CHAPTER 7
lean over the guard rail, staring at the choppy sea. The medicinal tea wears off about every half hour, and I’m retching. It’s a reallyI charming cycle of swallowing tea and bringing it up again.
After the sea serpent’s attack, we all spend the rest of the journey teetering between exhaustion and slightly hysterical fear. Everyone, that is, except Raphael. As far as I can tell, the man never tires or experiences emotion.
Hours ago, we dropped the fugitives by the towering white cliffs at the south of England, but the journey just seemed to stretch on. And on. And on.
With a broken ship, we’ve been moving along the southern coast all night at a snail’s pace. If my geography is correct, we’re sailing around Cornwall.
Seagulls squawk and swoop overhead. I wipe a shaky hand across my lips, my gaze on the horizon. The first blush of dawn tinges the sky, and the fiery curve of the sun rises above Cornwall. At last, we’re heading toward land, the foggy mouth of a river. Even now, hours later, my dress is still damp, and I’m chilled to the bone. The garment is ripped in several places, and there’s a wooden splinter in my forearm. Serpent blood stains the white fabric.
Raphael steers us into the river, and rickety wooden piers rise up on either side of us. An empty iron cage hangs from a post on one of the docks. I blink at it. Did we travel back in time? The ominous metal box looks like something they once hung pirates in.
Tana hands me another cup of tea. “Almost there, love.”
“To Camelot?”
She nods. “It was once part of Cornwall, you know, until the king of Wessex invaded. The rulers of Camelot used magic to hide it. Some say it was Merlin himself, protecting Camelot from his oak tree. Some say he
doesn’t die.”
Goosebumps rise on my skin.
Around us, the river narrows. On either side, stone and timber frame buildings crowd the riverbanks. A thin fog hangs over them, tinged by rosy morning light. Gas lamps lend an ochre glow to the mist. This place really feels like stepping back in time.
“How come no one knows about Camelot?” For some reason, I’m whispering.
“It’s secret, of course.” She smiles at me. “That’s what makes it a perfect place for spies. Only permitted ships can enter.” She sighs. “This river is haunted, you know. I can feel it. A long time ago, the Fey used to cut off people’s heads and throw them in the river, and now, I can hear their spirits whispering.”
A shiver runs through me. “Oh.” I can almost hear their whispers myself.
“I didn’t know the Fey once lived close to humans.”
Tana smiles faintly. “Oh, yes, in peace for a while.” She cocks her ear at the water, as if listening to something, then shrugs. “They named the tower after the old Fey kingdom, Avalon.” Tana smiles wistfully. “In some parts of Camelot, you can still find the roads and temples built by the Pendragon kings long ago. The Pendragon walls encircle the city, hundreds of feet high.
A few hundred years ago, we stopped putting severed heads on the city gates, you’ll be pleased to know. At least, I’m pretty sure we stopped.”
I clear my throat. “I’m glad to hear it.” That’s twice now she’s mentioned severed heads.
“Our academy dates back to the Roman occupation of Britain. You’ll learn all about it soon enough.”
We drift past stone buildings that stretch up into the morning sky. As the wind skims over me, I take another sip of warm tea and stare as we slowly drift toward a white bridge. My heart flutters. The remaining mast and the engine’s tall pipe will never clear it.
No sooner does the thought cross my mind than the bridge splits in the middle with a metallic groan, the two halves lifting into the sky to make room for our ship. Once we clear the bridge, we glide further east, where the river
widens into a glassy lake. In the distance, a castle towers over the river.
My breath catches, and I stare at it. Camelot. The stone has an almost golden tinge, the towers cloaked in wisps of fog. Part of the castle stretches out into the lake, shrouded in mist.
“Avalon Tower, Camelot’s oldest castle,” Tana whispers, pointing to the right. “In the days of Arthur, Avalon was out there, occupied by the Fey and ruled by the evil Queen Morgan. She’s dead now, defeated by the Pendragons. For fifteen hundred years, Avalon has been lost in the mists of
the lake, and no one can find it.”
“And Merlin was a Fey?”
“Oh, yes. A Fey ally to the humans, but things fell apart.”
I turn to look at Camelot again, and my jaw drops. Tana said the castle was called Avalon Tower, but it’s a city surrounded by walls and gates, turrets and spires, connected by high walls that rise over the river. Moss climbs the stone, the growth so dense that it makes the walls seem to blend with the natural world around them. The fog thins, and the rising sun washes the golden stone in a rosy shade.
Our ship glides into a narrow canal and bumps into a wooden dock. On the main deck, I can hear Raphael barking commands to the crew. Tudor- style timber frame houses line one side of the canal, and apple trees grow on the other.
My bleary eyes take in the activity all around us, burly men unloading cargo from ships, others pulling ropes to moor us to the wooden dock. A mixture of scents assaults my nose—spices, apples, the sweat of the workers.
Finally, the ship is moored, and I close my eyes, thanking the gods that we’ve arrived at last.
I’m in a daze as I follow Tana down the gangplank. Even here on steady earth, the ground seems to still move beneath me.
Dressed in a dark peacoat, Raphael leads us off the ship toward a stone archway. He shoves his hands in his pockets, not even looking at me. Viviane glides along next to him.
But when we’re in the archway, she stops abruptly, blocking my path.
She stares down at me, cocking her head. “May I see your passport?”
“Why?”
“I want to see exactly what the French soldiers read.”
I retrieve it from my leather bag. It’s streaked with water in a few places but readable. I hand it to her, and she turns and walks away, little pieces of
ripped paper fluttering in her wake.
The torn pieces of my passport.
Panicking, I hurry after her. “What are you doing?”
She whirls and grabs me by the throat, pinning me to the wall. “I don’t want you here,” she says through gritted teeth. “You’re weak, you’re impulsive, and you threatened to inform the French soldiers about us. I think Raphael is making a bad decision because of a pretty face. Do you know how much that infuriates me?”
I don’t answer. Hard to talk when you can’t breathe.
“Lucky for me,” she goes on, “you’re unlikely to survive even the first weeks of training. It’s brutal and dangerous, and the Pendragons will cut you down in a heartbeat. You’ll be dead before you can betray us.”
She releases me, and I gasp for breath, my hands going to my bruised throat. Little does she know, Raphael thinks I’m an idiot, but something tells me I’m better off if she believes someone powerful is on my side.
“If you don’t want me here, then why the hell did you rip up my passport?” I croak.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d let you leave, now that you can expose our location?” She’s still boxing me in. “You’re not leaving.
And if I get even the faintest hint that you’re going to pull another stunt like threatening to inform on us, I will end your life. Maybe your dinner will be poisoned. Maybe I’ll slit your throat in your sleep. Maybe I’ll simply bash your pretty little head against a rock. Understood?”
She hurries away into the narrow streets, and as much as I have no desire to follow her, I have no choice. Most of my money is in the spa hotel in France. I no longer have my passport. Without the help of someone powerful, I’m stuck in Camelot.
I touch my neck, wincing as I catch up to the others.
Raphael apparently didn’t see a thing. He looks relaxed as he leads us through a narrow network of cobbled streets. Timber and brick buildings nestle on either side of the lanes, and smoke coils from chimneys above us.
Bloodstained and tattered, with dirt smeared on the back of my dress, I look like one of the fugitives I just rescued. Except here, in Camelot, no one notices. Who are all these people?
It’s not long before the alley opens up to a large thoroughfare, where horse-drawn carriages race over the stones. Is this really where I live now?
Camelot? I have no idea how long I’ll be here, or how I’d get out if I had to.
Mom will miss me bitterly. Or at least, she’ll miss that I bring home money and pay the rent. What on earth is she going to do without me? I guess maybe it’s time she figures that out. And in any case, it doesn’t seem like I have much of an option to get out of this.
No more bookstore. No more one-bedroom apartment shared with Mom as she binges coke and alcohol. A distinct silver lining.
We walk down a gently sloping hill toward the castle that looms over the lake of Avalon. From here, I can see that Avalon Tower is a vast construction, with two sets of walls surrounding a number of central buildings. Raphael leads us to a gatehouse set into one of the walls. He still hasn’t uttered a word to me. I suppose we did declare our hatred for one another.
A line of guards stands outside the gatehouse, their smart red cloaks vibrant against the stone and oak. As Raphael marches up to the gate, the soldiers part without a word, like leaves drifting on a lake. Above the arched door, the words AVALON TORR are carved in the weathered stone. Old English, I think. That carving must be over a thousand years old.
The heavy oak door groans open, and I step across the threshold. A strange thrill flutters over my skin. This place feels important—ancient, powerful.
Across the courtyard, a central castle stands on a gently rising hill. It’s made of ivory stone, and its spires loom over us, four stories high. The sight makes me dizzy, and, unbidden, a nursery rhyme floats through my thoughts: Avalon Tower, the Midnight hour, bury his head in the raven’s bower… Strange rhyme, definitely not something Mom would sing to me. Maybe a nanny?
Tana yawns and points at the ivory castle. “That’s Merlin’s Tower, and it’s sort of the central location. Offices, the dining hall, the training halls. A top floor that none of us are allowed to visit. The dorms are in the other towers.”
Viviane is waiting for me at the door to Merlin’s Tower. She still looks furious, and Raphael is already inside. “Are you coming?”
“Sorry!” Tana says, touching my arm. “I’m bloody starving. I’ll meet you for breakfast in a few, yeah?”
Tana takes off and breezes past Viviane, Into the tower. I hurry up the stairs after her. Viviane tuts and opens the door, and we cross into a vaulted stone hall. Candles in sconces illuminate the stone walls and arched ceiling.
Raphael peers into an office by the doorway, one crammed with books and papers, and a burning fireplace. A man with a blond beard sits at a desk. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and something around his neck that looks like a silver collar, with an opening at the front.
“Ah.” He peers at Raphael over his glasses. “Who have you brought with you, Raphael?” His booming voice echoes in the corridor. This man could be an opera singer.
I’m just relieved that everyone is speaking in English and not Fey, since my accent is apparently terrible.
“A new recruit.” Raphael glances at me for a fraction of a second. “She’s going to work with us.”
The man pulls out a large silver ring made of twisted metal, like the one he’s wearing, and hands it to Viviane. She slides it around her neck.
“Thanks,” she says. “I’m going to get out of these filthy clothes!”
I stare after her. That’s exactly what I want to do—bathe, change, sleep for ten hours—but I’m still here with Raphael.
When I turn back to him, I see that he’s wearing a similar collar, only in gold.
“Did you find the fugitives?” the bearded man asks.
“Most of them,” says Raphael. “But they said their contact wasn’t waiting for them. Amon, do you have any idea what happened? Their contact, Leia, was supposed to—”
“She’s dead,” Amon said. “The Fey forces caught her. And Alix. And Rein.”
Silence stretches out. Then Raphael whispers, “Damn. We lost three crew members to a sea serpent attack.” He runs a hand through his hair. “The Fey must have found out about the exfiltration op.”
“It’s a terrible loss,” Amon says heavily. “But worst of all is Alix.
Without her, we’re down to one Sentinel. MI-13 can’t function with only one.”
Raphael levels his pale gaze on me, the torchlight gilding his beautiful features. “That’s where she comes in.”
Ah, there it is, that note of disdain again, like he resents everything about
this.
I wave and smile at Amon.
“Nia was simply on holiday in France,” Raphael goes on, talking about me as if I’m not there. “She brought the fugitives to us by hiding them in the
veil. It turns out she’s a Sentinel, and she had no idea. She apparently didn’t even know she’s demi-Fey.”
Amon’s eyes widened. “The gods must have sent you to us.”
A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I lean against a cold stone wall.
“At your service.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake,” Amon huffs, “get her something to eat before she faints in the entryway. Don’t you travel with snacks, Raphael?”
Raphael points to the end of the long hall. “You can get breakfast. Head down this hall and take the stairs on the right. I need to debrief Amon.”
My eyebrows rise. “I’m allowed to wander around a spy academy by myself? Just stroll in and get breakfast?”
“Eight guards already saw you walk in with me,” Raphael replies, “one of them a telepath. If you weren’t supposed to be here, you’d already be dead.”
