Page 74 of Avalon Tower
Seasickness rises in my chest, and I swallow the nausea. I pull my gaze up, trying to look for something approximating a horizon. My gaze settles on Raphael’s large back as he pulls at the oars. Freya guides him and Viviane from the bow as they row.
Raphael turns to look back at me. “Are you ready, Nia?” I can hardly hear his voice over the buzz of the veil.
“Yeah,” I lie.
Ignoring the nausea, I focus, blocking out every one of my fears, the memory of Raphael’s lips on mine, and the discomfort of the wooden seat I’ve been perched on for hours. Inhaling the marine air, I look inward. For those few seconds, I almost feel like I’m back in Raphael’s study, focusing on the practice veil.
My two powers mingle together, bloodred and pale violet. I focus on the scarlet, the slow and deep magic that can take us through the veil. With a long exhale, I envision the red magic as a ravenous beast consuming the violet. The mist’s buzz around me goes quiet.
“Now,” I say hoarsely.
Raphael and Viviane pull hard at the oars. Usually, as soon as I stop the veil, everyone just rides as fast as they can through it before I lose focus. In this instance, we can’t race that quickly. Despite their swift rowing, we seem to move at a snail’s pace, the waves and currents pulling us left and right. I clench my teeth, forcing myself to block out everything except the slow, pulsing magic that whorls inside my chest.
The bow of the boat plunges into the misty veil, and the fog envelops us. I can’t even see them anymore, only the sound of the oars as they strike the water. Every time they plunge into the sea, bioluminescent light flickers around them and spirals off in shimmering undercurrents.
Finally, we cut through the mist and reach the other side. Once we’re through, I can relax a little, and the hum of the magic returns. The chill instantly bites at my skin. It feels much colder out here at night in the damp boat than it does in Raphael’s study. My teeth chatter, and the air stings my face. I’m wrapped in a fur coat, but the frost is underneath, carving down to my bones. Like a devouring winter wind, the cold consumes every last bit of my heat. I hunch in my coat miserably and shiver. Closing my eyes, I imagine the fireplace in the Taliesin Library and the golden light wavering over cozy reading nooks.
Freya lets out a long breath, and I realize she’d been holding it the entire time. It must be difficult knowing that your life is in the hands of a mostly clueless rookie.
In the distance, we can see lights off the castle on Jersey. The island has a long and bloody history. First, it was ruled by a druid class until the Roman invasion. Then came the Norman invasion, the Hundred Years’ War, a siege during the English Civil War, occupation by the Nazis—and finally, conquered by the Fey empire. After being independent for decades, it's now a playground for a terrifying prince from the House of Morgan.
Today, Prince Talan—the Dream Stalker—rules Jersey. He took an ancient castle and remade it into his own, renaming it Château des Rêves—the Dream Castle. A hedonistic palace by the sea, where rich and powerful Fey can find anything their hearts desire, as long as they pay tribute to him. Under his command, the Château des Rêves has become a vast, towering castle for pleasure-seekers and romantics.
“Okay,” Raphael says. “Let’s go over everything one more time.”
We don’t need to, not really. Like every mission, we’ve pored over our cover stories, obsessively memorized plans, and scrutinized the maps for hours on end. But this is Raphael’s method, his way of reminding us that we’re in this mission together, that each of us has a role to play. And this time, I’m included. Since I can’t wait for them by the veil in the middle of the ocean, the best course of action is for me to join them on the mission, despite Raphael’s reservations.
“I’m Mabel de la Rue,” Freya says. “A human chambermaid in the Château des Rêves. I was hired after three chambermaids were overcome with a sudden stomach flu this evening.”
This alleged sickness was a contribution by an insider, a demi-Fey who lived in Jersey and worked with Camelot.
“As soon as I get the go-ahead,” Freya continues. “I’ll waltz in to clean the prince’s room and search for the maps.”
According to our intel, King Auberon recently decided that he wants his son to become more involved in the Fey army’s leadership. He sent maps to the prince, marking the up-to-date locations of the Fey military bases in the occupied territories. This is a priceless opportunity for us. Once we get our hands on those maps, our agents can act—infiltrating and sabotaging Fey bases, crippling the king’s army in a way that would take them years, even decades, to recover from.
But Raphael also has a personal reason for this mission. He’s been digging for hints about his sister for years, collecting scraps of rumors, tidbits of information. With the knowledge he’s pieced together, he’s now convinced that his sister is still alive, and that her prison could be marked on one of the maps.
“I’m Elizabeth Fallaise,” Viviane says. “A new Fey performer in the cabaret of the Palace of Pleasure, with a scintillating display that includes two winged snakes and a crystal orb, which I can do very uncomfortable acts with. Unfortunately, because I’m new, I mistakenly go to the bottom floor in search of my dressing room, which is how I end up at the vault. If the maps aren’t in the prince’s room, that’s where we find them.”
Raphael raises an eyebrow. “I’m Lord Agravain Lyoners, a bored Fey aristocrat on holiday from Brocéliande. I’ll be the go-between. Anything out of the ordinary during the operation goes through me.”
I swallow, trying to suppress the urge to puke, wishing we could be on land already. At least the heat is returning to my body. “And I’m Lady Igraine Lyoners, Agravain’s equally bored wife, hoping for a view of the castle’s orgies. My husband has a wandering eye and has failed to satisfy my needs. I’ll be at the cabaret, where I’ll be delighted to get a glimpse of the crown prince with his renowned sexual appetites. In reality, I’ll be watching his retinue to make sure they don’t go anywhere during the search in his room.”
“Hush,” Viviane murmurs. “We’re getting closer.”
The oars pound rhythmically in the waves. I turn to see the castle on a rocky hill, looming over rows of tall wooden houses that line the shore. Around us, sailboats bob in the sea.
My gaze is drawn to the palace. A castle existed here for eight centuries, but I’m sure the original was nothing like this new, enchanted creation. It glows like a star in the night sky. Silver light gleams from the towering walls, streaking the waves with white. Pearly spires stretch high toward the moon, and vines climb the pale stone.
From the castle, faint music floats on the sea air. I lick the salt off my lips as we drift closer to an empty dock. My stomach twists. This mission is immensely, insanely dangerous. Raphael promised to stick close to me—hence, his cover story as my husband.
Hopefully, we all make it out of here with our sanity intact. Our professors don’t even allow us to speak the prince’s name. We’re trained to avoid thinking about him because if you think of him, you can dream of him. Then, the wicked prince can invade your nightmares and ruin your life. Apparently, in dreams and real life, he’s an expert in torture. An artist of pain.
We glide up to a wooden dock that juts out into the sea.
I pull my fur coat tighter around me.
I can feel all the what-ifs popping in my mind. What if our source is wrong? What if the Fey soldiers noticed our little boat and are waiting in ambush right now? What if—