Page 6 of Avalon Tower

Fear drags its claws though my chest. Leila was right.

CHAPTER 2

We’re just out of sight of the café’s outdoor tables, and there’s another lane off to the left. The angry woman is staring at us, waiting for an answer.

I glance at the little boy again, who looks up at me with big brown eyes.

I could turn and run, but two things stop me. One is purely selfish. I’ve already been seen with them, and Jules suspects me entirely on the basis that he thinks I’m too cute to be human.

But the other reason is that I cannot stomach the thought of this little boy becoming another pool of blood.

I smile and wave at the woman who’s staring at us from the doorway. “Tour group!” I yell in French. “Fey themed. Pretty good costumes, right?” I give her a cheerful smile, then turn back to the group. “Bonjour à tout le monde!” I call out to the haggard demi-Fey, beckoning them toward the road that cuts off to the left. “Nous pouvons commencer la visite. Bienvenue à la ville frontière magique!”

I grin at them, and they all stare at me, fear etched on their faces. I just told them that we could start the tour and welcomed them to the magical border town. They don’t seem to understand what I’m trying to do.

“On the beach,” I continue in French, “we will have a view of the incredible veil, the barrier to the Fey kingdom. Until fifteen years ago, most people didn’t even know they existed. They lived in another dimension, one created by magic long ago—Brocéliende, the Fey realm. Auberon’s own kingdom was withering, so they invaded our dimension, and he occupied France for more territory. Now, the Fey have two regions: Brocéliende in the other dimension, and Fey France in our world. The French fought back valiantly, preserving some of the south.”

The stone road gives way to hot, white sand.

At least on the beach, all the bare feet will make sense.

I give a speech that makes war sound dramatic and heroic. The truth is, of course, horrific, rife with senseless deaths and violence. But tour guides don’t dwell on that. War tourism is supposed to be fun. I frantically gesture for them to follow me to the beach, over sand and short shrubs that smell like thyme. When they don’t follow, I grab the blonde woman by the hand and pull her along. The others reluctantly shuffle after her.

They all look so thin, so terrorized. What happened to them in the Fey realm? And what will happen to me if someone decides I’m one of them?

“After the peace talks,” I go on, “King Auberon promised not to claim any more territory, and we have now established the status quo.” Lowering my voice, I quickly ask, “Est-ce que quelqu’un parle français?” I switch to English. “Does anyone here speak English?”

Blank stares.

Maybe I should try the Fey language? “Mishe-hu medaber áit seo Fey?”

“Stop trying to speak in Fey,” one of the women whispers in English. Her eyes are strangely bright, an otherworldly violet. “I understand English. Your Fey pronunciation is painful.”

Ouch. I’ve been trying to learn from a book, but the pronunciation was never clear on the page.

“Okay,” I answer softly, beckoning them closer. “Listen, you all need to get off the streets. Now.”

“Why would you say that?” She flicks her hair behind her shoulder in what looks like an attempt at a casual gesture. “We’re ordinary English citizens on holiday.” Her Fey accent makes every word twirl beautifully, and she doesn’t sound remotely English.

“Sure,” I say dryly. “Listen, anyone can see what you are.” Someone in the group gasps, and the violet-eyed woman turns to run. I grab her by the arm. “No! Don’t run. It will only call attention to you.”

Her lower lip juts out. “Are you an agent?”

An agent? Are those the spies I heard the man talk about yesterday? The secret resistance? Sadly, I’m no hero. “No. I’m not an agent. My name is Nia. What’s yours?”

She hesitates for a few seconds, looking as if she regrets her earlier words. Finally, she sighs. “I’m Aleina. We were supposed to meet a contact, but he never showed up. He had a secret way through the city to the docks. Disguises. Counterfeit passports. Weapons to protect ourselves. He has everything we need. But he’s not here.”

“I don’t have those things.”

“Can you protect us if we get attacked?” she asks desperately.

If we were attacked, the only thing I could do would be to distract the attackers with a terrible Fey accent. “Um…no.”

“Then you can’t help us.” Her eyes mist with tears. Up close, I see that there are flecks of gold in the violet of her pupils. Her fingers are delicate. Even with her ears covered by her black hair, these are telltale marks of a demi-Fey. “I’ll have to try to summon help.” She lifts the blue jewel.

“Summon?” I glance at the crystal. It seems to pulse with an unearthly light. “What does that do?”

“It’s a magical cry for help,” she says, her voice tight. “Once I break it, it’ll erupt with a very loud noise and bright light. It might summon the resistance here. It’s a last resort.” She tugs at the pendant.