Page 7

The horse rears back his head.

Talan flashes me a faint smile. “Absolutely not. Clover, the white mare, is yours. No one rides Maponos but me. I can be a little possessive sometimes.”

“Fine.” I take Clover’s reins and run my hand down her neck to reassure her. Sidling up to her left side, I hook my foot into the stirrup and swing my leg over her back, settling into the saddle. I lean forward, stroking her mane with my fingers, and whisper in Clover’s ear, “We’ll be good friends, you and I.”

She flicks her ear like she’s listening to me.

When I look up, Talan is already riding toward the gate. Shivering, I follow his lead, coaxing Clover into a steady canter.

Already, the heavy wooden gates are groaning open, and the soldiers part to let us through. As we pass, the guards bow.

We pass through the gate, and I urge Clover into a gallop.

My life is a maelstrom of chaos, but hasn’t it always been that way? A new disaster around every corner—Mom’s car smashed into a house, the sofa on fire, another eviction. Kidnapped, taken to an academy, engaged to an evil prince…

When the seas of turmoil rage around me, I can’t still the waves. All I can do is cling to the mast and hope I don’t drown.

I focus my mare onward, the wind shrieking in my ears.

Clouds slide over the moons, darkening the stars and blotting out the crimson sheen. Icy raindrops sparkle in the light from the windows as we ride through the winding city streets of Corbinelle, clopping past the slumbering occupants in the timber-frame homes that crowd the roads.

For a moment, I wonder if I should try to flee.

I can’t marry a man I’m trying to kill.

What, then? Running away from my problems is a childish impulse. I have a responsibility to do my job, to bring down the Court of Merlin, and I can’t abandon it.

My role is simple: get close to Talan and help Avalon Tower’s assassins kill him. Kill the prince. Kill the king.

Most importantly, don’t let my secret get out.

My mind is a whirlwind of panic and fatigue as I follow Talan out of the city and into the forests of Brocéliande. Overhead, the clouds thin, and moonlight illuminates a cobbled road that winds out of the city, toward the dark forest of oaks and rowans. Talan leads the way, and I follow, my body aching from days of travel. My thighs and ab muscles burn intensely.

As we ride into the woods, the shadows grow thicker, the air heavy with the scent of soil and moss. Faint, crimson-kissed moonlight pierces the canopy above us, dappling the earth with rosy flecks. Tiny lights flicker above us beneath the trees’ leaves. Fireflies, I think.

After a while, the trees thin to a clearing. Nestled in the woods is a ramshackle oak cottage with shuttered windows. Every line looks crooked: the mossy chimney juts out at an odd angle, and the roof sags on the right side. By all appearances, it could tumble onto the tree next to it.

It’s a wreck of a house, but right now, I can relate.

“Here we are.” Talan stops his horse and swiftly dismounts.

“Where are we, exactly?” I grip the saddle and slide off Clover’s back. “This little cottage doesn’t seem your style.”

Talan hitches Maponos to a tree and arches an eyebrow at me. “Exactly how much do you know about my style?”

“I know you like pearls and silver rings, which seems at odds with a forest hovel.”

He turns to me and puts his finger to his lips. “This is where we find our cleric and you become the newest member of the de Morgan royal family.”

My stomach clenches. No delays, then.

He turns, knocking on the little rounded green door inset into the misshapen wooden walls.

I rub my arms, shivering in the cold. The door is opened by an old man in midnight blue robes. A nightcap slouches over his head, and he stares at us from beneath wild silver eyebrows. Behind him, a fire lights up the room with gold.

“Wadoyouwant?” he barks. He narrows his eyes at Talan. “Oh. It’s you.”

I’ve never seen anyone react to Talan with such a blasé attitude, like he’s an annoying neighbor turning up to ask for some spare sugar.