Sometimes I think everyone is a stranger to me, that I’m doomed to never really understand another living soul.
The Lady of the Lake
But as I crouch there, curled up like prey, something shifts in my
thoughts. With the heavy fog out of my mind, I can feel the pulse of magic
flowing through me, stronger than ever. The veil I’ve been using to shield
myself from Talan must have been leeching my magic, smothering my
powers all this time, but it’s gone.
My magic roars to the surface.
When Tana first told me I was the Lady of the Lake, I didn’t know what
it meant. Mordred had promised these powers would grow in Brocéliande,
surrounded by a world of magic. Magic feeds on magic, blooming from the
soil of enchantment here. But only now can I truly feel the Lady of the
Lake’s powers cascading through me, a waterfall of strength.
I’m not alone after all.
An ancient, unbreakable bond connects me to the Ladies of the Lake
who came before me, a magical current flowing through time and merging
with Nimuë’s spirit. This is her home now, and her body lies buried in the
soil of Brocéliande. Her magic lives in the ground beneath me. Her spirit
rushes through the trees and shimmers on the forest rivers.
But it’s Morgan’s power, too. Before she ruled as queen, she was the
Lady of the Lake. Now, her magic ripples through my body.
All three of us—Nimuë, Morgan, and me—are entwined, our forces
churning together.
I am no longer just Nia Melisande, hunted and alone. I am a covenant of
three. A sisterhood. A triple spiral carved into the stones, strong as the oaks,
old as the rocks. Fathomless as the lake itself.
As the magical current flows into my soul, my senses grow sharper,
Fey-like. I am the living keeper of Lake Avalon’s power.
I hear Vidal and the other attackers creeping toward me, their pounding
hearts and labored breaths. My senses drink in every detail: the thick scent
of their hair oils, the faint creak of
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A Father
This moment has been long coming, and he has no more leverage on
me. Surely he understands that. In fact, I’m surprised he didn’t trick me into
another Hemlock Oath. It seems out of character for him not to demand a
pledge to fulfill my bargain. I swore not to tell anyone about him. I never
promised I’d do what he wanted beyond that.
His golden eyes shine in the torchlight, mournful.
Something catches the corner of my eye. The flickering candles, the
moonlight gleaming over the crystal goblets on the table. As my gaze
sweeps over the old banquet, I feel like my chest is cracking open. This man
has been waiting centuries for the party he planned with his mother. And
right now, I’m reminded of a little boy waiting at a birthday table for a party
no one attended. Somewhere deep down, I sense how much he misses his
mom. This was something he planned for her.
Fuck.
And more than that, he saved my life, and probably my friends’ lives.
He got Raphael back.
And really…he’s a better parent than Mom.
My eyes mist over. “Mordred, I don’t think I can help you do what you
want to do.”
He raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh?”
“Humans need Avalon Tower right now. If you destroy it, humanity is
doomed.”
His gaze narrows. “Then why are you telling me this, Nia? Have I
taught you nothing? Why would you show your hand so clearly? You didn’t
even try to kill me.”
“I thought about it.”
He shrugs. “Well, that’s something.”
“You knew I was going to break my deal with you, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. What I didn’t expect is for you to tell me that you are
breaking the deal. That’s something only a stupid person would do.”
Good Day?
Cheer up, our Lady of the Lake.” Tana lays her hand on my shoulder.
“It was, all considered, a good day.”
My jaw drops open. “A good day? People died. Raphael has been taken
—”
“But we’ve slowed the darkness’s progress, and we still have hope.”
“Raphael doesn’t.”
“Doesn’t he?” she asks.
Something in her tone eases the heavy weight in my chest. There’s a
playful smile at the corner of her mouth.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “Did you see something? Can you just tell
me, for fuck’s sake?”
“Calm down.” She hands me her deck of cards. “Shuffle them.”
I do as she says, shuffling them with trembling hands.
“Now, pick a card. Just one.”
“This feels more like a magic trick than a reading.”
“It’s a reading.”
I take one card out and flip it. The Star.
“I’ve checked over and over,” Tana says. “Always the Star. Past and
future. And that, I’m certain, is Raphael. The card represents healing and
the connection to the universe, someone in tune with the creative force. If
he were truly doomed, that’s not what we’d see. His light would be
dimmed. Raphael has been taken, that’s true. But you can save him. You
can get him back. And his light will return to us.”
Against my better judgment, I feel hope rekindling in my heart. “Are
you sure?” My throat is tight.
She touches my cheek. “You are the Lady of the Lake.”
I bite my lip. “That sounds so formal.”
“How about Aqua Bitch?” Serana grins, joining us. “That’s better,
right?”
“Aqua Bitch?” Tana asks, scandalized. “What nicknames do you have
The doctrine that Jews were doomed to perpetual servitude as Christ-killers was announced by Pope Innocent III in 1205 and led Thomas Aquinas to conclude with relentless logic that “since Jews are the slaves of the Church, she can dispose of their possessions.”
Let's go Free them
She’s holding the pistol wrong. Even I know that. It’s too big for her, made of shimmering black metal, with a barrel nearly a foot long. Better suited to a trained soldier rather than a shivering, slight teenage girl. A soldier, I realize with cold clarity. A Silver. It’s the same kind of gun a Sentinel shot me with, so long ago in the cells deep beneath the Hall of the Sun. The bullet felt like a blow from a hammer and went straight through my spine. I would’ve died if not for Julian and a blood healer under his control. In spite of my ability, I raise my hands, palms open in surrender. I’m the lightning girl, but I’m not bulletproof. But she takes this as a threat instead of submission, and tenses, her finger itching too close to the trigger.
“Don’t move,” she hisses, daring to take another step toward me. Her skin, the dark, rich color of blackwood bark, offers her perfect camouflage in the forest. And yet, I see the red bloom beneath, and the tiny scarlet veins webbing the whites of each eye. I gasp to myself. She’s Red. “Don’t bleeding think about it.”
“I won’t,” I tell her, tipping my head. “But I can’t speak for him.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. She doesn’t have time to be afraid. Shade appears behind her, solidifying out of thin air, and wraps her up in an expert military hold. The gun falls from her grasp, and I snatch it before it can hit the rocky ground. She fights, snarling, but with Shade’s arms firmly locked behind her head, she can’t do much more than sink to her knees. He follows, keeping her firmly in hand, his mouth set in a grim line. A scrawny girl is no match for him.
The gun feels foreign in my hand. It’s not my chosen form of weapon—I’ve never even shot one before. I almost laugh at that. To come so far without even firing a gun.
“Get
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