CHAPTER 33
n the night of the shadow trial, I stand with the other cadets in a ruined church not far from the Tower of London. The written test a couple ofO days ago was easy enough, but I have no clue what’s in store for tonight, only that it’s taking place outside.
With no roof above, moonlight washes over us. Vines with greenish- white flowers cling to half-broken stone arches.
The last time I went to London, I was ten years old, before the Fey invasion. Mom and I stayed for a week in a house Walter owned. I didn’t see much of the city then. There were lots of parties at the mansion, and I remember adults sleeping all over the house—on floors and sofas—with empty alcohol bottles and smoldering cigarettes all around. I only saw a few glimpses of London, on the way to and from the airport.
Now, finally, I get to see some of the ancient city—the Tower of London, the River Thames, and a pub called the Hung Drawn and Quartered, named after a nearby execution spot.
From one of the stone arches, Wrythe paces out onto the grass.
“Tonight,” he bellows, “your task is to steal a replica of Excalibur, hidden somewhere in this part of London. Perhaps by the Tower. Perhaps by the river. Maybe in the river. Like a true mission, the details are sparse, but there are a few contacts spread throughout the city with information. There might also be unknowing participants who have their own knowledge to share. The usual rules of the city apply, and no one may carry weapons. This isn’t about brute force. This is about cunning.” He turns and paces. “And of course, only
one of you will find the hidden Excalibur. Whoever does will have a strong shot at a gold or silver torc. Perhaps none of you will find it. In any case, we will score you according to your individual achievements, as poor as they might be.” He shoots me a sharp look.
“Could he be any more patronizing?” Serana whispers.
I’m about to answer when I notice someone in the shadows—the cherry- haired woman I’ve seen before in Avalon Tower. The other Sentinel, Nivene.
What’s she doing here?
“The trial will begin in fifteen minutes,” Wrythe says. “Those of you who are capable of independent thought best use this time to plan.”
Almost instantly, we form into small groups. Serana, Tana, Darius, and I walk into the shadows of the vestry, one with stone walls, Gothic windows, and no roof. Here, we have a little privacy. Vines climb the walls, and moonlight streams down over us.
I peer through one of the glassless windows to see Tarquin, Horatio, and three of their closest hangers-on huddling together in the grassy nave. Wisps of fog waft through the air.
Wrythe walks by the Pendragon crowd and whispers to Tarquin. In response, Tarquin smiles and nods.
My mouth drops open. “I think Wrythe just tipped off Tarquin.”
“Of course,” Serana mutters. “The Pendragons don’t get gold torcs through skill. But we need to actually come up with a plan.”
“Yeah.” Darius sounds listless. Ever since Nolan’s death, he’s hardly talked. He doesn’t seem to care about the trials or anything else anymore.
“Tana,” I say, “have you foreseen anything? Any thoughts?”
Tana shakes her head. “There’s something misty about the trial. Foggy. I can’t really see it, but I can feel it. I can’t say if it’s real or magically
created.”
“Okay. London’s often foggy, isn’t it?”
“And there’s a big fucking steam fair nearby,” says Serana. “There are rides and weird arcades all around Tower Green. I’m sure Wrythe planned this with as much chaos in mind as possible.”
A flash of red catches my eye, and I turn to see Nivene staring at me from an arched doorway. She jerks her head, motioning for me to join her, then slinks back into the shadows on the other side of the nave.
“Give me a second,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
“What?” Serana grabs my arm. “Nia, the trial is about to start. We need a
plan.”
“Just a few minutes.” I give her an apologetic look. “Start without me.”
I slip away, weaving between the groups of cadets gathered under the moonlight. I spot her scarlet hair and follow her into a leafy, derelict tower.
My heart pounds. This is insane. My first trial is about to start, and everything depends on me passing it. I can’t waste my time on whatever this is. What am I doing here?
She turns to face me, her jade eyes piercing in the dark. “Hello, Nia.”
She leans back against a wall, arms folded, scrutinizing me. Her gaze is impenetrable and unblinking. Up close, I can see that a long, faded scar runs down her left cheek. A teardrop pendant hangs around her throat.
“Hi,” I say. Standing close to her, I feel the tug between us grow even stronger. “You’re Nivene, right? The other Sentinel.”
“That’s right.” Her voice is soft and sad. “The other Sentinel.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, but this isn’t a good time,” I say. “The shadow trial is about to start, and if I fail this—”
“I need your help now. The lives of all the people here are at stake.”
I blink. “What are you talking about?”
“All this time, you’ve been training to be an Agent of Camelot,” she says.
“To go beyond the veil into Fey France. To spy on Auberon’s forces. But surely you realize there’s a second side to that coin.”
It takes me a second to catch up. “Yeah.” My voice cracks, just a bit.
“While we’re spying on Auberon’s Fey, they’re spying on us.”
“Precisely.” She nods. “Fey spies, saboteurs, and assassins. There’s a war going on, and it takes place on both sides of the veil. You were the target of such an operative, right?”
“A veil mage broke into my room,” I say. “He tried to kill me.”
She uncrosses her arms and steps forward. “And now, another of Auberon’s veil mages is here. Right now. I’ve felt him…somewhere nearby, just ten minutes ago. Auberon’s spies must have found out about this trial.
Really, it’s a priceless opportunity for the Fey. All of Avalon Tower’s cadets in one place, and many of the knights, too. And what’s worse, they’re about to split up. A skilled assassin would be able to take them out one by one.”
“If that’s true, we have to stop the trial,” I say. “We need to tell them—”
She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “If only. Do you think I haven’t tried
that?”
“Then why is the trial continuing?”
“Avalon Tower is weighed down by protocol and politics. I know you’ve noticed that.” Nivene looks at the huddled cadets. “I’ve never been very good at convincing anyone of anything. That was my sister’s skill.”
I notice the past tense. “Was she at Avalon Tower, too?”
“Her name was Alix, and she had just fallen in love for the first time. And now, she’s gone.”
The name sparks a memory. “She was the other Sentinel. The one who died.”
“Yeah.” Nivene’s voice turns to a whisper. “I never realized how good she was at what we did until she was gone.”
“Disrupting the veil?”
“Being a Sentinel is about more than disrupting the veil, Nia. MI-13 Sentinels were always in charge of watching. Keeping everyone safe.
Disrupting the veil is just a tiny aspect of that. And when we needed to raise the alarm, it was Alix’s job to persuade the knights. I’m not good with politics, and Wrythe bloody hates me. When I tried to warn him about this, he
didn’t listen.”
“Raphael would listen.”
“Raphael isn’t here right now, and he doesn’t always listen, either.
Anyway, Wrythe is a stubborn arsehole.” Nivene purses her lips. “The time for convincing is over. You and I are Sentinels, and we need to act. I can’t stop this on my own. In a few minutes, the trial will start, and all these cadets will spread out, becoming targets. The veil mage will begin to strike.”
I swallow. “What do you need me to do?”
“Our powers will help us track him down.”
I recall the hum when the previous veil mage struck at me and nod.
“We should split up and find him. You check out the steam fair. I’ll cover as much ground as possible north of here. If you spot him, do not engage. If he’s cornered, he’ll summon the veil to cause a diversion. In the middle of London, that would be a disaster. Hundreds of deaths. Take this.” She hands
me a tiny conch shell.
“What’s that?”
“Do you remember microphones and earbuds before the war? This is the Fey equivalent. It’ll let us communicate. Put it in your ear.”
I remember Bluetooth earbuds. They were quite comfortable. This is the exact opposite. It scratches my ear when I put it in, and I have to shove it hard for it to stay. “Argh. Couldn’t the Fey put rubber around it? Seriously.”
“It’ll do,” she says, and as she speaks, I hear her voice from the conch as well, a strange echo in my ear. “Go. Start the trial. Look for the veil mage as you go. And if you spot him, let me know. We’ll figure it out from there.”
“Okay.”
She pivots and strides through the peaked tower doorway and into the shadows. Her voice whispers through the magical conch shell in my ear.
“Good luck, Nia.”
