CHAPTER 37
stand on a balcony overlooking the smooth, misty lake. Oak and apple trees line the calm shore. In the fall air, I can smell the applesI growing.
I’ve come out here to clear my thoughts before my final trial—one that I’ll be undertaking in front of every instructor and cadet at Avalon Tower. I don’t need any more dire warnings about how if I fail, everyone dies. Just the thought of being stared at by so many people has made me too nervous to eat.
My lungs feel tight as I breathe in the foggy air.
It’s cloudy today by the lake, and the chill crawls down my collar, settling on my skin. Mist roils and twists over the glassy surface.
I still have no idea what it means that I’m the Lady of the Lake—if that’s true—but I feel drawn to this calm pool of water. I’m at home here. Did Queen Morgan rule from across this lake? I’ve never seen what’s on the other side.
As I think about her, the prince’s dark voice whispers in my thoughts. The shadows play in the quiet, stony solitude of my chamber. The cold night speaks to me, whispering of my final kiss. The goddess of death, her wicked tongue blessing mine… “Fuck off, Talan.” I shiver, feeling like the quiet, cold air of the lake is freezing me to the bone. It worked, though. My thoughts are clearer now.
Turning, I head back through the balcony door, hugging myself as I walk through the towering gothic halls.
By now, the Culling has ended for most cadets.
But I have one more trial, the Sentinel trial, and I’m on my way right now, my nerves buzzing like the hum of the veil.
I can hear it as I approach the combat hall.
The magical mist thrums through the corridor. In about ten minutes, I’m going to be tested on my skill with the veil. There’s a lump in my throat, and I swallow hard. If I manage it, I’ll become an official Agent of Camelot. If I fail, beyond the terrible physical pain that the practice veil tends to unleash, I’ll be culled, and everyone will die.
All eyes are on me as I walk through the vaulted corridor, but I don’t look at anyone. I shouldn’t be worried. I’ve done it with the real veil a bunch of times before, but I always get more nervous in front of a crowd.
This final trial has become one of the most talked about —the final test of the Culling. Serana told me people are placing bets on me, and that the odds aren’t in my favor. I’m not entirely sure why everyone thinks I’m doomed to fuck up. It’s not like I’ve messed up any of the missions so far.
As I approach the combat hall, I see Raphael standing before a set of towering carved oak double doors. Nivene stands by his side, her cherry red
hair tied up in a bun.
“Nia,” he says.
“Hey,” I answer weakly.
“You’re all messed up,” Nivene blurts. “Diametric. Cursed.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You know, you really have a way with people.”
“I mean, you’re a Sentinel and a telepath. It weakens your powers and turns you mad.”
I press a finger to my lips and cut a sharp look at Raphael. “I thought you said to tell no one. And why are you bringing this up now when I’m supposed to be focusing?”
“Nivene can help,” Raphael says. “We have a few minutes before the trial starts.”
I’m thrown off by this change in the plan. I’d been trying to clear my head, not learn new things at the last moment.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’ve handled the veil before. The real veil, not this fake one. You have nothing to worry about.” I know what he needs to hear. “This will be easy.”
“You don’t understand,” Raphael says, and for the first time since the assassin’s attack, I see him almost…afraid. “This is not the veil-in-a-box we used during training. There’s a veil mage working with MI-13. He’s the one
creating the veil for this trial. And he’s in the pocket of the Pendragons.
Wrythe is furious that you beat Tarquin. It makes their gold torcs look like a fraud, so he’s primed this mage. The man is extremely skilled, and he’s going to make this nearly impossible for you to pass.”
Ah…so that’s why everyone’s betting against me.
Nivene looks pale. “I’ve just been in there. This veil barrier he’s creating?
It’s the real thing. And it will kill you if you don’t disrupt it completely.” She grips my bicep tightly, her fingernails digging in. “Kill you.”
Fear cuts me down to the bone, but I force myself to shrug and give them a placid smile. “Fine. But how hard can it be compared to the real veil? It’s thousands of miles long and rises above the clouds and sinks under the sea.
This can’t be more powerful than that. It’s all contained in the combat hall.”
Nivene turns to Raphael, scowling. “I thought she’s supposed to be intelligent.”
Raphael sighs. “Nivene, that’s not the way—”
“The entire problem is that it’s a smaller veil!” Nivene barks. Her words echo off the high ceiling. “The border veil is large, so it’s stretched thin.
You’ve seen it yourself, I’m sure. When you look at how the veil is built, you can actually see the holes and weaknesses in its structure because it’s spread out so far.”
Tension weaves through the air, sharpening the atmosphere. She’s right.
That’s exactly what I see every time.
“This one is condensed into a single room,” she hisses. “A force so powerful, it’ll disintegrate you if you step in it without your magic.
Evaporate. We’ll send your remains back to your mother in a matchbox. Just dust.”
I feel the blood draining from my face. “Are you trying to scare me until I can’t think straight?”
“I’m trying to say,” she goes on, “you’ll need all your focus to disrupt it, okay? And right now, your powers are unstable because they’re powers.
Plural. Fucked up.”
“Okay.” I still don’t know what she wants from me, but I now feel like puking.
Raphael is studying me closely, and his eyes seem to have more contrast than ever—the pale silver ringed with bright blue. His dark eyelashes lower.
With the way he’s staring at me, I feel as if he’s reading all my secrets. Like he’s telepathic. Sometimes, I get the sense he knows exactly how much I
think about him, and about every time we kissed. And about the way I felt wrapped in his strong arms as he healed me, his hand on my stomach.
Then, I’d felt safe around him.
Right now, I have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking, but the intense look in his eyes has my nerves fluttering. His unreadable expression often has the power to unnerve me.
“It’s fine, you two,” I say. “I know I need to suppress the telepathy.”
“But that doesn’t work, does it?” says Raphael coolly.
“That’s why I’m here,” Nivene says. “Sentinels don’t just disrupt veils.
We disrupt magic in general. If you cooperate, I can sever your telepathic powers. For good.”
My stomach drops, and I take a step back. “Hang on.”
Nivene steps in closer. “Sentinels are surgeons. Professor Throckmorton discovered this technique a few years ago to remove power from Fey prisoners. Now, obviously, I don’t want to remove your Sentinel powers. But what if I can remove your telepathy? Granted, I’ve never tried it before, but I think it’s possible. I can already feel it inside you. Violet, isn’t it? It has a wild, frenetic energy. Give me your hand.” She holds out her palm. “I’ll see what I can do.”
My blood roars in my ears. I hadn’t realized until now exactly how attached I feel to the voices I hear, to this power. Or that my instinct tells me I need to keep it.
Nivene frowns at me. “I’ll guide you through it. Come on, we don’t have much time.” She shakes her palm. “Nia, take my hand.”
“I’ll be fine without your help.” I need to tell them what they want to hear, or they’ll rip part of me away. “I’ve actually managed to control my telepathy at this point. I don’t even sense it at all now. It’s suppressed.”
“You’re lying,” says Nivene.
“Nia,” Raphael says, “you must do this. Avalon Tower needs another Sentinel. This isn’t just for you. Lives depend on your Sentinel powers.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. My telepathy is a part of me. I’m not going to let them take it away. It was the power that saved me during that combat trial. And that mission? We never would have found the map without this skill. But that’s not what Raphael needs to hear, is it?
And I don’t really know how to explain it to him because it’s mostly just instinct.
I plaster a smile on my face. “Why bother with this when I’ve got it under
control?”
“You told me that you don’t even like hearing those voices,” Raphael says. “Nia, I know this is not ideal.” He reaches out and touches my arm. His eyes are pleading. Warmth from his fingertips pours into me. “But if you don’t do this, I’m afraid you will die.”
I wonder how much that would bother him on a personal level versus just robbing MI-13 of another desperately needed Sentinel.
“Even I can’t disrupt the veil he’s conjuring there,” Nivene says. “Well… I probably can. I’m really good at this. But I’m not plagued with diametric
magic, and I’m much better trained—”
“Nivene, stop,” Raphael says sharply.
Her nostrils flare. “Fine. Talk some sense into her. But better be quick because they’re about to start. And I can sense that her magic is more
conflicted and erratic than ever.”
She pivots and stalks into the hall.
“You’re not telling the truth, are you?” Raphael’s eyes search mine like he’s trying to read me. He’s sifting through each one of my secrets. I can feel it, and it sends a shiver up my spine. Does he know that every night before I go to sleep, I think of him, of being curled up in his arms and breathing his scent?
A bell rings inside the hall, signaling that I’m about to start.
I swallow hard. Tell people the things they need to hear to calm them down. My ever-faithful strategy. “I’m going to go in now,” I say in a dulcet tone I always used to placate Mom and give him a sweet smile. “It will be fine, Raphael. You taught me everything I need to know. You’re a brilliant teacher.”
I clean up messes. It’s what I do. I keep people calm, happy, and safe. I’m a balm to soothe panic and rage and bare feet pierced with broken glass. I’m a blanket of fog to cool a sofa burning from a lit cigarette. I smile at the police when they come to the door, and I get them to leave happy.
“Everything will be fine,” I say again, touching his shoulder.
His ice-cold gaze doesn’t soften.
The heavy wooden doors to the main hall are shut, and I push them open with all my strength. They slam against the walls, announcing me with a loud crash. The room falls still, and everyone turns to look at me.
Cadets and teachers pack the chamber, seated on rows of bleachers that surround the combat hall. Just for me. There are even some faces I haven’t
seen in Avalon Tower before, members of MI-13 who’ve come to watch me, including some with gold torcs. In the center of the room, the veil writhes before the mage.
Its power is immense, the humming in my ears drowning out everything else. A roiling cloud of magical mist shimmering with colors, thick and impossible to look through it. It’s not very big. Ten feet high, maybe, and six feet wide, a gleaming wall of magic towering over me.
A few feet away from the veil stands Wrythe and a figure draped in black robes—the veil mage.
“Nia.” Raphael’s deep voice stops me in my tracks, and I look back at him. “I gave you an order, Nia. I ordered you to tell me the truth.”
I stare at him, aghast. Why is he so determined to fuck up my focus right before the trial that means everything? Right here, in front of everyone.
“Not now,” I whisper.
I can feel everyone staring at us.
“Not now?” His voice is cold and quiet. It’s like I don’t quite know him anymore. “I’m a knight. I’m not your friend, Nia. I brought you to this academy for a reason, and it wasn’t because I liked you. I need you to be a Sentinel. I don’t know what foolish notions you’ve got in your head, but you should have done as I told you. I see now that I was right about you before, wasn’t I? You’re a spoiled, selfish girl who grew up in dissolute chaos, and as a consequence, you know nothing of the real world, or of war, or of what it means to make sacrifices for other people. As far as you’re concerned, this is all a game.”
I stare at him, stunned. My cheeks flame red, and my stomach twists with nausea. “What happened to you?”
His face is an expressionless mask. “What happened to me? I don’t think you understand.” He leans closer. “I don’t think I like you very much, and I never have.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, and his fingers tighten into fists. “From what I can tell now, trash is a perfectly accurate description.”
There it is. The blow I’ve been waiting for all along. The heartbreak I knew he’d deliver. My eyes sting, and a lump forms in my throat. He’s the same fucking Raphael he always was. The one who ruined my life all those years ago.
A bolt of rage thuds in my head, making it hard to think. I turn away from him, stepping deeper into the room. The veil’s humming is muffled now because all I hear is the rhythmic beating of my own heart. My chest is
aching and hollow.
My gaze flicks to the enormous portrait of Merlin hanging on the wall.
He wears a deep blue robe flecked with silver stars. I think of him, imprisoned in that oak tree by the woman he loved. Sealed up, abandoned, with roots growing into his chest.
I am the cold mist coiling over the lake, I tell myself.
I pause, fury igniting my blood.
I turn back to Raphael. A woman with white-blonde hair stands beside him, and it takes me a minute to remember her name. Ginevra, I think—the Pendragon agent with a gold torc. She’s tall and elegant, her hair neatly swept up into something like a tiara. And she’s whispering to him, her eyes sliding to me.
I’m now utterly distracted from the extremely important task I’m about to undertake.
But right now, I’m not the calming, soothing Nia who wants to make everyone feel better. Right now, I’m a raging tempest churning the lake waters. I’m the sword forged in fire beneath its surface.
I narrow my eyes at Raphael. “Do you know what, Launcelot?” My voice echoes off the hall.
His attention cuts to me, and Ginevra stares at me with raised brows.
Heat ebbs from my veins, and I feel as if I’m turning to ice. “You’ve proven yourself to be the same self-obsessed twat you always were. You don’t have to be wealthy to think you’re better than everyone else, do you?
To some people, arrogance comes just as naturally as breathing. And in reality, Raphael, I saved your ass more than once, you egomaniacal, solipsistic, stuck-up prick. Do not speak to me again unless it’s an order.
Unless it’s life or death. You’re not good enough to speak to me, and you never were.”
My words have a growl in them that echoes off the combat hall. Raphael visibly flinches. Good.
The hum and buzz of the veil returns, and wrath floods my veins. I turn back to the veil mage. I know everyone is staring, stunned. I know they’ll be talking about this for weeks.
But right now, I don’t give a fuck what they think.
