Page 91 of Lady of the Lake

Nivene’s already back in Camelot. I don’t know what she’s told them. Maybe the truth—that I fell for the man we weresupposed to kill. That I wanted to protect him, and I couldn’t leave him behind.

As I approach the guarded portal, I try to refocus my thoughts.

My cover is already blown. I don’t need to pretend anymore. I don’t have to simper and flirt and fall into their arms.

Strangely freeing, really.

Moonlight streams over the portal. It cuts across the snowy earth,casting sharp-edged shadows across the ground.

Four guards stand around the tree, shivering miserably at their posts. They turn to watch as I march closer.

With each step, I summon the power of the three. The magic rises from the earth, coiling through my veins, thrumming through my bones. Morgan’s strength, Nimuë’s magic rippling through me. Cold as the snow, the tattoos pulse on my wrists.

One of the guards steps closer to me. “Good evening, Princess,” he says. “Are you…? You’re not dressed, Princess. Is everything all right?”

I don’t need to kill them or hurt them all. I only need to touch the stone.

A guard lifts his hand to bar my path. My lip curls, and I shove himhardinto the nearest soldier. As they topple into each other, they grunt, armor clanking.

I summon my Sentinel powers and reach for the rough, cold stone.

CHAPTER 43

The silence envelops me as I step through the portal, so sudden it makes me dizzy.

On the craggy earth of Avalon, I catch my breath in the quiet.

For the entirety of my dragon flight, the storm roared around me. Here, I’m left with silence and emptiness—Mordred’s only companions for centuries.

The air is warmer here, and even if my clothes are still half-frozen, my teeth stop chattering. Spring has arrived in Avalon.

I kneel and take a deep breath, inhaling the scents of Avalon’s soil, and apples, and the gnarled roots of the oak trees nearby.

I was so close. A few more days with Talan, and maybe I could have eased him into the truth, little by little. I could have controlled the narrative, told the story the way it needed to be told.

But maybe I’m delusional. Really, it was doomed from the beginning.

I push myself back, resting on a broken column. Only now do I realize that Mordred isn’t here like he usually is. Every other time I’ve come through the portal, he’s been waiting for me in the shadows. This time, I’m alone.

I stand, brushing dirt from my leggings, and that’s when I see it—movement in the darkness, a shift in the shadows. Mordred steps forward, taking form from the night. His crown catches the moonlight, a sharp halo of spiked silver.

He frowns, assessing me. “Daughter.”

I clear my throat. “It’s been a while.”

“You look terrible. Just dreadful.”

I nod. “Thanks, man. I feel like shit.”

His frown deepens. “Care to explain what happened? You and the prince left on the dragon a few days ago. Then you shoved his soldiers to get into the portal, and now you’re here, smelling of blood, dirt, and defeat.”

I could only thank the gods his little silver moth hadn’t been watching Talan bring me to orgasm in the hunting lodge.

“Talan figured it all out.”

“Figured out what?”

“Everything. That I work for Avalon Tower as an undercover agent. That I’m demi-Fey.” I let out a sigh. “And in the heat of the moment, I may have also mentioned that his throne belongs to me.”

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