Page 112 of Vale of Dreams

Silence settles in the tent, and the commander scrubs a hand over his jaw.

“How certain are you of this?” Viviane asks, her blue eyes piercing me.

I take a deep breath. “Fairly certain. My intel is from two days ago. I took one of his portal keys, but he doesn’t need it. Auberon can open portals. I don’t know what the limits are on his magic—I only know that he can do it, and that he plans to do it tonight. You have to warn everyone.”

Viviane and Pearson exchange looks.

“That’s impossible,” Pearson says. “We don’t have a way to warn them. The Fey magic has completely disrupted our communications. We work with messengers and homing pigeons, and a pigeon will take about three hours to get there. Our assault will begin to mobilize in less than two hours.”

“Send the pigeon now,” I say. “They might have enough time to turn back.”

Pearson shakes his head. “They won’t. And we’re losing the war, Dame Nia. Even if your intel is true, we have no other option.”

“He’s right, Nia,” Viviane says softly. “We can’t turn this around now.”

I want to shout at them, but I see the hopelessness in their eyes.

Then, a tiny kernel of an idea starts to blossom in my mind.

“How long would it take you to send a small force to Glasgow?” I ask.

Pearson considers that. “The roads between here and Glasgow are more or less intact, and we have two old trucks that still work. I estimate that we can do it in two hours. Maybe two and a half.”

“But we don’t have more than twenty or thirty people we can send there,” Viviane says.

“That’s enough.” I shakily stand. “Send me with them.”

“What for?” Viviane asks. “You can’t change the outcome of the battle with just thirty people, Nia.”

“If I manage to shut the portal, I can stop the elite Fey force from coming through. The portal is just a short distance north of Glasgow.” It might be the only way to ruin Talan’s plans.

“You can shut the portal down?” Pearson asks.

My Sentinel powers haven’t worked on a portal—yet. But my powers have been growing for weeks in Brocéliande. In theory, it could work.

“I can’t promise it. But it’s possible. And frankly, none of us have a better idea, do we?”

CHAPTER 42

Isit on a bench in the truck’s open-air cargo area with a few other soldiers and Viviane. Another truck follows behind us, and a light dusting of snow falls, stinging my cheeks.

Viviane sighs. She looks exhausted. “When this is over, Nia, I want a chance to get back to Brocéliande. I miss the red moon. And the korriberry tarts the way my mum used to make them.”

“When did you leave?”

“It was just after the famine started. My mum knew things were going to get bad for a demi-Fey like me, so we moved to England. But I miss Brocéliande. It’s my home. We had a little cottage in the Melian Forest, and my specialty was picking mushrooms to cook with. I could identify all of them. When I lived in London, I used to dream every night that I was back there in the rich forest with red moonlight.”

I smile at her. “We’ll find a way to get you back.”

She frowns, surveying the landscape. “We should be near the portal now, if your prediction is right.”

“Let me focus.” I take a deep breath, trying to tune in for the feel of the portal magic. The noise and vibrations of the engine aren’t making it easy to focus, but the soldiers are keeping quiet.

I glance around at the rugged, wild landscape—rolling snow-dusted hills, the frosted heather and grasses that sparkle under the winter sun. From this point, we can see all the way to Glasgow, though it’s partially shrouded in mist. I inhale the scent of pines, moss, and damp earth, trying to clear my thoughts.

But I feel my powers fizzling within me. Without sleep, I can’t seem to summon the power I need to even find the portal, let alone close it.

As the minutes tick by, I can feel Viviane’s nerves fraying. Finally, she says, “Are you sure it’s somewhere here?”

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