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“Yes!” Wrythe quickly pounces. “By conjuring the veil in your mind. A technique that I gather you were taught by the other Sentinel. Except…you already crossed over to Brocéliande before and met the Dream Stalker. Are you sure he didn’t crawl into your mind back then?”

I keep my face impassive, knowing that I can’t say the truth—that even then, I knew how to block Talan out because Mordred had taught me. Instead, I school my features. “If that were the case, would he have let me find out about the dragon attack? And the trap he set for the human allies?”

Sir Kay raises his hands. “We brought you here so you can brief us thoroughly on everything that has happened in the past two weeks. This way, you can answer any questions that we have and assuage our concerns. Let’s start at the beginning.”

So, I do as he says. I give them a thorough briefing, from the moment I returned to Brocéliande. I answer a few questions posed by Sir Kay, and endless questions and accusations from Wrythe and Genivieve. It takes hours but feels like days.

Finally, Sir Kay pushes back his chair and stands. “Enough. Dame Nia has answered everything in a very satisfactory manner. Nia, we’ll get only one chance to assassinate King Auberon and the Dream Stalker. In all likelihood, the assassination will require your active help. But it can’t be done if they suspect you. How confident are you in your cover? Does anyone suspect you? We want to take them both out soon.”

Soon.

My thoughts snag on something thorny, something upsetting I don’t want to name, a briar tangled in the underbrush of my thoughts, pricking at my awareness. I pretend it’s not there, that I don’t feel the barbs.

I clear my throat. “No one suspects I’m a spy. No one still alive, anyway. There are a number of people there who hate me as the commoner who ascended to royalty. King Auberon wants me dead, and I think Countess Arwenna does, too, but they’re not willing to take on Talan directly. I’m perfectly safe. I’m heavily guarded at all times. As far as Talan is concerned, we’re only in a fake relationship, nothing more. I wouldn’t say hecompletelytrusts me, but he needs me. I have the mind-control powers he wants, and he doesn’t view me as a threat.”

Sir Kay nods. “Good.”

“But to help the assassins, I need to know the details of the plan. When and how will it happen? And who is involved?”

A sharp silence fills the hall, and then Sir Kay clears his throat. “This is still in discussion. We will send everything you need to know once it’s settled.”

Sir Kay has been a commander for years, and you don’t command an organization of spies without being able to lie convincingly. But there are many people in the room, and I see enough shifting glances to realize that what he just told me is bullshit.

They have a plan, or at least part of it. But they won’t share it with me.

“This has been far from reassuring,” Wrythe says. “I, for one, am left with more questions than I had before. I have concerns that Nia Melisande can’t be trusted. And there’s no reason to continue with this. Not when there’s a much more reliable solution?—”

“Enough!” Sir Kay thumps the table. “We’ve discussed this over and over. Your so-called solution is not an option.”

As he’s shouting, the Iron Legion guards take a step forward. For a second, I wonder if they’re about to pounce on Sir Kay. I’m not the only one who notices their movement—Raphael’s hand shifts to his hilt, eying the closest guard. I covertly reach for a knife hidden in my leggings.

But Wrythe gives a tiny shake of his head, and the guards pull back.

“I will not discuss this again, Seneschal,” Sir Kay says. He turns to me. “Nia, you said he doesn’t yet completely trust you. Can yougethim to trust you completely?”

There it was again, those thorns scraping at my thoughts from beneath the surface. My breath shallows, and I try to push the anxiety away. “I need some time, but I think I can.”

“Then we move forward with our plan,” Sir Kay says. “Thank you, Nia. You’re truly our greatest hope.”

If I really am their greatest hope, they should trust me with the plan.

My throat tightens. Why do I feel like a sacrificial lamb more than a knight?

CHAPTER 15

Iyank open the door to Lothian Tower, my heart pounding, and climb the stairs my father once ascended centuries ago, when he broke in here to kill a king.

But me? I just want to go to my room. And right now, I need to see my friends like willow roots need water.

Time isn’t on my side, and I can’t stay long. Nivene promised to keep the portal unguarded for most of the night, but I can’t push my luck longer than twenty minutes here.

As I pass one of the tower windows, a high-pitched shriek freezes me. My heart kicks up in the cold, slow horror of recognition. I know that shriek. To this day, it haunts my nightmares and wakes me in a cold sweat.

It’s the sound of my mom, drunk.

I peer out the stairwell’s arrow slit, and nausea turns my stomach. Mom is staggering across the courtyard in a meandering path, clutching a bottle of wine.

Just as I’m about to run out after her, Raphael appears from the shadows. He hurries toward her, steadying her.