

“Phones are knackered. Stopped working completely all through Scotland a few weeks ago,” he says.

“A telegram?” I ask desperately. “Any way to get in touch?”

He shakes his head. “We’re back to the Middle Ages. Homing pigeons and messengers, that’s all we have. My eejit cousin thought we could deliver messages by smoke signals, and he nearly burned his house down.”

“Where are we, exactly?” I ask.

“We’re at Castle Menzies. We have a bunch of war refugees staying here now, escaping the Fey soldiers. I’m the bloody welcoming committee.”

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