Page 6 of Vale of Dreams

We pass shops and pubs with painted signs and magical symbols. We sweep past a bakery, the mullioned windows stuffed with fresh bread, pies, and sugary marzipan confections. For the first time in ages, I actually feel hungry.

Viviane’s long legs carry her past the crowded shops at a fast clip. I wheeze, trying to keep up. My asthma worsens in the winter. I pull out my inhaler for two more puffs, and my breathing opens up a bit.

As we reach another small town square, the Knight Fall Tavern looms over it. Made of aged stone with a steeply pitched roof, the tavern almost looks like an gothic manor house. Warm light beams from lead-framed windows, and esoteric symbols glimmer on the door frame. When we get closer, I feel a familiar thrum of magic from within, a tug between my ribs.

Nivene, the other Sentinel, is in the tavern, waiting for me.

As if hearing my thoughts, Viviane turns to me before she pulls open the door. “Nivene is trying to convince me to lead a coup and throw all the Pendragons out. Which, frankly, sounds tempting at this point.”

“Of course she is.”

Avalon’s other Sentinel has no patience for diplomacy, but a war with Wrythe would be dangerous beyond belief. The Pendragon leader would probably rather help the Fey kill us all than give up his seat of power.

I step inside behind Viviane. The tavern has crooked stone walls, rough-hewn wood columns, and cozy alcoves lit by candles. At this hour, the tavern is mostly empty, apart from a man in a cloak nursing a steaming cup of coffee by the fireplace.

Across the room, I spot Nivene sitting at a round table in one of the corners, her red hair fiery in the candlelight. She beckons us closer, already impatient, and I slide into an empty seat beside her.

Viviane pulls out a chair. “Tell her the bad news, Nia.”

I shake my head. “We have the key, but the portal closed days ago.”

Nivene’s shoulders sag. “Well, fuck.”

I swallow hard. “Do either of you have another idea? Anything?”

The disappointment on their faces is answer enough.

Viviane drops her head into her hands. She’s desperate to free Raphael, too. She’s known him even longer than I have, and she depends on him. Now, she seems lost. In Avalon Tower, it can be hard to find someone you can truly trust, so when you do find that person, you want to protect them with your life.

“This just makes it all the more urgent,” Nivene hisses. “We can’t have Wrythe running the show. He’ll destroy us all. Without Raphael or Sir Kay to hold him back, he’ll take apart Avalon Tower stone by stone?—”

“I am not about to start a mutiny right now!” Viviane snarls. “It would be a gift to Auberon.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Nivene says. “Wrythe has already pitted us against each other. Pendragons and humans on one side, demi-Fey on the other. And anyway, who said mutiny? I’m simply suggesting a slight shift in the command structure.”

Viviane’s fingers tighten into fists. “You said we should arrest Wrythe and kill anyone who gets in our way.”

“I was brainstorming. If you have an issue with slaughtering the Pendragons, we can put a pin in that and circle back later. I’m open to alternatives. I mean, we have both Sentinels on our side?—”

“I don’t want to join a mutiny,” I say.

“All I’m saying is that if you both do come around to my plan, the other agents will join in,” Nivene adds, folding her arms. “If we get rid of the Pendragons, we can invest every available resource into finding another way into Brocéliande. It wouldn’t hurt to kill the people stopping us from making progress. Think about it: we kill a few in a brutal fashion, and the rest will fall in line out of fear.”

Viviane sighs and looks at me. “Okay, let’s ignore the mob boss here for a second. We need Raphael back, and your psychic friend thinks we can free him. She’s seen it in her cards. And she said specifically that it’s supposed to be you. So, if anyone has an idea, it would be you.”

My breath catches, and a storm rages in my thoughts. Mordred claims he can get me to Brocéliande. Viviane said that the knowledge of opening new portals to Brocéliande is lost to time—but Mordred is literally from the time of Merlin. He fought and survived a battle against the great wizard.

But what will my allies do if I tell them the truth? I don’t imagine they’d be into the idea of forming an alliance with Avalon Tower’s worst enemy.

Before I have a chance to form a sentence, I see Viviane’s eyes flick up over my head, and her jaw clenches.

A cold and familiar voice echoes behind me. “Well, what do we have here?”

My skin chills, and I swivel in my chair to see Wrythe Pendragon standing in the doorway, arms folded.

“Hi, Wrythe, grab a seat,” Viviane says, not missing a beat. “We were just about to order breakfast.”

“No thanks, I’ll stand.” As he walks closer, his gaze slides to me. “I see that our illustrious Sentinel has returned from her mission. But for some reason, she decided to stop in a tavern instead of reporting to me in Merlin’s Tower.”

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