Page 59 of Vale of Dreams

She relaxes, smiling at me. “I’ve heard it’s connected to him. My daughter says His Highness controls the weather with his moods. Can you imagine that? All grown up now, she is, but she still doesn’t know her arse from her elbow.” She tuts, shaking her head.

“I haven’t heard that one.”

“Well, I told her nah, that’s nonsense. First of all, the prince is never in a good mood, between you and me. Second, that’s not how his magic works, is it? It’s the Dream Stalk…you know. Dreams. And his tongue does magic things. Runs in the royal family, that one. The Royal House of Morgan. Magic tongues.”

“His tongue—what?”

She nods vigorously. “He can cast enchantments with his tongue. Or is it his saliva? Haven’t seen it, of course. It’s not like I often get to see the prince’s tongue. And he rarely does it, I suppose. He’s more into killing. No offense.”

“None taken.”

She sets out my clothes as she talks. “Anyway, my daughter has all sorts of silly ideas. Listens to whatever the cook says because she saw the cook’s bare chest once, and she can’t stop thinking about his muscles. I said to her, Aela, I said, half the men in in Brocéliande have perfect chests. We’re Fey. It’s not like we’re human. We have cheekbones too, you know? Not like humans. Do you know what they look like? I’ve seen one in a picture book. They’re like a bloated toe with a face drawn on. Like a bowl of quince sauce with eyes. That’s not us Fey. And do you know what else? I once caught the cook fondling the uncooked bread dough in a way that I would call…well, I would call it unsavory. I really would, with the look he had on his face. The way he violated that dough with his hands…and do you know what that lump of uncooked dough reminded me of? A human face, really. So, that’s what he fancies, I imagine. Humans. Imagine that.” She tuts and shakes her head, and a corkscrew curl dangles before her eyes.

I let her words wash over me as I sip from the tea. At first, Aisling’s frequent word barrages made me dizzy. But slowly, I’d grown accustomed to them, until they became a crucial part of my morning wake-up process. Now, along with the strong tea, her stream of consciousness jump-starts my brain.

She sets out hot water next to my bed for me to wash my face and fluffs a fresh towel. “…and she told me, that’s not a sea dragon, that’s a whale. Can you imagine that, Nia? A grown woman talking about whales and other such myths? I’ll go get your breakfast, my lady. Where will you be eating today?”

“I think I’ll take breakfast down the hall at the balcony of the Barenton Tower in twenty minutes.”

“Very well, my lady. I’ll set it out there. There will be an execution today, so that’s exciting.”

My heart speeds up. “Of whom?”

She smiles brightly. “Traitors. Spies. People secretly working with the humans, even after everything they did to us. I won’t be sorry to see them dealt with. We’re lucky we have the King’s Watch looking out for us. The humans and the demi-Fey caused the famine, you know.”

I swallow hard, mastering control over my expression. “Oh. Did they find actual demi-Fey? How horrifying.”

She shakes her head. “Gods, I hope not. I think Fey traitors. Who knows what the humans are paying them for their treachery? Get dressed, then. I’ll bring your breakfast to the balcony.”

She bustles out of the room.

I force myself out of bed at last and spend a few minutes washing in the sun-drenched bathroom. I pull on the dress Aisling left for me—a luxurious material, periwinkle with a pale silver bodice and bell sleeves. Then I sit down by the desk and pull a blank piece of paper from a drawer. I pour myself another cup of tea. Carefully, I write a coded message, summarizing everything I observed yesterday. I detail the new guard that joined the roster, the section in the eastern wall overgrown with vines, Count Cian’s affair with his butler, and the change in the patrol route. Any detail I can think of to help plan the assassination.

Sipping my tea, I write in tiny letters, using a code that should be unbreakable, so I’m not doing this as quickly as I’d like. My encryption skills are still quite basic since I missed most of those classes during training. When I’m done writing, I finish the tea, then roll the paper to slide it up my dress sleeve. I pull on a blue cloak over my dress.

The moment I open the door, my shoulders tense a little. I never know when someone might be watching me here. As I stride through the empty halls, I keep scanning for movement, but I don’t see anyone. Just the morning light washing over the stone floor, the cracks greened with moss, and the flowers that grow around the leaded windows—primrose and foxglove. I turn a corner, and a servant passes me carrying a fresh bouquet of flowers. He bows slightly as I pass.

When I peer out the window, my heart skips a beat. I take a step closer to the window, my breath clouding the glass. There, far below me, is a stone courtyard, where a large wooden platform has been set up. Ten metal blocks have been arranged on top of it, with curved indentations where necks will lie. My blood goes cold. Are these for real spies working with Avalon Tower?

Goosebumps spread over my skin.

I walk on, and reaching the balcony, I step out into the wintry air, hundreds of feet above the snow-dusted earth. My gaze flicks over the walls. Most of the city of Corbinelle spreads out to the west of here, so the view to the east is one of a landscape of frozen trees. The Paimpont River carves through the forest, and it widens to a lake with a metallic gleam, with mist coiling from its surface. It’s serene today—the air chilly and crisp, the sunlight glinting off the snow like diamonds. I drop into a chair, with a heated brazier just by my side, warming the air. When my gaze flicks to the lake, I feel a sharp pang of homesickness for Avalon Tower.

The door creaks open behind me, and Aisling steps onto the balcony. She slides a tray onto the table in front of me—one with hot bread, tea, mead, and strawberries. “Here you are, my lady. I had the cook make more of those rosemary-seasoned rolls that you like. I kept an eye on him this time, made sure he wasn’t doing anything untoward with the dough. You know, when I was a little girl, I used to dream about a giant bread roll the size of a house that I could live in.”

“Oh?”

She stares out at the landscape. “I can see why you like this spot. It really is the most beautiful place in the castle.”

“And it faces east,” I say with a smile. “So sometimes, I think I can almost see my village from here.”

“You poor thing. You must miss it so much.”

“Oh, but I’m so lucky to be here, Aisling.” Smiling, I start to butter one of the rolls.

Of course, the real reason for this spot isn’t the gorgeous view or my supposed yearning for my home in Lauron. It’s that from the Barenton balcony, I can see the main gate and one of the patrol routes. From this vantage point, I can make notes of everyone coming and going, and the different guards and their habits. On top of that, one of Auberon’s tower bedroom windows is visible from here. So far, I’ve glimpsed him twice. All these things go into my daily reports for Avalon Tower.

By now, I’ve mapped every nook and cranny in the fortress—except for the prince’s and the king’s chambers. Mistress or not, I’m not allowed into either of their bedrooms, and I desperately need to find a way in.

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