Page 87 of Avalon Tower

“Did he see you?” asks Raphael. “Does he know what you look like, if he sends guards searching for the telepath?”

I shake my head. “No, he never looked at me. He saw inside my memories, but that’s it.”

Keeping to the shadows, we hurry down the zigzagging stairs overlooking the rocky beach. Despite the lacerating cold, I feel a wild euphoria. It was a near miss, but we escaped.

I glance up at the stars. Is it really possible that dawn hasn’t arrived yet? The past few hours felt like days, stretched out through the nightmare. When we reach the dock, I half expect the boat to be in pieces, shattered by the enormous whirlpool. But it’s still intact, waiting for us. My fur coat sits dry on a bench. The four of us hop in, and I pull the coat around me, trying to warm myself. In no time, Viviane and Raphael are churning their oars into the sea.

This time, we’re off without a hitch. The marine wind whips at me, and I hug myself tightly, trying to feel my blood flowing again, my muscles softening after the glacial post-magic chill. Still, my teeth hammer against each other.

“Ship,” Freya says, her voice low.

I look back and see a large ship, moving fast and piercing the water. The misty, pearly veil glows behind it, and I see it in silhouette. It’s aimed unerringly straight at us.

“Another one there.” Viviane nods to the north, where a large shadow is looming closer.

My stomach drops. The ships are moving between us and the veil. Our anchored sailboat waits for us on the other side.

“How did they find us?” asks Raphael sharply.

“The prince.” I swallow. “He knew we were heading for the boat. He saw it in the nightmare and read our intentions. He must have given the order to search for us on the water.”

“They’re catching up,” Freya mutters.

Cannons thunder in the distance. Then, a terrible shriek, becoming louder and louder.

“Grapeshot!” Raphael shouts. “Everyone down!”

I flatten myself on the bottom of the rowboat, and a second later, something screams past me. Splashes echo all around us as the deadly shots hit the water, tiny cannon rounds aimed to wound and kill people. Grapeshot scatters and doesn’t need to be accurate. Our pursuers don’t need to sink our boat. They only have to hurt us and slow us down so they can catch up.

“Faster,” Viviane grunts, sitting up.

She and Raphael row as quickly as they can toward the shimmering mist. The hum of the veil buzzes over my frigid skin.

“They’re getting closer,” Freya shouts.

“Viviane’s hurt,” Raphael says.

“I’m fine,” she says, though blood pours down her arm.

After a few seconds, she drops the oar into the water and groans. I lunge and grab it before it’s lost.

“Can you row, Nia?” Raphael asks. “Can you row and lift the veil at the same time? ”

It would have been better if I switched seats with Freya, but there’s no time. “I can do it.” My muscles are frigid with the cold, but if I can’t row, we’re as good as dead.

I lock my sights on the veil and start to row. I’ve only done this a few times, on short boat trips on a lake or a pond. Rowing in the ocean isn’t the same. I know that I need to paddle in rhythm with Raphael, and I do my best to adjust to his pace.

The veil thrums loudly against my skin as we pull at the oars. The cannons boom again. I hunch in my seat and pray but keep rowing. One of the rounds hits the boat, and Freya lets out a shriek of pain. I don’t know if she’s hurt or dead, and I can’t afford to look. We’re nearly at the veil—way closer than I thought. The ships are almost on top of us. No time to stop or focus my powers.

Raphael and I keep rowing as I mentally focus inward, grasping at the blooming crimson magic. I let it swell, then fling it desperately at the veil.

The hum goes silent as our boat plunges into the mist. We drift through to the other side, and I heave out a slow, shuddering breath and look back. Freya is still alive. The ships in pursuit are maneuvering. The cannons boom again, but in the dark night, with the veil hiding us, the shot goes wide.

Shivering, I let myself relax. Not only did we make it out, but we’ve got the map with us.

CHAPTER 28

Iblink slowly, trying to focus on Wrythe, who is standing at the lectern, stroking his blond beard. Light streams in the tall, mullioned windows over the rows of students. The Seneschal drones on. I think he’s talking about the veil.