Page 16 of Vale of Dreams

He opens his eyes and clamps his hand into a fist, crushing it. The rest of the moths scatter, flitting away from him. He opens his hand again, and my breath hitches. On his palm is a jeweled silver moth, its wings decorated with tiny, sparkling stones.

“Take it,” he says.

I take it from his palm, a lifeless moth made of metal.

“This moth will be my ears and my eyes. Carry it into Auberon’s castle. Once it’s inside, I will be able to see and hear everything that goes on in the fortress. I will be able to find your Raphael. And the moment I find him, the moth will lead you to him.”

“You make it sound almost easy.”

“It will not be easy. Steer clear of Auberon—that goes without saying. And his dark-eyed son, too. The Dream Stalker is dangerous, one of the few remaining with primal powers.”

“What are his powers, besides invading people’s dreams?” I can’t take my eyes off the little creature in my hand.

“Just stay away from him and focus on the moth.”

“How do I get into the fortress? Castle Perillos is surrounded by towering walls.”

“The portal will take you straight into the castle’s garden. You won’t need to get past the walls—you’ll already be inside them. Once you’re in, it’s not heavily guarded. There are hundreds of entrances into the castle itself. I don’t know whether any of the doors to the towers will be open, so you may have to get creative.”

“How do we open the portal?”

Mordred narrows his pale blue eyes. “You don’t need to worry about that. Follow me, do what I say; that’s all you need to know.”

Spoken like a true parent. And incredibly, this revenge-obsessed weirdo might actually be the better parent of the two.

“Come with me.” He turns, stalking across the hall.

I follow him through a heavy set of oak doors. As I step outside again, the cold wind stings my cheeks. He leads me into a vast garden. Large stone dolmens rise from the earth like an overgrown Stonehenge in the moonlight. They are carved with spirals that seem to circle endlessly, like obsessive thoughts spinning back in time. They remind me of Mordred.

He stops before the stones and nods at them. “Walk through the ley portal. Surely you can see it.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. A faint buzzing sound thickens in the air like the hum that emanated from the Fey veil. I concentrate on my powers, summoning my Sentinel magic, and darkness spreads between the stones, a black tear in the landscape, as if some unknown hand had ripped a fragment of reality, leaving this hole in its wake.

I stare at it, my jaw dropping.

“These ring stones are a bridge between worlds,” Mordred says. “There are numerous gateways to Brocéliande and other magical realms in Avalon through our carved stones. But since Brocéliande closed its borders, only a Sentinel or someone with a key can pass through this portal.”

“Just Sentinels?” My heart sinks. My mind was already spinning with the possibility of unleashing dozens of Avalon agents directly into Auberon’s castle. We’d end the war within a day.

“A Sentinel can forge the path between worlds and walk through it.”

I grip the little metallic moth, then slide it into my damp coat pocket. “Auberon has his soldiers walk through portals that he opens from Brocéliande, but they’ve got keys.”

His golden eyes flick up to the full moon. “And I have no idea how to make them, so you’ll need to steal one of theirs if you want to get your lover out of Brocéliande. Now, are we going to talk all night, or are you going?”

I pull my cloak tightly around me. “Do I look like I could blend in there? I wasn’t expecting to go right in tonight.”

He narrows his eyes. “You look a mess. You can’t be seen wearing that.”

He touches the collar of my coat, and his magic thrums over me again. I look down to see my damp wool coat transform into a black gown with a lacy décolletage and a low-slung silver belt. It even has discreet pockets, and when I slide my hand inside one of them, I find the bejeweled moth tucked inside, along with my inhaler. My dagger is still wrapped around my waist, sheathed in dark leather that matches the dress.

I look up into his haunted golden eyes. “How many powers do you have, exactly? Is it true that your diametric powers are what drove you to massacre those in Lothian Tower?”

“Is that the story they’re telling? Diametric powers? Absolute nonsense. The Pendragons are fucking idiots.” He casts a critical eye over me. “Right. The dress looks good. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about your stunted height. I can fix the deformed ears, though.”

“Deformed?”

“Human.” Frowning, he brushes a fingertip over the top of my ears, and I feel the tingle of glamour magic whispering over my ears.

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