Page 13 of Vale of Dreams

“Once a century, he can get free for one day. Which means my mom knew him less than a day…never mind. That’s not important.”

Serana steps closer to me. “Maybe you can accept his offer. If he can’t get out again for another, what, seventy-three years, then how much harm can he do? Maybe you could just play along with his bargain.”

“Play along,” I repeat.

“You’re a bloody spy, an Avalon Steel spy,” says Darius. “Mordred is an asset. Tell him you will help him destroy Avalon Tower and then don’t. Manipulate him. Use him. Get him to open the way to Brocéliande so you can save your gorgeous boyfriend, and then, when he wants you to fulfill your part of the bargain, you just fuck off. Or kill your dad. Whatever.”

My chest unclenches. “You’re not worried about the prophecy?”

Tana sighs heavily. “What I see right now is that Mordred is the only way forward into Brocéliande. He’s not lying about being able to help you. We’ll have to worry about the prophecy later. Burn that bridge when we come to it. One thing at a time, yes?”

Serana nods. “It sounds unhinged in a way, but we are absolutely running out of options. We’re running out of time here to save Raphael. And with the way Wrythe is acting, I’m sure he doesn’t want Raphael back. In fact, I bet he actively stands in the way of Raphael’s return. I think if things keep going the way they are, he’ll be imprisoning all of us demi-Fey as corrupted traitors.”

My breath quickens. Suddenly, I’m filled with energy. I’m going to get Raphael back, and for the first time in a while, I feel electrified with optimism. “I’ll go there tonight. See what Mordred has to say.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to mention it before, but there’s a small problem,” Darius says. “There’s an Iron Legion cadet downstairs in the Astolat Atrium. He has one of those coat-of-arms badges they wear to make themselves important. This one looks like he’s on guard to see if anyone specifically from this room is going anywhere. He’s keeping watch on the demi-Fey.”

“They’ve been following me around ever since I got here,” I say.

“Same here,” Serana says.

I turn, staring out at the rainy night. “Looks like I’ll be sneaking out the back way, then.”

The window swings open. It’s not designed for climbing in and out, so I can barely squeeze my ass through the opening.

Inside the room, Darius watches me scoot out, his forehead creased with worry. The cloak I’m wearing is bunching up, and I’ve packed too much into the pockets—dagger at my side, my inhaler. A sleeker ensemble would make this easier.

I barely manage to get my hips through the gap, twisting and shimmying. Gripping the window frame, I dangle above the abyss, hail pounding against my legs. I flash Darius one last smile, then scale down the wall, slotting my toes into tiny gaps in the stones. I glance at the sheer drop below me. The earth looks impossibly far away, but there’s a stone gargoyle a few feet below our room. I make him my goal.

I lower myself and grab onto the statue. Lightning flashes, illuminating the gargoyle’s horned, leering face. The statue is slippery, and I nearly lose my footing, but soon enough, I’m hugging the gargoyle tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him. I haven’t been this close to another creature since Raphael was here.

“What are you smiling about?” I mutter at the statue.

Beneath the statue, another ledge juts out above a window, its surface covered with slippery hailstones. Slowly, carefully, I claw my way down the sheer wall, scrabbling from ledge to ledge. Darius and Serana watch my descent from above. The hail softens to rain that chills my scalp and my fingers and soaks into my wool cloak.

I climb lower and lower, avoiding the windows, clinging to the next ledge, the next gargoyle.

By the time I’m two floors below our room, I’m beyond the Astolat Atrium, safe from the lookout.

I try to open a window, prying at it with my fingernails, but it’s locked. I peer into the room through the glass. It looks like an empty office.

I glance down, my head spinning at the height. Still too far to go. If I keep going this way, I’m sure to fall. Shivering in the cold, I wrap my sodden cloak around one of my hands and wait. Lightning flashes in the sky, and my pulse races as I count. One…two…

Thunder booms, and I smash the glass with my covered knuckles. Reaching through the shattered window, I unlatch it and squeeze inside. Glass crunches as I land on the solid stone floor. Safe. I exhale in relief.

The office door opens into an empty hall, and I creep toward the closest stairwell.

I race down the steps, my feet slamming against the uneven stones of Lothian Tower.

Once, centuries ago, my father ran up these stairs, hungry for blood and hellbent on murder.

Even if Mordred is trapped on an island, the danger he exudes is unmistakable.

If I let him get in my head—if I let him manipulate me—it’s all over.

CHAPTER 5

On the misty shore of Avalon, I step out of the boat onto the wet rocks. Cold fog twines around me. Avalon’s pale stone castle looms over an icy, craggy hill. Now, in the midst of winter, the trees are barren, and a furious wind howls between their branches. At least the rain has stopped.

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