Page 72 of Vale of Dreams

I do my best to look unimpressed. Bored, even. But inside, I cannot believe I’m about to go into the heart of their government, to find out exactly how the Fey operate. Nivene, Viviane, and even Mordred were right: coming here as Talan’s fake mistress was absolutely an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. None of us at Avalon Tower had any information about what went on at the High Council meetings. And after fifteen hundred years, I’m going to be the first spy to infiltrate the heart of their discussion.

I shrug and sigh. “Fine,” I say, sounding like I couldn’t give a fuck.

As I leave the room and step into the hall, my gaze lingers on the scarlet stain on the stone floor.

CHAPTER 25

Aguard follows Talan and me as we walk up the sweeping stone stairs to the High Council’s chamber. We’re arm in arm, the perfect picture of romantic love. Through his finely tailored black suit, I can feel his muscles flex as we walk. I try to think about anything other than his body and survey the hall as we approach the chamber of the High Council.

The stone walls are engraved with vinelike patterns and sigils—the raven and moon of Morgan, my grandmother. His insignia marks the stones, too—the Fey runes for an A and an M, for Auberon, House of Morgan. Auberon’s great lie carved into the castle’s stones.

But there are other symbols on the wall that were struck off the stone at some point, dashed from history. They left one, just over the large, arched door to the High Council Chamber—an E and an S entwined. Elaine of Shalott. And around it, her name and her willow branch sigil.

Talan glances at me as we approach the heavy oak door and brushes his fingertips over my arm, like he’s reassuring me. The door swings open, and we cross into a great hall.

A long table sits in the center of the hall, and the Fey rise from their ornate chairs as we walk in. There are about twenty of them, and all eyes locked on me.

Nervously, I gaze around the room. Banners with crests hang between towering windows, and torches affixed to the walls cast dancing light over the hall.

The council is comprised of Fey nobles I recognize—all men, except Arwenna. Her pale blond waves are draped over a silver gossamer dress, and she keeps her eyes steadily on the table before her.

King Auberon sits at the head of the table, glaring at us as we enter. With a brisk gesture, he motions to the foot of the table, where two chairs sit empty. “You’re late.”

I feel the metallic Fey eyes burning on me as we take our seats.

I wear a serene, slightly stupid smile, but inwardly, I’m scanning everything. This is a fucking incredible opportunity. The intel I’ll gather here will be invaluable for Avalon Tower. This is where they will be discussing military strategies. My report from this meeting could tip the balance of the battle raging in Scotland.

Auberon’s crown gleams in the torchlight, the points looking sharp as daggers. “The first order on the agenda is the war,” he says. “It is going much slower than we anticipated. The human armies, though inferior, are like cockroaches. We stamp out one battalion, two crop up somewhere else. Humans are not difficult to kill, but there are so many of them. Scuttling around like bugs.”

Arwenna stands. “We need to send the dragons in. We need to end this with fire, once and for all. Why are we using our dragons so sparingly? Send the entire fleet. Scorch the earth. We can fight a pestilence with the heat of dragon fire.”

A man in a black cap—Lord Sorchelle, I believe he’s called—clears his throat. “The humans have already demonstrated that they can maim and even kill our dragons when they put their best efforts to it. We can’t afford to keep losing?—”

“Are you scared of losing, Lord Sorchelle? And they say women don’t have the mettle to win a war,” Arwenna shouts.

The council explodes with shouting, nobles screaming over each other. Chin in hand, Talan watches it with amusement twinkling in his eyes. Finally, the king slams his palm onto the table, and the council members grow quiet.

“Your Majesty,” Lord Sorchelle says, giving Auberon a pointed look.

“We can send three dragons on a single assault,” Auberon says. “Scorch one strategic target and see how the humans handle it. If it works, we send more.”

I can’t believe my luck that I’m overhearing all of this, and my heart races. The nobles start arguing about the best strategic target. In my head, I’m compiling a list of the locations suggested.

“What about Glasgow?” someone shouts. “One of the largest cities in the country. Burn it to the ground. The humans will capitulate immediately.”

Arwenna’s eyes gleam. “Exactly.”

Talan sighs. He looks absolutely bored with this discussion. “We can always burn more cities,” he says with a shrug. “The fewer humans, the better. But if we want to pick one strategic target, it should be a military base. We should target the largest supply base the humans have. It’s stationed in southern Scotland. Demolish it, and their forces will be cut off from supplies.” He gives a laid-back smile. “Then we can burn cities at our leisure.”

“I agree with Prince Talan,” Arwenna says quickly. “Strategically, that’s much better.”

“I disagree!” someone shouts.

I look toward the speaker, surprised to see that it’s none other than Ker-Ys. I thought he was in Talan’s pocket, so what’s he doing arguing?

“We need to destroy the humans’ morale, not their supplies,” he goes on. “We need to crush their spirits.”

More shouting erupts, and Auberon slams his hand down again. “Silence. I will not have you squabbling like peasants in the High Council. I have heard your ideas, and I am ordering an attack on a strategic target. The military base.”

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