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“Now,” I say, “you. Spill everything.”

He sits next to me, leaning back on the pillows, one arm folded behind his head. Torchlight wavers over him, and he looks utterly satisfied with himself. Every inch the velvet-tinged voluptuary I’d first met in my thoughts.

“You want to know about Brittany?”

He asks this in English, which makes me smile. There’s something about him speaking with an accent that makes him seem younger.

“Yes. What happened?”

He sits up, his expression darkening. His body looks tense again. “I refused to lead the invasion of France. Father ordered me to command it, but I knew it would be a massacre. So, I disobeyed him. My father never lets anything go, so he made apoint. He slaughtered thousands. Left their bodies in the streets. Rivers of blood. He brought me there to show me the carnage. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is what happens when you disobey your king’s wishes.’ Then he told the world it was I who’d done it, and I let him. It was my atonement because the massacre really did happen because ofme.”

He’s staring at one of the torches, seemingly entranced. I swallow hard.

“And this is how he got you to join his campaign?”

“He told me that until I took charge, he’d drown every corner of Europe in blood. No one spared. Not the women. Not the children. I realized I had to step in and take control, make the war efficient, end it quickly. But he’s uncontrollable. He keeps pushing. Always wanting more.” His lips curl in a faint, bitter smile. “And that’s why I’m going to kill him.”

“I have total faith in you.”

“But I have to leave you again in a few days, I’m afraid. There’s a rebellion brewing in Bristol against the occupation. I’ve used all the control I have over council members to stall Father’s attack, but I’m worried he might snap. He’s already opened portals all over the south of England. It will be a bloodbath all over again, attacks from every direction. He plans to terrorize the humans into submission, just like he did in France.”

I swallow hard. “What’s his plan, exactly?”

“A swarm of dragons to swoop over the city and burn it all. I think probably in about three to four days. He’s opening portals now, one at a time, getting ready for the attack.”

My fingers curl into the sheets. “Talan, that’s not the only threat we’re facing. The war might be ending soon, but not in a way that we can allow to happen. If we don’t stop Wrythe Pendragon,allthe Fey will die. Right now, we’re relying on a fewof my friends to save the world, and they’re not as strong as you. And they don’t have a dragon.”

He leans in closer to me, his dark eyebrows drawing together. “Spill. Everything.”

CHAPTER 51

Tarasque’s scaled wings beat the air in a hypnotic rhythm. Each stroke of her wings glints peach-gold in the morning light. The sun catches on her iridescent scales in a rainbow of color. She unleashes a wild roar into the wind as we soar above Brocéliande.

I grip her jagged spikes as Tarasque takes us higher into the sky, my fingers numb from the cold. Talan’s arm cinches around my waist, securing me as she climbs higher. Behind me, his chest is warm and solid. I lean back into him.

I glance below. The snow is melting at last, revealing emerald beneath it. A river snakes through the grass, sparkling in the dawn’s first sun rays. It feels like the earth is waking.

I tilt my face upward as we breach a bank of mist, the clouds swallowing us whole. As we shoot upward, I catch my breath. We burst through the top, above it all, swooping over a blanket of foggy white. Exhilaration races through my veins.

Ahead, the portal yawns open—an unnatural tear between the Fey world and the skies above Cornwall.

“We’re almost there,” Talan says next to my ear. “Just another minute.”

I sense the portal’s pulsing power as we get closer, a fracture in the sky that emits a loud hiss. The magic charges the air around us, raising goosebumps on my skin.

My heart speeds up, and we dive through. As my stomach swoops, the world shifts around me, and then we’re soaring through a cloudless sky.

Below, the rugged Cornish coast stretches along the cliffs, clustered seaside cottages, and winding roads. For a dizzying second, I feel wildly disoriented, like the wind is about to pluck me off and cast me into the English city below.

The wind rakes at us, and Talan’s grip on me tightens. He pulls me back against his hard chest.

We arc southeast, racing over the coast toward Camelot, sweeping over cliffs that sheer off into the turquoise sea and the vernal coast. Sailboats bob in the water beneath us, bathed in sunlight.

I lick the salt off my lips and lean back into Talan. It’s a moment of such numinous perfection that it’s hard to remember we’re flying into battle.

But the moment I feel the hum and buzz of Camelot’s veil, my attention sharpens again.

Camelot and Avalon are shielded by a magical veil, woven centuries before. I’ve never had to disable it myself because our boats have their own magic in and out of the hidden city. I tune into the tangled weave of energy, and power thrums over my skin—so powerful, it makes my teeth chatter and sounds like a roaring in my ears. As we race closer, I summon the red bloom of my Sentinel powers and hurl my magic at the veil. It snags on the weave of magic, and the roaring in my ears dies.