CHAPTER 10
’m trying to follow Amon’s directions to my room in Lothian Tower, but at this point, I’m too sleep-deprived and self-conscious in theI transparent silver gown to function normally. As I clutch my new clothes, I’m pretty sure I’ve been going in circles.
Where is the damn room?
At last, my gaze lands on it—number 333—a wooden door inset into an ornately carved stone arch. A brass lion juts from the door with a circular door knocker in its mouth.
I knock twice. Moments later, the door swings open, and Serana beams at me. “There you are!”
Light floods the room through tall arched windows, illuminating three beds with headboards carved to look like interwoven vines. Round tables stand between the beds, and plants grow in pots on the large stone windowsills.
This place looks amazing, cozy and grandiose at the same time. It even has two sets of bookshelves that display old tomes and flickering candles in jars.
Tana sits on one of the beds with a book in her lap. “No classes today.
We can rest, and I bloody well need it.” On the table next to her is a gold- engraved black teapot and several matching cups.
I turn to look at Serana’s bed. On her side, the vibe is very different from Tana’s tidy corner of the room. Senara’s bed is chaos incarnate, the bedsheets tangled and knotted. Half a dozen outfits are discarded on and around the
bed, and books litter the nightstand, stacked in a precarious tower. The hilt of a sword peeks from beneath her pillow. Yellow stains—which I can only hope are from tea—streak her duvet.
“Welcome to our room,” she says. “The three of us will be sharing.”
One of the books topples off her bedside table, and I rush over to catch it.
I start stacking the books neatly, my eyes darting to the third bed. Mine, I presume. I’m so tired that it’s drawing me closer like a magnetic pull. “I hope you forgive me if I just sleep all day.”
“I’ll pour you some mugwort tea,” says Tana. “It will give you soothing dreams when you fall asleep.”
Serana cocks her head at me. “What are you doing, love?”
I belatedly realize I was trying to untangle her sheets. “Your bed looked uncomfortable.”
“I’m a fucking mess.” She shrugs. “I’m fine with it, though.”
“Right. Of course.” I pull the sheets over my bed, making it neatly.
Once it’s made, with the pillows piled up, I drop onto the mattress with a relieved sigh and accept a steaming cup of tea from Tana. “Ah, thank you.”
I sit up, glancing at my roommates over the rim of my mug. It’s an unusual feeling for me, being looked after, and it warms my chest along with the tea. I take another long look at their room—no, our room. Over Tana’s bedside table hangs a portrait of a man with a long white beard. He wears blue robes with silver crescent moons and a torc around his throat to match.
He holds a gnarled wooden staff, and the gold placard beneath it reads MERLIN.
My breath catches. I still can’t believe all this is real. “A silver torc?” I ask. “Do you mean to tell me that Raphael has achieved a higher level than Merlin himself?”
“Ah, no,” says Tana. “Merlin wears Avalon Steel. It’s a special sort of metal made by dragon fire and cooled in the lake, granted to him by the Lady of the Lake when she was alive.” She grins. “He loves wearing it because Nimuë made it for him. I mean, he loved wearing it. Past tense. Only Merlin, Arthur, and some of the most powerful Fey of Merlin’s court had those. It doesn’t exist anymore because all the primal magic is gone from the world.
Primal magic disappeared when the Fey left for Brocéliande.”
When I look closer, I can see that the torc does have a warmer tone than silver, a rosy sheen.
“I need to let everyone at home know that I’m here,” I say after a few
seconds. “Do either of you know how to get a letter quickly to the U.S.? Or is there a phone here?”
“No phones for us.” Tana nods. “I can help you with a letter. It’s a very speedy service. But of course, you can’t let them know you’re here. No one can know Camelot exists. They vet all the letters.”
I blink as it sinks in. “Right.”
“You’ll need a cover story,” says Serana. “You fell in love, and you’re staying for your new fella. Raphael.” She snorts. “No, I’m only joking. He obviously hates you.”
I stare at her. “You picked up on that?”
“It’s a bit obvious, darling.” She shrugs. “Well, he either hates you or wants to shag you, or both. But you cannot shag him. Absolutely not allowed at Avalon Tower.”
“Tarquin didn’t seem to care about that rule,” I say.
“Oh, those rules don’t apply to the gods-chosen Pendragons, of course.
Just us commoners. Don’t worry, there are plenty of options outside the tower.” She shrugs. “If you have the energy for that sort of thing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Is there a story between Raphael and you?” she asks. “Have you met him before?”
“Nothing interesting,” I mutter. “Anyway, I’ll just tell my mom I found work in an amazing bookstore.”
“Whatever it takes.” Serana flicks her red hair behind her shoulder.
“Are you still in training, Tana?” I ask. “I thought you were already an agent.”
“I’m back for more training,” she says. “I’ve been helping MI-13 for a while, mostly on boats, like the one where we met. But they want to send me into Fey France, so I need a whole bunch of new skills. I’ll be in the fighting class and the spycraft classes.”
My stomach tightens. “They won’t expect me to go into Fey France right?
I’ll just help crews across the veil barrier and stay on this side, I’m assuming.
Tarquin was sort of right. I’m not at all prepared to be here.”
“Tarquin is a wanker,” Serana says. “You don’t need life advice from him. Missions never go as planned. As a Sentinel, you’ll have to know how to react and improvise when the time comes. And yes, that could be in Fey France. Maybe even Brocéliande.”
“Wanker. It’s a funny word,” Tana says dreamily. “Wanker. Say it
enough times, and it feels weird. Wanker. Waaanker. Wanker. Wanker.”
Serana massages the bridge of her nose. “Tana, I think you drank too
much mugwort tea.”
Tana clutches her mug. “Waaaaaaanker.”
“Were you ever there?” I ask Serana. “Brocéliande?”
She shakes her head. “I’m from the Isle of Man. But Tana comes from Brocéliande.”
Tana’s eyes are drifting shut. “Did you know that in the ancient days—in the time of primal magic—when the Fey were still in Avalon, they would build a large wicker tower and put humans inside it and burn them? And they’d spill human blood to fertilize the soil, where mistletoe grew. I wonder if they still do that.”
Serana rolls her eyes. “Tana, you’re going to scare our new roommate.”
I’m desperate to sleep, but I have two days’ worth of grime on me, and my nails look filthy. “Is there a bath somewhere?” I ask.
“Ah, we’re lucky.” Serana grins. “Tana was able to persuade them to give us a good room with our own bath.” She points at a door just between the bookshelves. “Right there.”
I sigh with relief. “Thank you.” I pull out some of the new clothes—a red dress with no sleeves—and head for the bathroom.
I open the door to a narrow stone room. Light streams in, forming diamond-shaped patterns on the flagstone floor. Candles and soap rest on wooden shelves, and burgundy towels are stacked neatly on a cushioned stool. A copper clawfoot tub stands on one side, and I turn on the tap. As the bath fills, steam curls into the air. I slip into the tub as the water rushes in, and my muscles start to relax. After the long journey here, this feels amazing.
For the last seven years, we’ve been in an apartment that has a bathroom down the hall, shared with strangers. It has a single shower stall that always
has someone’s hair in it.
This? This is luxury.
I scrub the grime and seawater off my body. I don’t stay in the bath too long because I’m in danger of falling asleep. But as I step out and the water trickles down my bare skin, I hear Raphael’s voice.
Imagine that rivulets of water are flowing down your skin, dripping down the curves of your body.
I wonder if he remembers that he kissed me once, out there in the vineyards all those years ago. Or if he has any idea that the kiss ruined me
because I think nothing will ever top how it made me feel.
I really need to stop thinking about him.
I dry myself off aggressively, then I pull on the red dress. The material is exquisite and silky against my skin.
I cross into the bedroom again and freeze. An unfamiliar man is sitting in the room, nestled next to Tana on her bed.
“Oh, sorry,” he quickly apologizes. He has a wave of raven-dark hair, brown skin, and large eyes. He wears a white, frilly shirt with the buttons open and a top hat. Strings of silver necklaces gleam on his neck, and his eyes are lined with black eyeliner.
He smiles at Tana and me. “You have a new roommate?”
“This is Nia,” Tana says.
“She’s joining the academy.” Serana is carving a piece of wood with a sharp blade, and wood chips are scattering all over the floor and her bed.
“Just came in today after single-handedly killing a sea serpent and smuggling an entire crowd of fugitives through the border.”
I huff a laugh. “That’s not even remotely true.”
“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 was The Lovers. A naked couple are in flagrante. I don’t think the tarot cards in America are quite this racy. These two look to be on the verge, and I find
myself staring a little too hard.
“Huh. The Lovers.” Tana sounds puzzled.
“What? I never get The Lovers,” Darius says. “Serana told me that you don’t even have that card in your deck.”
“I was just trying to spare your feelings, hon.” Serana gives him a sympathetic smile.
Tana runs her fingers on the card. “This one’s both in the past and the future. A lover from the past.”
My chest flutters. I’ve only had two real boyfriends, and they worked in the same bar. One of them was obsessed with getting women to do body shots off his abs, the other with his terrible glam rock band. I hope neither of them is in my future.
“And The Tower interjects in between,” says Tana. “Pulling them apart, drawing them together.”
“Pulling and pushing, huh?” Serana makes a really crude, unmistakable motion with her fingers. “Some good stuff, Nia. The readings here don’t usually get that saucy.”
“You know, this should really be done in private,” Tana says sharply.
“Well, it’s my room, too.” Serana sticks her tongue out.
“Just imagine I’m not even here,” Darius says. “I want to see what happens.”
She places the next card below the first two. It sends another chill over my skin—a man sitting on a throne decorated with large ram’s horns, the general appearance of an evil god. The card reads “The Emperor.”
“Your parentage,” she mutters. “Something about it puts you in danger.”
That one is easy. “My mom. She has issues.” Mom has fallen asleep
drunk on the sofa with a lit cigarette on many, many occasions. She once drove a car into a building when I was in the passenger seat. Nothing could be less surprising to me than the idea that she puts my life in danger on a regular basis.
“Well, that’s not your mother.” Tana jabs a finger at the card. I feel like the card reading isn’t going to her liking.
My stomach tightens. Mom raised me to believe Walter was my father, a boring, very human man with a large bank account. But obviously, he wasn’t.
I had some questions to ask her. Specifically, what Fey did she bang?
“I don’t think I know who my dad is,” I say, “but I suppose being demi- Fey is what puts me in danger.”
She flips over more cards—The Moon, then Death, a skeleton riding on a horse beneath a stormy sky. Lightning cracks the clouds above him.
A shudder dances along my spine. “Sometimes death isn’t bad, right? In the tarot cards? It just means a change or something?” I ask hopefully.
But Tana seems like she can’t even hear me anymore. She flips more cards, almost in a frenzy. More swords and blood, a card with coins. The Wheel of Fortune. Then she pauses, puts the deck aside, and takes a long
breath.
“Tana…” I swallow. “Am I going to die?”
She raises her eyes and meets mine. “Yes.”
I blanch. “What?”
“We all die someday, but demi-Fey live much longer than humans.”
“Right, but what did you see in the cards?”
She shakes her head. “Usually, the cards are much clearer. But with you, there are so many forces involved that the future fractures. There are almost endless possibilities. I see…duality. Struggles inside you and out in the world. Impossible decisions. And a lake. The lake.”
A silence settles in the room.
“You know,” Serana finally says, “normally, when you get a new roommate, you should invite her to a party, not scare her half to death.”
“Oh. Right.” Tana collects the cards miserably. She raises her eyes to me.
“Um…do you want to go to a party?”
“Not today, thanks.”
“Good.” She looks relieved. “I haven’t been invited to any.”
“I was going to go next,” Darius said. “But with your current mood, you’ll probably see only death, destruction, and plague in my future.”
“No, let’s do your reading now,” Tana says brightly. “Your readings always make me feel better.”
I get up from Tana’s bed and lie down in mine. Even with Tana’s terrifying card reading, exhaustion settles over me, and I can already feel my eyes shutting. I lie on my side, watching Tana and Darius as he shuffles the cards.
“Why do my readings make you feel better?” he asks.
Tana flips cards onto her bedsheets. “It’s nice to see love in the cards instead of patrol ships and death.”
“So you see love in the cards?” Darius perks up.
“No, but it’s nice to think about it.”
Darius clears his throat. “And the man who works at the Seven Stars pub?
We bonded over an adorable cat wearing a lace collar who kept sitting in his lap.”
“He’s not the man for you,” Tana says softly. “He’s a rake, and he snacks on anchovies all day.”
“Oh, well, that’s a dealbreaker.” Darius sighs. “The anchovies part, not the rake. I suppose that’s why the cat liked him so much.”
“You can see that the barista likes anchovies in the cards?” I ask sleepily.
“Yes,” Tana says. “I mean, it depends on the reading. But in this case, it’s The Devil again, with the seven of swords across it.”
“Well, it figures that anchovies would be signified by The Devil,” Darius
mutters.
“I like anchovies,” Serana interjects.
“You would,” Darius snaps.
She glares at him. “What does that mean?”
Their voices sound muted. Sometimes, when I’m tired like this, I hear another voice, one of my many hallucinations.
But unlike most of my hallucinations, this one happens when I’m alone, and I actually like it.
This one started when I was around eighteen, a man’s voice, deep and melodious. Sometimes, the words felt poetic, like a dark lullaby. Sometimes, they were downright violent. Often, a dark note of sadness runs through his thoughts. But mostly, there’s an undercurrent of a velvet-tinged voluptuary.
Beautiful, vulgar, seductive, and dripping with pleasures I’ve never experienced.
Two women in my embrace, two heavy breaths on my chest. I cannot
remember their names. The unruly sun pierces the calm, and birdsong heralds the night’s end. I will lie in bed all day, wrapped in the limbs of bright, glaring strangers. But my home is the night and the soft meeting of lips to lips.
My eyes drift closed, and with the man’s beautiful voice in my mind, I dream of a starry sky.
