Page 127 of Avalon Tower
Suddenly, I feel as if someone had poured cold water over me. We’ve been in here for a full week—watching Caradoc, yes, but also very much enjoying every night when Raphael made it his mission to give me as much pleasure as possible. Strangely, this had started to feel like a real vacation, a trip for pleasure. But that’s not reality, and all the warmth drains out of me.
What would happen if we had to slit our throats? Would he do it for me?
This is why love is not allowed: neither of us would want the other to die. And sometimes, agents have to.
This also has me wondering if I should have stayed at home in the bookstore, where I was safe. But I suppose a life suffocated by boredom and isolation isn’t much of a life at all.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“The other task forces are stumped as well. All the veil mages are very closely protected in mansions warded with magic. They rarely leave unless they’re surrounded by guards. Freya and Serana managed to sneak to the inner perimeter of their target’s mansion but couldn’t get through the wards.”
“Maybe a Sentinel can.”
He nods. “There’s one more thing. Tana reported that our time is growing short. If we don’t act soon, we will all die.”
Tana and her dire proclamations. Blood roars in my ears. “Time to act, then.”
“Tonight. We’ll use the darkness to our advantage.” His jaw clenches. “And yet, I just want to keep you in here, where you’re safe, and not let you get anywhere near the Fey. But that’s not why we’re here, is it?”
I let out a long, slow breath. “Raphael, this is what I’ve trained for.”
CHAPTER 43
Nightfall has wrapped the town in darkness.
I stand inside our cottage, peering through a window into the street. Raphael is out there, and I’m mentally willing him not to get caught.
My heart speeds up, and I check my knives again—one in my boot, one hidden in a secret sheath within my sleeve, one strapped to my back. I sharpened all of them before we left, even though they were already sharp enough. Still, the ritual helped calm me. Apparently, I’ve become the sort of person who soothes herself by sharpening blades. The Nia of six months ago—the one who worked in a bookstore—would be alarmed by this transformation.
Caradoc’s mansion and its enormous walls dwarf a little neighboring cottage, one very much like this one. One that could easily go unnoticed next to such a palatial home.
Except unlike this one, the little cottage across the street is now on fire. Flames climb the walls—Raphael’s skillful work, a dancing scarlet and orange blaze against the shadows.
In front of the mansion gates, Silver Fox finally notices the smoke coiling into the air. “Fire! Fire!” he shouts in Fey, running back toward the mansion.
I stare at the smoke outside, which is thickening into a heavy black cloud. Even inside and at this distance, my eyes are starting to tear up. This small town has no fire station and not a fire hydrant in sight. Pandemonium is about to erupt on this street.
More shouts ring through the air. This is my moment.
I step outside, blinking the smoke out of my eyes. A breeze ripples over my skin, thick with ash.
Just as we planned, the street fills up with people running for buckets of water to douse the flames. Silver Fox runs out from the front gate, carrying a fire extinguisher that looks comically small, given both the size of his body and the ferocity of the blaze. I’m genuinely impressed that Raphael was able to stoke such an intense fire so quickly.
Someone has dragged a stack of large tin fire buckets into the road. I grab one and carry it inside to fill it with water at the cottage sink. Once it’s full, I drag it outside again. The weight of it tugs on my arm, and I heave it across the street toward Rosy Cheeks, screaming at him in Fey to help before the whole neighborhood burns down.
He glowers at me, unwilling to leave his post. I lift the bucket toward him, then falter, the bucket nearly tumbling from my hands. I gasp at the guard. “At least help me carry it,” I shout. “It’s too heavy.”
“Fine.” He takes a step closer, gripping the bucket in one hand, and we shuffle along. From the corner of my eye, I see Raphael move behind us, a shadow in the night. I let go of the heavy bucket, and the weight of it makes Rosy Cheeks stumble. From behind us, Raphael hits the guard’s head with the pommel of his sword, and the guard crumples. Raphael sheathes his weapon, and we grab the unconscious guard, dragging him through the gate. In the chaotic night, no one notices a thing.
Once inside, we drag the guard between the rose bushes and the towering stone wall. The shadows envelop him.
“What if he wakes up?” I whisper.
“We’re not going to be here that long,” Raphael says.
We hurry to the front door. As soon as I get closer, I can sense the unseen ward, pushing us away. But this magic feels very different from the veil. I hear no hum, and when I focus, I can’t sense the same tangled weave of energy. Faintly, I can feel its power thrum over my skin, raising goosebumps on my body.
“Can you disrupt it?” Raphael asks.