Page 129 of Avalon Tower
Raphael glances at me and raises his eyebrows, trying to ascertain that I’m okay.
My mind is still chaotic, bits and pieces of it cluttered with the guard’s thoughts. But I give him the thumbs-up and pull the knife from my boot. Raphael unsheathes his sword, and we both creep deeper into the front hall toward a heavy set of double doors. By now, we’ve already mapped the house as best as we could by watching it through the windows.
We chose our moment carefully—ten at night. At this time, there’s a changeover in the staff between the evening crew and the late-night shift. There’s still a cook in the kitchen, and Caradoc’s personal maid, who is hopefully in her quarters.
As I think about her, I get a flash of memory—kissing her passionately, hidden together in the pantry. She’s human, and I’m Fey…not my memory, but one that belongs to Silver Fox. It makes me dizzy, and I have to stop, just for a moment. Raphael glances back at me, and I motion for him to go on.
The door opens smoothly, and the stairs beyond are thankfully stone, not creaking wood. No sign of the cook or the maid, but I still can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching and hearing us. That the mansion itself knows someone has intruded.
As we climb the stairs, the humming grows louder, and the veil mage’s magic buzzes over my skin. On the second floor, Raphael turns toward the door of the library. But I grab his arm and shake my head. I can hear the humming coming from the mage’s bedroom.
Raphael turns, and I follow behind him. As he touches the door handle, he glances at me. My mind roars with fear.
I nod to him, and he flings the door open. He storms inside, and I rush in behind him.
The walls of the bedroom are painted a deep maroon flecked with black, like a rotting rose. Caradoc stands by the window with his back to us. From here, he’s watching the fire.
Something’s wrong. I should have noticed it earlier. The humming, just a little too loud. And it surrounds us now.
I glance up.
The entire ceiling shimmers—a misty veil arching over us. A trap. As Caradoc turns toward us, he lets the veil drop.
Cold fear crashes over me, and I summon my Sentinel powers. I hurl them into the deadly mist around us, but it’s a fraction too late for Raphael. Tendrils of the mist reach him, and he stumbles and falls, his sword clattering on the floor.
Cold panic rakes its claws through me.
My magic dissolves most of the veil, but it’s still clinging to Raphael, wrapping around his chest. I kneel by his side, using all of my mental energy to pull the magic away from him, one strand at a time. If any of it pierces his heart or his skull, he’s gone.
I hear Caradoc’s footsteps behind me, and as I glance back at him, he clamps his hands around my throat. His fingers tighten, and he knocks me over, pressing his knees against my chest. I struggle, desperately trying to breathe.
Frantically, I try to keep my mind on Raphael, feeling for the magic that surrounds him. All my focus is intent on the wisps of pearly death snaking around his body. My vision goes dark, starry. I rip the last strands of veil magic off him.
Time slows down.
My head spins as Caradoc’s iron fingers squeeze, crushing my throat. I strike at his arms as hard as I can, and his fingers loosen. I take a deep, ragged breath, but he’s still on top of me, reaching again for my neck.
I use my magic to creep into his thoughts. I will take over his mind, make him hurl himself out the window. But as soon as I enter his thoughts, I realize how impossible that is. Caradoc’s mind isn’t simple like Wrythe’s or Silver Fox’s. In fact, I can hardly make sense of his mind at all. He is hundreds of years old, maybe a thousand. He’s seen empires rise and fall, had seventeen wives and innumerable lovers. He doesn’t care for love or money or power. His thoughts are mazelike, a tangle. Trying to control him is like trying to swim up a waterfall.
Instead, I find myself getting lost. Swallowed. Panicking, I try to pull away, but I can’t find my way back to being Nia. I am becoming a part of Caradoc, and I can’t feel the pain of my own suffocation anymore.
Because now, I’m seeing what he knows.
About the invasion.
Images and memories flit through my brain too quickly for me to process properly. There’s a training academy. Fey herbalists walking between Fey soldiers lying on beds. A dragon being injected with something and roaring with pain. A large Fey army marching with dragon banners. A tincture created by Fey alchemists. A brew of strange herbs mixed with…iron.
That’s what Auberon has been working on. Iron weapons stopped their army all those years ago, but the tincture will make them immune. He’s creating a Fey army impervious to its effects.
Iron is the only way humans have held the Fey back. Without it, they’ll burn through humanity like wildfire, destroying everything in their way. We knew the Fey were planning something, that we needed to stop them, but we didn’t realize we were already too late.
We wanted to destroy the veil, but it doesn’t matter. The Fey were about to drop it themselves. They’re going to send their army over the border.
Caradoc was at the meetings when they planned the invasion; he’s seen the map spread out on a table, marked where the forces will enter. I hear the plan for the fake assault on southern France—the one everyone would expect.
But that’s not the real attack.
Auberon is headed for England.