CHAPTER 28
blink slowly, trying to focus on Wrythe, who is standing at the lectern, stroking his blond beard. Light streams in the tall, mullionedI windows over the rows of students. The Seneschal drones on. I think he’s talking about the veil.
It’s been four days since we returned from our mission on Jersey, but my head still feels foggy. Even now, the residual thoughts of a dozen other people fill my mind like static, and I get terrible, debilitating headaches. My only respite is the constant supply of herbal tea from Tana. It’s nearly impossible to concentrate, which is unfortunate. The Culling is coming up fast, and I’m struggling to learn anything, despite staying up till two a.m. every night studying.
“No wall in history has ever been as effective as the veil,” Wrythe says.
“MI-13 agents can’t swim or tunnel underneath, or even fly over the veil.
There are some rare magical items, orbs and crystals and such, that provide some protection from veil magic, but they’re unstable, and many die trying to use them. Auberon’s mages keep the veil raised, stopping humans from invading their territory. Unfortunately, our only way of reliably going through the veil is with our Sentinels. At the moment, we have only one qualified Sentinel. As my brilliant niece Ginevra and I were just discussing, our command has been forced to resort to using untrained, subpar alternatives.” He cuts me a sharp look, and the rest of the class turns to stare at me, as though I’ve done something terrible.
“Even though we all know,” he goes on, “that until a cadet passes the
Culling, he or she hasn’t proven what it takes to function as an agent of Camelot. But these are desperate times, indeed. Desperate times.”
I meet his eyes calmly. Untrained, subpar alternatives? That’s me, and yet, without me, the last mission would not have happened at all.
On the benches across from me, I see Tarquin and Horatio smirk. Tarquin mouths, Subpar. Serana, sitting by my side, tightens her fist, and her pencil snaps in half. I smile at her and hand her a spare.
“Every agent needs to be intimately familiar with the veil,” Wrythe continues. “We cannot have undercover agents gawking at it like fools, drawing attention to themselves. This is the reason for the field training mission that leaves this evening.”
A murmur of excitement runs through the hall. This field training mission has been almost all anyone has talked about for the past few days. All the cadets and the majority of instructors are leaving on a ship. The plan is to take them on a brief three-day tour along the veiled border.
Everyone except me.
Raphael already let me know that since I’m very familiar with the veil, there’s no point in me going. Instead, he wants to use this time to work on my Sentinel magic, preparing me for the Culling. And given how foggy my brain has been, having the extra time to prepare isn’t the worst thing in the world.
We’ve all been forgoing sleep, cramming maps and information and Fey grammar rules into our skulls. I’ve been helping Serana with her Fey language while practicing my lock-picking skills for one of the tests. Serana does her best to help Tana and me with our fighting abilities.
I rub my eyes, fighting off the exhaustion. When Wrythe lists the cities that the veil borders, Serana nods off. As her head bobs, I elbow her. She snores and startles awake.
“Ms. O’Rourke.” Wrythe’s sharp tone pierces the hall as he addresses
Serana.
She blinks blearily. “Yes, sir?”
“Since you’ve been so attentive, perhaps you could list four cities in France that the veil’s southern border cuts through.”
“Um…”
“Incorrect.”
“That wasn’t…I was just thinking out loud—”
“I assume thinking out loud is the only way you’d get any thinking done.”
He snorts.
More laughter from the Pendragons. My spare pencil snaps in Serana’s grip.
Wrythe’s lips curl. “By the time we leave tonight, I want you to submit to me a paper listing four of those cities, with the names of our contacts there and how best to get in touch with them. You, too, Ms. Melisende, since we all know that ignorance can be quite infectious. That will be all.”
The room fills with the sound of rustling paper and murmuring as everyone stands up to go to dinner.
“That utter wanker,” Serana mutters as she crumples her notes into her bag.
“Watch it,” Darius says in a whisper. “He might hear you.”
As we head for the dining hall, Serana touches my arm. “Sorry, Nia. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I adjust the bag on my shoulder. “The veil is sort of an inverted U. I’d choose Bordeaux, Poitiers, Bourges, and Marseille or Avignon. And I already know the contact names and everything. We’ll do the essay in no time at all.”
“You’re incredible,” Serana says, relieved. “I was sure it would take hours, and I still need to pack for the training mission.”
“How do you manage to keep so bloody calm?” Darius asks me. “Wrythe is constantly making snide remarks about you. The Pendragons hate all demi- Fey, but they’re clearly targeting you.”
I shrug. The truth is, compared to the Dream Stalker’s torments, Wrythe’s barbed remarks don’t trouble me at all. “I don’t care what he thinks.”
We cross into the majestic chamber, where the sunlight pours through towering windows onto lavishly set tables. The portraits of Queen Guinevere and King Arthur loom over us all.
I walk to the cadets’ table, doing my best to avoid contact with other people. The last thing I need is more telepathic voices ricocheting in my skull.
“I can’t wait to see the veil,” Darius says. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“I’m excited just to leave Camelot,” Serana says. “I haven’t stepped out of these walls in a year.”
I sigh. “I think I’m going to miss you guys when I’m all alone in my room.”
Serana drops down at a table with empty chairs. “Sure you will. I bet you can’t wait to have it all to yourself without my snoring and Tana hogging the
bathroom.”
I smile at her. She doesn’t realize how much I’ve come to love having friends in my life.
“Hi, Nia!” A woman across the hall shouts my name, and I turn to see her smiling at me. She’s next to a man with platinum blond hair. Both of them
grin and wave.
Flustered, I wave back.
“Fans of yours.” Serana says. “Word got around about the mission.
Everyone knows that you took down the Dream Stalker.”
“I don’t have fans.” I laugh. “And unfortunately, I did not take him down.
The man is still alive and well.”
But maybe I feel a little flicker of pride as I scoop some wildflower salad onto my plate. It’s an Avalon Tower classic of pansies, violets, dandelion leaves and an elderflower vinaigrette. The main course is wild mushrooms with rice, seasoned with butter and thyme. The rich scent of it makes my stomach rumble. Already, my mouth is watering, and my mood brightens.
At first, when I went on missions, I was treated with suspicion and jealousy. Tarquin and the Pendragons spread around the term public bus, then Naughty Nia and a whole host of other names. For months, others in the academy followed the Pendragons’ lead, whispering Tarquin’s nicknames, sometimes painting them on my door.
That changed after the last mission. Now, a different sort of rumor has spread. I don’t know how because everything that happened was supposedly classified. But people know enough to realize that I played an important role in the mission.
I take a bite of the buttery mushrooms and rice, savoring the faint taste of truffle oil.
Serana has already shared some of the wild gossip she heard about the mission. That I single-handedly fought the Dream Stalker, straddled him, and snapped his neck. Others say that I saved everyone by galloping on a stolen horse across the island of Jersey. But the story she found most outrageous was one where the agents had all been trapped in an endless nightmare by the Dream Stalker, and that somehow, I broke us out using only my mind.
I sip my mead. In any case, the general opinion of me has definitely shifted for the better. And while Tarquin tries to keep the mockery alive, everyone else seems to be losing interest.
Tana plucks a fluffy berry pavlova and drops it onto her plate. “And how
was Wrythe today?”
“An arsehole,” Darius answers. “Wouldn’t expect anything else of him.”
“Are you ready for the big trip, Tana?” I ask.
Tana isn’t going to see the veil. Like me, she’s seen it often enough, but they need her with them to sound the warning in case of danger. The academy doesn’t want to lose their entire year of cadets because they failed to take proper precautions.
“Yes, all packed.” Tana gently nudges Serana. “You’ll forget to pack your socks, so I already packed some for you.”
“Well, now that you told me that I’ll forget, I’ll definitely remember,”
Serana says, her mouth full. “I like to do the opposite of what people expect.”
“No, you will not. The cards do not lie.” Her gaze slides to me. “And speaking of which, I’m still wondering about that lovers card. Remember? A lover from the past? It wouldn’t be Raphael, would it?”
My stomach drops. Sometimes, it’s deeply inconvenient having a psychic friend. “He’s taken, isn’t he?” I say, flustered. “Serana, when you first brought me to Raphael’s room, Ginevra was in there.” I try to look casual as I drum my fingertips on the wooden table. “And Raphael wasn’t wearing a shirt. Aren’t romantic relationships strictly forbidden here? Guess we shouldn’t tell anyone about it or ever bring it up again.”
The words all come out in a frantic tumble, and Serana arches an eyebrow. “Now, what is going on here, exactly? You and Raphael?”
I shrug, trying to look casual. “Don’t be ridiculous. He hates me, remember?”
Tana narrows her eyes at me. “But you knew him in the past, didn’t you?
And it wasn’t just a friendship.”
My stomach swoops again. “Me? We were just talking about Ginevra.
Ginevra,” I repeat.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“She really doesn’t want you to get kicked out for something dumb, like shagging an instructor,” says Serana. “You’d better not lick or otherwise touch him while we’re away and you two are alone.”
“The lover from the past…” Tana prompts again.
My cheeks flush. “Fine. I knew him, yes. Ages ago. It was in Bordeaux, and he kissed me once, and then said I was a spoiled American and never spoke to me again until I saw him in the south of France. The day I met you, Tana. He fully ghosted me, and I’ve never shagged him.”
“Dickhead. Did you see his knob?” asks Serana. “I’m just very curious,
because I imagine it—”
“I have not.”
Darius rests his chin in his hands. “I’d risk getting kicked out for someone who looks like him, honestly.”
Tana’s stare is penetrating. “The cards suggested that a love from the past is also in your future.”
I take a long sip of mead. “Well, anyway. Good news, everyone! My headaches are gone. I’m right as rain.”
Serana nods. “You’re doing that thing again.”
Tana’s grips her glass of mead so hard, she’s at risk of breaking it. “Okay, you need to be absolutely ready when the tests come, and focused. You cannot fail. You and I have to pass, Nia. And you cannot get kicked out.”
“I get it.” My voice comes out a little sharp. “I am studying as hard as I can. No pressure, right?”
“Why are you so intense about Nia passing?” Darius asks. “I mean, we all really need to pass, right? Why are you harassing the poor girl?”
Tana, Serana, and I exchange quick glances.
“Yeah,” Serana says. “Tana is just really worried that Nia will fail the fighting part. But I keep telling her she doesn’t need to worry. Nia can kick anyone’s arse these days. Even the Dream Stalker. At this point, she could thrash a demon of the abyss in a one-on-one fight.”
“Some demons are actually pacifists and refuse to fight, even when cornered,” Tana says, staring at the window.
Serana’s forehead scrunches up. “I was just speaking metaphorically, I guess. There are no demons in the world, Tana.” Her face has gone pale.
“Right?”
“Right.” Tana sips from her mead and smiles faintly. “It’s better to think that.”
“Well, that’s a thought that’s gonna fester,” Darius mutters.
“Anyway, you don’t need to worry.” I spear a strawberry with my fork, though I’ve lost my appetite. Tana’s prophecy is stressful enough without her constantly reminding me of it, then adding in a whole bunch of other stressful predictions.
The sad truth is, I’m not at the top of my game, and my diametric magic is still wildly unpredictable and out of my control. At least, for the upcoming month, I will be out of danger. The only thing I have to do is master every
spy skill that exists and memorize the entire Fey history.
Darius loses interest in our discussion, his eyes following Nolan, a tall cadet who goes with me to Amon’s advanced class for Fey language. Serana rolls her eyes at me. Darius has been obsessing about Nolan for weeks.
“I’ll catch up with you girls later,” Darius mutters, getting up, and walks after Nolan.
“I don’t get Darius’s taste in men,” Serana tells me. “That Nolan guy is nothing special.”
“I don’t know. He looks nice. And he’s wicked smart.”
“Eh. I prefer more shoulders on my men.”
“More than two?” I ask, bemused, fishing the last bits of my salad from my plate. When I look up again, Tana is staring at me, her eyes wide. A
feeling of dread sinks into my stomach.
“What?” I ask.
“The shadows are closing in. Death hunts you. During the trials, the darkness will start to envelop you. If you don’t survive, we all die. England is lost. Scotland and Wales, too. The rot will creep from the Cliffs of Dover all the way to the highlands. It starts during the trials.”
She takes an enormous bite of her berry pavlova without breaking eye contact as she chews. I’m not sure what’s more unnerving, her disturbing prophecy or the way she stares at me as she eats.
A cold fear settles over me.
