Page 70 of Avalon Tower
I was shocked to realize that yes, I really did want to see whatever it was he had to show me. Just like when I was seventeen and he’d invited me to see something at the château, and I’d jumped at the chance. Last time, such an invitation was followed by a month of me crying on the floorboards. After all, even though he didn’t call me trash, the man had still ghosted me.
Still, I wasn’t a teenager anymore, was I?
This time, I wouldn’t let my defenses down.
“What do you want to show me?” I ask.
I see a dimple in his cheek as he almost smiles. “You’ll see.”
CHAPTER 22
Raphael pulls a torch off one of the stone walls and leads me to a large painting. I frown at the image—another one of Mordred Kingslayer, wearing his spiked crown over dark curls and a long black cape. In this image, he’s beheading a blonde woman who kneels at his feet. It’s about ten feet tall and gilt framed.
“Is it true that he had diametric magic, and that’s why he murdered everyone?” I ask.
He sighs. “Maybe, but I don’t think that’s why the massacre happened. It’s the prophecy. The one about the House of Morgan.”
A chill skitters up my spine. “Auberon is descended from Queen Morgan. And the Dream Stalker, too.”
“And that’s why they need to die. They were born with the same violence running through their veins. The moment they get the chance, they’ll break in here and slaughter everyone.”
He reaches for a book on the shelf to the left of the portrait. As he pulls it out, the portrait pops open like a door, creaking. He turns back to me with an arched eyebrow. “You’re not going to tell your friends about this passageway, are you?”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Holding the torch, he leads me into a dark corridor. Light and shadow dance over the stone walls, and the narrow hall stretches on.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“To the Tower of Nimuë.”
I breathe in sharply. Tana had mentioned her name. The Lady of the Lake, like me, apparently. Tana had seen me in her tower. “Where is it?”
“It stands in the lake, with a bridge leading out to it. Nimuë was a powerful water Fey, back in the days of primal magic. As Lady of the Lake, she was an envoy between the Fey and humans. From her tower, Nimuë gave Arthur his sword, forged from Avalon Steel. And she gave Merlin and Arthur their torcs, too, from the same sacred metal.”
“So, her tower was a meeting point at one time?” I ask. “Between humans and Fey?”
“Exactly. Arthur met with the Court of Merlin at dawn and twilight. In the early days, Arthur and Merlin worshiped the gods together—gods of the rivers and oaks, and the earth itself. But the other Fey court plotted against that unity.”
“Queen Morgan,” I add. “But what happened to Merlin? Did Queen Morgan kill him?”
“No, but they say she persuaded Nimuë to do it. Merlin was in love with the Lady of the Lake. Some said they even had a child. But over time, Nimuë started to think Merlin was becoming too human, too English. Arthur’s court stopped worshiping the old gods, and Merlin went along with it. He abandoned the gods of the rivers and lake and the forest groves. Nimuë accused Merlin of giving away secrets of Fey magic to the humans who wanted their land. So, she used her magic to seal him in an oak tree, and he was never seen again. They say his ghost haunts the oak groves nearby.”
“It doesn’t seem like it helped the Fey of Avalon.” A shudder prickles over my skin. “They’re gone now. What happened to them?”
“After what Mordred Kingslayer did, the humans retaliated with a vengeance. The Fey lost the war. Utterly defeated. Queen Morgan was killed on the battlefield. Auberon was only a baby, so Mordred took him to France, and Mordred’s mages burned up their magic creating Brocéliande, the realm where the broken Fey empire could live in defeat. We think Mordred went mad after the loss and eventually ended his own life. He was already insane, of course, but it only got worse. That was all a long time ago. I imagine Auberon has probably been stewing on his revenge for ages. And the prophecy still lives.”
An old, mossy stone ceiling arches over us. Words are carved in the stones, though they are too faded for me to read. I’m enraptured by this place, my curiosity sparked. The hair rises on the back of my neck. I feel like I’m walking into the past, and part of me never wants to go back.
“Does the prophecy worry you?”
“Not if we destroy the House of Morgan. I couldn’t keep my parents safe, but I can keep this place safe.” He glances at me, his eyes gleaming in the dark. “One day, I plan to end her bloodline.”
I want to ask him more, but we're already at the end of the passage. He slides the torch into a wall bracket, and the light wavers over a small red door. It’s tiny, almost like it's made for children. Raphael bends down and pushes through. The fresh air sweeps over me as he leads me out and onto a mossy stone bridge. We’re not far from the lake’s edge, and the bridge stretches out far above the water with low stone walls on either side. The air is thick with the scent of oaks and apple trees.
I glance back at the castle, and my breath catches as I stare at the sprawling walls. The dark, glassy lake spreads out into the night, a mirror to the stars. Lake Avalon always seems smooth and calm, and the moonlight gleams off its still surface. Tonight, everything is washed in silver. The hot summer air is sultry, fragrant with the scent of apple blossoms.
As my eyes adjust to the dark, I can see old runes carved in the stone of the bridge, worn by time. Camelot is a vast and beautiful place, thousands of years old. I can’t quite believe I’m living on the bones of so much history.