Page 4 of Vale of Dreams

She raises her hands in despair. “Fine! I’ll try to take it off without cutting his hand, okay? But I might have to break one of his fingers. Does that offend your sensibilities, or would that be okay?”

The memory of Raphael’s beautiful face pushed Adoran’s thoughts from my mind, clearing away the cobwebs.

“Do it now.” I quickly step away, the thread between Adoran and me still too fresh for me to watch.

I hear Serana grunt, and after a few seconds, she joins me.

She rolls her eyes when I look at her. “He’ll be okay, but he’ll need a healer for that thumb. Happy, Nia?”

“Delighted.”

She opens her palm, holding the bracelet, and blood streaks her fingers. “This is it. We have it.”

“Check it for writing,” Tana says. “The location and time for the portal should be inscribed on the key.”

Serana points to some runes etched inside the bracelet. “There. Um. It says…uh…this is definitely Neh, and that letter is Moh…”

I sigh and hold out my hand, and she drops it in my palm.

“It says Glynn Nathan,” I say, reading the Fey runes. “That’s Saint Nectan’s Glen in northern Cornwall. And here are the dates…”

I read and reread them, my heart plunging. No, that can’t be right.

“Fuck.” Disappointment crushes my chest, and I start to wheeze, then cough. I pull out my inhaler, taking two puffs, and wait for my lungs to open again.

“What’s wrong?” Serana asks.

My eyes sting, and I close them for a moment. “The portal closed three days ago.”

“Fuck!” Serana shouts. “The key is worthless.”

She’s right. The portal is long gone. Our hope of finding our way to Brocéliande lies crushed, and I know what that means. I’ll have to do the unthinkable, an act of pure and utter desperation—madness, perhaps.

Another secret I’ll need to swallow, even from my closest friends.

I need to talk to my father.

CHAPTER 2

The salty wind toys with my hair as our boat sails up the river. Up ahead, mist twines around golden towers, and dawn tinges the fog on the lake with rosy gold. The ancient snow-frosted city of Camelot spreads out on the shore, crowned by the castle. No matter how grim the future seems, the sight sends warmth spreading thorough my chest. Avalon Tower. This feels like home.

I am still clinging to a desperate hope that someone in MI-13 will be able to use this little bracelet. The alternative, seeking help from my father, is one of the most dangerous ideas I’ve ever entertained. According to a prophecy, those of his bloodline are fated to destroy Camelot, and Mordred has already tried. Centuries ago, he left Avalon Tower full of corpses—Arthur’s and Guinevere’s included.

To protect Camelot from the prophecy, Raphael has pledged to slaughter all of Queen Morgan’s descendants. Long ago, the Fey king Auberon convinced the world that he was the true heir to Queen Morgan’s throne. And since then, that’s what everyone has believed. Raphael is sure he must kill Auberon.

But what, exactly, would my beautiful lover do if he learned that it was all a mistake? That I was the one on his kill list? Would he murder me, too, or would he sheathe his blade?

Right now, no one knows the truth about me except my father. It doesn’t matter how much I distrust the man—our secret is a thorny vine that twines us together in a poisoned garden for two. No one else can come within these walls. It’s an alliance I never wanted.

While I’m mulling this over, Serana and Tana join me at the prow to stare at the gilded docks as we approach.

“The city looks even more crowded than when we left,” Tana says.

I nod. “More fugitives coming in all the time.”

“Even if we take in only the families of the Avalon agents, we’ll be running out of space soon,” Serana says.

“We don’t have any other option. We can’t let people’s loved ones get captured. They could be used as hostages to turn agents.” Tana glances at me. “You haven’t been eating enough, have you?”

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