They have Won
“We’re done being squashed by the House of Morgan and their goldsoaked nobles,” Brados says, “while we starve. We’re taking power for
ourselves.”
At my side, Malleus draws his sword. “Just try.”
Talan raises his hand. “Enough. Put your sword away. You look like an
idiot.”
Malleus flushes and sheathes his sword.
Talan meets Brados’s stare. “You’re right. This country shouldn’t be
ruled by the House of Morgan. In fact, the House of Morgan has never ruled
this kingdom.”
Brados stares at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Auberon lied. The throne was never his. Mordred is not his father. He
descends from Merlin.”
“Do we really need to worry about old history?” Aedan blusters.
“It’s true,” I say. “Mordred, son of Morgan, is still alive on Avalon. I am
his daughter. He told me this himself.”
“You’re lying,” Brados says coldly.
“Ask your advisor,” I say calmly. “She saw Mordred only yesterday.
They got along very well, actually.”
Brados turns to Nivene in shock. She purses her lips and gives him a
tiny nod.
“Well, then this makes it even clearer,” Brados says. “We’re not going
to let Mordred, whom none of us has seen in over a millennium, rule over
us. And we definitely won’t let a family of liars rule, either.”
“Neither will we,” Aedan says, his oily voice sharp and dangerous.
“Clearly, the strongest noble family should take charge. Farmers and
Sword Buddies
“Nia.” Raphael takes a step closer, his sword drawn. He looks
confused, his dark eyebrows drawn together. A faint look of hurt
shines in his silver eyes.
I swallow. “Raphael.”
Talan unsheathes his own sword, the scrape of metal piercing the tense
silence.
I hold up my hand again. “Don’t, Talan.”
“It’s true,” Raphael says in a voice rough as broken glass. “You’re
working for this living nightmare.”
“Not working for me.” Talan’s smooth, silky voice echoes off the highvaulted ceiling. “I’m a terrible boss, ask anyone. She’s my wife. But I do
recognize you. The Pendragon agent who broke out of our dungeons. With
Nia’s help, of course. So lucky, having her watching over you.”
“This bejeweled psychopath is your rebound, Nia? Really?” Venom
drips from Raphael’s voice. “How unfortunate for you.”
“You told me about him, didn’t you, Nia?” Talan says quietly, his eyes
aglow with mockery. “The ex-lover who has a bad habit of running away
from things. The one who chose his work over you. I believe I said he
sounded fucking boring. And I must admit he has pretty eyes, but he is very
tightly wound. Must be exhausting.”
Raphael’s jaw tightens. “I’m not a Pendragon agent. I’m the boy your
army left for dead, the one whose mother your army killed in her kitchen
while she begged for our lives. That’s who I am.”
“I know.” My voice wavers. “But that wasn’t Talan’s order. He tried to
save the demi-Fey, you know that. Ask Ysolde about the Blue Dragon
Project later, if we make it out of here. We don’t have time for this
0-30p: Kontrollü okuyucu 📖
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80p+: Geçmiş olsun, kitaplar seni ele geçirmiş 😅
A Virus
“You can’t stay here, either,” I say. “Wrythe engineered a plague to kill
us all.”
“What are you talking about?” Darius asks.
“That’s the weapon in Merlin’s Tower,” I rasp. “It’s a biological weapon
that targets Fey and demi-Fey. The Pendragons want to destroy us all. I’m
mildly infected already, but demi-Fey can’t spread it, though we can catch
it. He’s going to unleash it on Brocéliande, then into Europe. It will kill all
the magical creatures. I got a teeny whiff of it, and I feel like death.”
Serana and Darius are stunned into silence. Finally, Serana says, “We’ll
tell Raphael and Amon. We’ll find Nivene. We’ll find a way to stop this.
But you need to get the fuck out of here, because they’ll make an example
of you.”
We reach a window, and I realize I’m supposed to scale the wall.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Down we go.”
I scoot outside, legs first, and find the first foothold, but one question
haunts me. I don’t belong anywhere, so where am I supposed to go?
The Secret Weapon
“Raphael,” I say weakly. “There’s a secret—”
One of the goons hits me, a sudden punch into my stomach, and my
breath whooshes out. I feel like I’m suffocating.
I glance up. Raphael unsheathes his sword, his eyes lit with silver, but
Wrythe already has a dagger pressed to my throat. The knife edges into my
skin.
“Step any closer, and she dies,” he tells Raphael.
“This is over, Wrythe,” Raphael says evenly. “Let her go.”
Wrythe pauses for a few seconds. “I am merely doing my job,
protecting my people from a dangerous traitor.”
“Nia is an Avalon Steel Knight. She’s done more for our cause than any
of you—”
“Enough!” Wrythe raises his voice, his knife digging into my throat.
“You want to do this here? Very well. Let’s talk about your precious Avalon
Steel Knight. Where’s Tarquin?”
“Right here.” He steps up beside me and shoots me a disdainful look.
Wrythe eases the knife from my throat but presses it against my back,
just next to my spine. “You’ll have your chance to talk here, mongrel,” he
hisses in my ear, “but if you attempt to interrupt me before I have my say, I
will ram my knife through your ribs so fast, you won’t get a single syllable
out.”
Hatred roils through my veins. I’ll wait for my chance, and then I’ll tell
Raphael and the rest everything. I’ll risk a stabbing to get the truth out.
And then Tarquin turns and reaches his arm back to bring another
woman forward, and my heart sinks.
All of the Truth
His eyes lock on me, cold and certain. “You’re not getting away, not
without answering my questions. I recognize the feel of your mind, but I
can’t read your thoughts. I’m not a telepath. So, you’re going to do
something new for you and actually tell me the truth.”
I take a step back, eyeing Talan warily. My fingers twitch, and my legs
are still shaking, giving me away. My whole body is charged with panic and
something more corrosive. Heartbreak, maybe.
Months of deception have made lying second nature, and my mind
offers up a whole garden of falsehoods, pretty little blossoms of deceit
waiting to be plucked. Should I offer him another rotten bloom while I hide
a knife behind my back?
The question is which lie to pick…
Am I a scared farm girl blackmailed by enemies? An agent conspiring
with Fey nobles to put him on the throne? Am I a wide-eyed innocent, a
blank slate? An idiot?
Maybe a politician’s trick—I could just lie, lie, lie, flood him with lies
until he’s too exhausted to bother with the truth.
But the lies feel brittle now, dried roses ready to crumble at the slightest
touch. I can’t bring myself to lie again. And Talan won’t fall for it anymore.
So, I say nothing, because that’s all I’ve got left—silence.
The wind toys with Talan’s hair, lifting dark strands. “I’ve been inside
your mind before.” His voice is cold as midwinter frost. “Isn’t that right,
little telepath?”
I nod, just once.
My mind churns wildly like a raging storm.
A Brother's Reunion with his sister
“Your brother will be here soon.” I gesture at a wooden table and chairs
in the center of the room. “Please, sit down.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll remain standing,” she says, leaning against the
wall. She’s casual, but I note how she eyes the door, her body alert. She
doesn’t trust me. She thinks this might be a trap. Of course she does. I
couldn’t expect her to fully trust me.
“Whatever you prefer.” I shrug, sitting back down.
The door swings open, and Raphael steps in, dressed in a gray cloak, his
dark hair wet with rain. It’s grown back a little from the rough job they did
on it in the dungeons.
My throat tightens when I see him, and sadness sings in my chest.
There’s the man who chose Avalon Tower over me.
But he’s not looking at me, of course. He’s looking at the sister he’s
missed and longed to see since he was a little boy.
Ysolde stares at him, frozen, then darts forward and grabs him in a
desperate hug, her body racked with sobs.
I wait patiently. Time is short, but I have to give them at least a few
minutes after all those years. How would it feel to be reunited with a sibling
that you grew up with, that you spent so many years missing? I imagine for
a moment having a brother or sister.
Raphael’s eyes are closed as he hugs Ysolde. She’s stopped sobbing and
leans her head against his chest, tears running down her cheek. Finally, they
break apart.
“What happened to you all these years?” Ysolde asks him.
“I will tell you everything,” Raphael says, his voice cracking slightly.
