Page 11 of Vale of Dreams

My eyebrows shoot up. “Tana, I swear, if you start spreading goat entrails on your bed, I’m transferring rooms.”

A knock sounds at the door, and I’m relieved by the interruption. Goat entrails?

“Yeah?” I call out.

“It’s me.” A deep voice pierces the door.

Darius. I hurry to the door and yank it open.

He smiles from the doorway, holding a dinner tray with a silver dome. He saunters in, sets the tray on a desk, and gives me a hug. “I missed you ladies.”

“I thought you were in Scotland!” I say, stepping back.

Serana walks over and grabs him in an aggressive bear hug.

“Serana, you’re crushing me,” he squawks, disentangling himself. Going to the bed, he leans over and kisses Tana on the cheek. “I was in Scotland. They sent me here to report to command and get some supplies. But I have to return in two days.”

“How is it there?” Serana asks.

He frowns. “Bad. We’re being pushed back. I don’t know how much longer we can hang on. There’s been talk about retreating to Ireland. They’re even worried Auberon could breach Camelot’s magical defenses and destroy Avalon Tower. The prophecy of Queen Morgan could happen in our lifetimes.”

A sharp silence fills the room, and a chill ripples over my skin. “I’m sure that’s not the case.”

“Why?” says Darius.

It’s very hard to keep this secret from them.

I clear my throat, eying the tray. “Just hopeful. Did you bring dinner?”

“Oh. I didn’t want to eat in the dining hall,” he says. “It’s full of the fucking Iron Legion.”

“It’s really hostile, isn’t it?” says Tana.

He pulls the dome off the tray. “Well, I brought extra.”

Underneath, there’s a basket of fresh bread rolls with steam pouring off them and a plate full of sliced blue cheese.

“Is that Stilton?” Serana asks, already reaching for it.

“Stop!” Tana leaps from her bed. “Stilton is almost as good as goat entrails.”

“You’re wasted here,” I say. “You should be in marketing. ‘Stilton: almost as good as goat entrails.’”

Tana grabs the plate, staring at it. “I don’t eat it, but I can see the future in cheese. Especially if it’s ripe like this.”

“I’m just going to have a little nibble.” Serana grabs a piece and pops it in her mouth.

“Serana!” Tana yanks the cheese plate away. “You just ate the fate of the Italian military.”

Serana’s eyes widen guiltily. “Sorry.”

Darius hands Serana a roll. “Have some bread.”

Tana stares at the cheese as she carries it to her bed. “It’s the same as the cards. The war cannot be won here. It must be won in Brocéliande. But when I try to find the way there, it just shows the same figure, and I can’t make any sense of it.”

Dread chases down my spine. I think I already know who the figure is, a man who has lived alone for centuries, twisted with fantasies of revenge.

“What figure is that?” Darius asks.

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