Page 24 of Avalon Tower
“Lucky for me,” she goes on, “you’re unlikely to survive even the first weeks of training. It’s brutal and dangerous, and the Pendragons will cut you down in a heartbeat. You’ll be dead before you can betray us.”
She releases me, and I gasp for breath, my hands going to my bruised throat. Little does she know, Raphael thinks I’m an idiot, but something tells me I’m better off if she believes someone powerful is on my side.
“If you don’t want me here, then why the hell did you rip up my passport?” I croak.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d let you leave, now that you can expose our location?” She’s still boxing me in. “You’re not leaving. And if I get even the faintest hint that you’re going to pull another stunt like threatening to inform on us, I will end your life. Maybe your dinner will be poisoned. Maybe I’ll slit your throat in your sleep. Maybe I’ll simply bash your pretty little head against a rock. Understood?”
She hurries away into the narrow streets, and as much as I have no desire to follow her, I have no choice. Most of my money is in the spa hotel in France. I no longer have my passport. Without the help of someone powerful, I’m stuck in Camelot.
I touch my neck, wincing as I catch up to the others.
Raphael apparently didn’t see a thing. He looks relaxed as he leads us through a narrow network of cobbled streets. Timber and brick buildings nestle on either side of the lanes, and smoke coils from chimneys above us.
Bloodstained and tattered, with dirt smeared on the back of my dress, I look like one of the fugitives I just rescued. Except here, in Camelot, no one notices. Who are all these people?
It’s not long before the alley opens up to a large thoroughfare, where horse-drawn carriages race over the stones. Is this really where I live now? Camelot? I have no idea how long I’ll be here, or how I’d get out if I had to. Mom will miss me bitterly. Or at least, she’ll miss that I bring home money and pay the rent. What on earth is she going to do without me? I guess maybe it’s time she figures that out. And in any case, it doesn’t seem like I have much of an option to get out of this.
No more bookstore. No more one-bedroom apartment shared with Mom as she binges coke and alcohol. A distinct silver lining.
We walk down a gently sloping hill toward the castle that looms over the lake of Avalon. From here, I can see that Avalon Tower is a vast construction, with two sets of walls surrounding a number of central buildings. Raphael leads us to a gatehouse set into one of the walls. He still hasn’t uttered a word to me. I suppose we did declare our hatred for one another.
A line of guards stands outside the gatehouse, their smart red cloaks vibrant against the stone and oak. As Raphael marches up to the gate, the soldiers part without a word, like leaves drifting on a lake. Above the arched door, the words Avalon Torr are carved in the weathered stone. Old English, I think. That carving must be over a thousand years old.
The heavy oak door groans open, and I step across the threshold. A strange thrill flutters over my skin. This place feels important—ancient, powerful.
Across the courtyard, a central castle stands on a gently rising hill. It’s made of ivory stone, and its spires loom over us, four stories high. The sight makes me dizzy, and, unbidden, a nursery rhyme floats through my thoughts: Avalon Tower, the Midnight hour, bury his head in the raven’s bower…
Strange rhyme, definitely not something Mom would sing to me. Maybe a nanny?
Tana yawns and points at the ivory castle. “That’s Merlin’s Tower, and it’s sort of the central location. Offices, the dining hall, the training halls. A top floor that none of us are allowed to visit. The dorms are in the other towers.”
Viviane is waiting for me at the door to Merlin’s Tower. She still looks furious, and Raphael is already inside. “Are you coming?”
“Sorry!” Tana says, touching my arm. “I’m bloody starving. I’ll meet you for breakfast in a few, yeah?”
Tana takes off and breezes past Viviane, Into the tower. I hurry up the stairs after her. Viviane tuts and opens the door, and we cross into a vaulted stone hall. Candles in sconces illuminate the stone walls and arched ceiling. Raphael peers into an office by the doorway, one crammed with books and papers, and a burning fireplace. A man with a blond beard sits at a desk. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and something around his neck that looks like a silver collar, with an opening at the front.
“Ah.” He peers at Raphael over his glasses. “Who have you brought with you, Raphael?” His booming voice echoes in the corridor. This man could be an opera singer.
I’m just relieved that everyone is speaking in English and not Fey, since my accent is apparently terrible.
“A new recruit.” Raphael glances at me for a fraction of a second. “She’s going to work with us.”
The man pulls out a large silver ring made of twisted metal, like the one he’s wearing, and hands it to Viviane. She slides it around her neck.
“Thanks,” she says. “I’m going to get out of these filthy clothes!”
I stare after her. That’s exactly what I want to do—bathe, change, sleep for ten hours—but I’m still here with Raphael.
When I turn back to him, I see that he’s wearing a similar collar, only in gold.
“Did you find the fugitives?” the bearded man asks.
“Most of them,” says Raphael. “But they said their contact wasn’t waiting for them. Amon, do you have any idea what happened? Their contact, Leia, was supposed to—”
“She’s dead,” Amon said. “The Fey forces caught her. And Alix. And Rein.”
Silence stretches out. Then Raphael whispers, “Damn. We lost three crew members to a sea serpent attack.” He runs a hand through his hair. “The Fey must have found out about the exfiltration op.”