Page 60 of Vale of Dreams

Even more worrying, I’ve found no information about the war in Scotland. No mention of the Fey plans I’m supposed to uncover. Every day, thousands are dying in that war, and I can’t learn a thing. We’re running out of time.

“Well, enjoy your breakfast,” Aisling chirps, and she leaves me alone on the balcony.

As I eat, I watch the guard shift change before the open gatehouse doors. I watch closely as a merchant passes through. While the guards are changing, they don’t inspect him as they usually do.

Then I tense as a familiar figure strides along one of the lower bridges between the towers. He’s so far away, I nearly miss him, but Talan has a strange way of catching the eye, as if he sucks in all the light around him. I stare as he descends a stairwell, heading for the courtyard, black cloak trailing behind him.

What’s he doing up at this hour?

He crosses the courtyard, walking purposefully to a spot by the wall that I’ve already noted, one hidden by brambles and hedges. With the morning sun coming from the east, that area is cast in shadow. No one in the courtyard would see him as he stands there, waiting.

And it doesn’t take long for me to see who he’s waiting for.

A rider comes through the gate, dressed in the black jacket of a messenger—one of dozens that go through the fortress every day. He seems to be riding toward the closest stables, but he’s not taking the most direct route. And as he passes Talan, he discreetly tosses a package to him. No, not a package—a crimson envelope. Talan slides it into his black cloak and stalks back toward the castle.

Why would a prince need to receive secret messages? Part of his plot against the king, I suppose.

I frown. Whatever he is up to, it is definitely worth reporting back to Avalon Tower.

I rise and brush the crumbs from my clothes.

With my new information stored away, I take the spiral stairs all the way down to the lowest level of the castle. A guard waits at the door, he follows me as I step into the courtyard.

My skin prickles. Whenever I leave the palace, someone follows me. Is it because Talan suspects me of lying, or is he trying to protect his secret weapon against the king?

I step outside, my boots crunching in the crisp snow. As I cross a hedge, I pretend to stumble. I let the parchment in my sleeve drop into my palm and quickly shove it under the thorny hedge. Then I rise, laughing awkwardly and brushing the snow from my cloak. I keep walking. One of Nivene’s people will pick up the message and get it to her, and she’ll take it to Avalon tonight.

As I turn back toward the castle, something shiny draws my eye, glinting in the sun.

Mordred’s silver moth flutters over the snow in plain sight as I watch it, then flies away.

I pull my cloak more tightly around my shoulders.

My father wants to see me.

CHAPTER 21

Iwait until the middle of the night to use the portal, slipping through the shadows of the courtyard. I’ve already figured out that when the gatehouse guards are changing shifts, they are the most distracted.

Under the starlight, I hurry over the cold earth, the icy wind nipping at my cheeks. I glance back at the castle, where almost all the lights are dark. Shadows pool in the empty courtyard. I hurry past the large willow tree to the portal’s jagged stones. Glancing around me, I don’t see a single person—just the vast expanse of wall and the vines climbing the stones, rustling in the wind.

Taking a deep breath, I step closer to the portal, its magic already vibrating over my body. A dark tear opens before me, and I plunge into it. I fall to the ground, the cold earth biting into my palms and my knees.

Looking up, I see Mordred standing before me, surrounded by the towering, carved dolmens of Avalon. Moonlight shines off his spiky crown. “There she is, the heir to the House of Morgan. Can you feel the heft of your ancient crown yet, weighing down your skull?”

I stand, brushing myself off. “I hope this is important. Nothing will give my cover away like popping in and out of a portal to chat to Auberon’s mortal enemy.”

“How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child…”

“You’ve read Shakespeare?”

“Mmm. The first thing I do when a hundred years rolls around and I get my single day of freedom is to get my hands on as many books as possible.”

“And the next thing you do is find the comfort of an American woman visiting England?”

“Something like that. And speaking of comfort, are you enjoying life in Castle Perillos? It looks luxurious to me. Those fine clothes. The banquet with dancing. Breakfast on the balcony. You’ll want to stay longer, I wager.”

When he said the words banquet with dancing, a slight edge slid through his soft tone.

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