To Queen Morgana
Last year, on my birthday, I was sitting at a café in the South of France
by myself, eating blackberry cake I hadn’t ordered and fielding
frantic phone calls from my mother.
A year ago today, I was running for my life from the Fey trying to
murder me. I got kidnapped by my ex-boyfriend, Raphael, and taken across
the English Channel to Avalon Tower. I spent the journey terrified,
bewildered, and totally unprepared for what came next. With no idea I’d
survive training at Avalon Tower, let alone that I’d become the Lady of the
Lake.
A year ago today, I discovered I had hidden magic, that I was half Fey.
And this year?
This year, I’m not alone. This year, I have friends who would bleed for
me, and I’d do the same for them. A family carved out of chaos. A mom
I’ve left behind in Camelot to finally learn how to look after herself.
Today, my birthday takes place on a mossy island of rambling ruins and
ancient Fey magic.
As I polish the crystal glasses, my gaze roams over the castle’s carvings
—the triple spirals above each arched doorway that hum with magic
whenever I pass beneath them. Already, musicians are setting up in the
banquet hall, a drummer, a lyre player with shimmering silver hair, and a
lutist.
Aisling bustles in over the sun-dappled floor of cowslips, violets, and
rue. She sets out a crystal tray of buttered chanterelles with apple slices.
“So, Brados said to me, like he was serious, ‘We control the kingdom now.’
A republic. Can you imagine such a thing? He ran a bloody tavern, pulling
pints of goat piss for mead, now he’s overseeing a bloody kingdom with
some backward farmers? Not that I’m judging the country types, but in my
experience, they don’t know their arses from their elbows. Of course, most
of the Fey who stayed in Brocéliande seem to be happy. My
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.
He knows I stole from him. He just doesn’t know why.
He steps closer, slowly, like he has all the time in the world to destroy
me. All the warmth leeches from the air around us. In my thin nightgown, I
shiver.
“And why did you steal that map from me?”
📚🔔 Tatil zili çaldı!
Bir yıl boyunca verilen emeklerin ardından şimdi dinlenme, keşfetme ve yeni maceralara atılma zamanı. 🌞
Bu yaz bol kahkahalı, bol anılı ve elbette bol kitaplı geçsin. Tüm öğrencilere keyifli tatiller diliyoruz! 💙📖
To make this play believeable
“My little farm
girl, you’re going to need to fake some interest in me.” His hand slides over
my thigh, and I feel the heat of it through the translucent fabric of my dress.
I whisper back. “What do you have in mind, exactly?”
“Nia, love, you’re going to have to kiss me.” The deep sound of his
voice in my ear strokes over my skin like a sensual caress.
Warmth creeps over my cheeks, and his hand moves over my hip. Only
the thin fabric of my dress separates us, and heat ripples out from his palm.
My gaze dips to his full, sensual lips, and my pulse races.
It’s just a kiss. All part of the spy game, of course. Agents of Avalon
Tower must do all kinds of things on our missions. Things we normally
wouldn’t dream of, like kissing the enemy.
I feel their eyes on us, watching. Waiting.
I lick my lips, and his gaze flicks down to my mouth. His pupils dilate,
the copper blending to black. His thumb strokes languidly up and down on
my hip, then circles over the hollow of my thigh, sending hot tingles in the
wake of his touch.
I lean forward, my mouth hovering just over his, his breath mingling
with mine.
“Nia.” There’s a fierce, ragged edge in the way he whispers my name,
his lips so close to mine. “I hear your heart racing. You can lie to yourself,
but you can’t lie to me. I think you’re interested in me after all.”
Oh, he has my interest. I loathe him and fear him, but I’m also painfully
aware of how breathtakingly beautiful he is, this man with the dangerous
smile, the seductive eyes, and the muscled body of a Fey warrior.
This close to him, his body warms mine. I lean into his chest, and it
feels like pure steel. I brush my thumb over his full lower lip, my heart
racing. His breath hitches, and I’m surprised that I have this effect on him. I
search his eyes and find an
What did you get into
The torchlight dances in his dark eyes as he stares down at me. “Let’s
start with your name.”
“I’m Severine.”
“No. Your real name.”
“That is my real name.”
He cocks his head, and a lock of ebony hair falls before one of his eyes.
“If I desire, I can wrap you in a dream, girl. And in that dream, you will feel
compelled to say your real name a thousand times. You will say it for days,
for weeks, until you starve half to death, until the word no longer has
meaning. So, let’s try this again. What’s your name?”
Thunder rumbles outside, rattling the diamond-shaped glass panes.
I feel it then, a touch of his velvety power, brushing at the edges of my
mind. Threatening to wrap around me, to envelop my reality. He really will
do it unless I act fast. The shield in my mind isn’t strong enough. There
wasn’t enough time to practice.
Lying works best when it is laced with truth. I can give this evil fucker a
crumb.
I narrow my eyes at him, jaw tightening.
I should be acting like a meek girl, intimidated by the crown prince. But
Raphael’s words still echo in my mind, and the state of his ravaged, tortured
body burns my thoughts like a brand.
“Fine, it’s Nia.” I spit out the words. “Vaillancourt.” My words come
out sharper than they should, while my mind is whirring, making up a story
that would work, that would convince him I’m not worth his time.
“So, Nia. What are you doing here?” His voice is so uncannily familiar,
and the sound of his deep, velvety voice as he speaks my name sends a
strange rush of heat through my blood.
My pulse is racing out of control. Some Fey can hear a heartbeat while
standing nearby. I wonder if he’s one of them.
I lift my chin. “My family and I are tenants on farmland we don’t own.
New Faces and Lullubies
“I’m Darius.” He waves. “Nice to meet you. I’ll get out in just a
moment. I just came for a quick reading.”
“Darius is addicted to Tana’s readings,” Serana explains. “You know
drug addicts? He’s like that, but for cartomancy. He’s here every night,
asking about love. Tana, where is my soulmate? Tana, is the fella I met
today the one? Tana, does this devil on the card mean I stop following my
old lovers through the streets of Camelot, or am I destined for a gorgeous
bad boy?”
“I also ask about weightier subjects, not just my love life,” Darius
snaps.
“I don’t mind either way.” Tana is shuffling her cards. “But before we
do your reading, I promised one for Nia.”
Darius scoots to the corner of the bed and gestures at me. “Ladies first.”
“It’s not necessary,” I say warily.
“Oh, let her get on with it,” Serana says. “Or she won’t stop harping
about it.”
I sit down between Darius and Tana, and she hands me the deck of
cards. “Shuffle and think of the future.”
I shuffle the cards, but thinking of the future seems impossible. I used to
have everything planned years in advance. But now? I have no idea what’s
happening.
I finally hand the cards back to Tana, and she flips the first one. I peer
down to see what it is, and a chill sweeps over my skin. I don’t know a ton
about tarot, but this one is obviously ominous. It looks like a tower struck
by lightning, with silhouettes of bodies falling from it. Flames rise from
some of the windows, and dark storm clouds surround it.
“The Tower,” she says.
“Like…Avalon Tower?” I ask.
“Perhaps. The cards shouldn’t be taken too literally.”
She frowns and flips another card, which she places across it. This one
What just happened
Gasping, I realize not everyone in the crowd is running away. Not all of them are afraid, or even confused by the outburst of violence. They move differently, with purpose, motive, a mission. Black pistols gleam, flashing as they dig into a guard’s back or stomach. Knives glint in the growing dark. The screams of fear become screams of pain. Bodies fall, slumping against the tile of the square.
I remember the riots in Summerton. Reds hunted down and tortured. A mob turning on the weakest among them. It was disorganized, chaotic, without any order. This is the opposite. What looks like wild panic is the careful work of a few dozen assassins in a crowd of hundreds. With a grin, I realize they all have something in common. As the hysteria grows, each one dons a red scarf.
The Scarlet Guard is here.
Cal, Kilorn, Farley, Cameron, Bree, Tramy, the Colonel.
They’re here.
With everything I have, I butt my head back and crack my skull against Clover’s nose. She howls, and silver blood spurts down her face. In an instant her grip on me breaks, leaving only Kitten. I drive an elbow into her gut, hoping to throw her off. She lets go of my shoulder, only to wrap her arm around my neck and squeeze.
I twist, trying to get enough room to bend my neck and bite. No chance. She increases the pressure, threatening to crush my windpipe. My vision spots, and I feel myself being pulled backward. Away from the Treasury, Maven, his Sentinels. Through the lethal crowd. I trip backward as we reach the steps. I kick weakly, trying to catch on to anything. The Security officers dodge my poor efforts. Some drop to their knees, guns raised, covering the retreat. Clover looms over me, the bottom half of her face painted with mirrored blood.
“Double back through Whitefire. We have to keep
