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“Why couldn’t they pass a message along with you?”

“If Viviane were still alive, she’d look out for us,” Nivene says darkly. “But with her gone, it’s just Wrythe, Sir Kay, and Amon calling the shots, and I don’t think they truly understand our position here.”

“What about Raphael? Surely he can make them see sense.”

“Raphael’s position is that you should get the fuck out of Brocéliande,” Nivene says. “He wants you to return to Camelot and never leave again.”

I nod. That sounds familiar, considering he’s told me that repeatedly.

“Give me a second to think.” I frown, pulling my cloak more tightly around me. My gaze slides toward the guarded portal. “I’ll have to go through the portal here. It’s the only way I can get to Avalon Tower and back in the same night.”

Nivene nods. “And what will we do about the guards?”

“None of them knowwhythey’re guarding a portal,” I say. “Talan is keeping that secret to himself. They think they’re guarding a tree commemorating our love. So, if we give them a good enough reason, they’ll leave their station. I’ll go to Avalon Tower and back in one night.”

“Why not control their minds?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Too messy. Talan will immediately know it was me. And there are too many of them. No, it’ll have to be something to drive them away from their post. We must do this tonight, before Talan returns. Do you think you can organize a distraction within a few hours?”

I waitin my new library room, where candlelight wavers over the flickering, gold-foil book spines. Turning back to the window, I search for signs of Nivene, and my entire body hums with tension. I haven’t seen a single sign from my spy allies yet.

While Nivene was organizing the distraction, I made a show of it being a day like any other. I ate lunch in the Great Hall with twenty noble ladies. A duchess who’d never spoken to me before gifted me with a diamond brooch. In the afternoon, I joined a group of ladies for tea, and we all gossiped about the dragon in the Lost Palace. and I heardallabout a noble named Lord Kahedin, bedridden with the Ichor Plague. In the evening, we shifted from tea to mead, as one often does in the Fey court. I made a point to make it seem that I drank more than any of them, slurring my words by the end, even if I was only pretending to sip. I might as well keep tongues wagging about all the wrong things and let them think I’m an idiot—no threats to the kingdom from this drunk little princess.

As I wait for a signal, I peer out the window at the dark courtyard, searching the moonlit snow for movement. When is the resistance going to act? Every minute we waste is one less minute I have to?—

A shriek peals through the quiet night.

Lights appear on the top of a far wall—flaming arrows, rocketing toward the palace. The skill of Fey archers is like nothing humans could ever achieve, and the arrows soar hundreds of feet. A fiery bolt lands in the shrubs near the great door, igniting the leaves. Another arrow crashes through a window a few towers away. Even from here, I hear screams ringing out, and smoke is already rising from the shattered window.

My breath speeds up, and my nerves crackle. With my palms pressed against the glass, I watch guards scrambling across the courtyard from the direction of the key portal, heading for the castle wall. They head for the gates in a fiery rain of arrows, one hitting its mark. The soldier’s cloak ignites, and from the distance, he looks like the dancing flame of a match. As his screams ring out through the night, I wonder how many people will die for this mission, all because Wrythe insists on speaking to me in person.

Andwhy, exactly was he so adamant about this? Perhaps because he loatheshalf-breedslike me. Wrythe wants a fully human Pendragon to end the war, to be the hero. He’s probably hoping I’ll die during the journey or that I’ll be captured on my way back.

But there’s no time to ruminate on how much I hate that soulless fucker. This is my only chance to make a break for it, but there’s one more loose end to tie up first. I hurry to the bedroom door and yank it open. Two soldiers are standing guard, and they turn to face me. I’m dressed in a see-through negligee, my feet bare, my hair a mess. One guard’s gaze falters, sliding downward—exactly as I’d planned. I see his throat bob as he catches a glimpse of my nipples pressing against the thin fabric of my nightgown.

“Wha’s going on?” I slur drunkenly. “Wha’s all that noise?”

“An attack, Your Highness,” one of them hurriedly says. “Best stay in your room. Make sure your window is latched. Keep the door locked.”

I try to step outside, and they bar the way. “Your Highness, you really need to stay inside.”

I sway unsteadily on my feet. “Okay,” I finally say, stepping back. “I’ll latch the window and bar the door. You men will keep me safe, right? I’m going to sleep.” I put a finger to my lips. “Shh.”

“Absolutely, Your Highness.”

“I’ll tell the prince about your dedication to my safety.” I blink at them, mouth ajar, eyes unfocused, and shut and bolt the door.

No one will be able to step inside now, and if they call me and I don’t answer, they’ll assume I’m too drunk to hear.

Time to move.

Quickly, I pull on my hunting outfit, sliding three knives in my leather leggings. I pull my black cloak off a hook and wrap myself in its warmth. Crouching down by my mattress, I remove a hidden rope and grapple.

As I cross to the window, I hear shouting in the distance. The flames from the shattered window are spreading, and the scent of burning wood wafts into the air. Outside, darkness reigns, and the flaming arrows have stopped.

By now, Nivene and the resistance must be fleeing into the forest on horseback. And from here, I can see that the ley portal, forgotten and abandoned.

I crank a handle, winching open the window. It doesn’t open fully, and I’m going to need to squeeze my ass out a narrowspace, but I’m sure I can make it. I secure the grapple to the bedpost, testing it twice to ensure it holds firm, then let it unspool out the window. The dark courtyard seems miles away, snow beneath the billowing smoke. Heart thundering, I climb out, legs first, feet searching for the narrow stone footholds on the wall, the chill biting through the thin leather of my boots.