Page 112 of Lady of the Lake

We’re through, sweeping over Lake Avalon. Mist twists over its glassy surface, and I breathe out a sigh of relief. We made it.

Tarasque swoops gracefully above the lake, her wings casting shadows over the water below. I suspect Talan is surveying the city with a soldier’s eye, but I’m staring at its radiant beauty.

Amber stone rises through the lake’s mist, the castle’s spires stretching into the skies like golden scepters. Beyond the Tower’s walls, the city sprawls, winding streets lined with peaked rooftops and top-heavy façades. Arched bridges span narrow canals, and brambles cling to aged walls. It’s an ancient city carved into the lake’s shore with the chisel of centuries and wrapped in fog. The city looks like a dream.

And Ireallyhope the day will not end with it ablaze from dragon fire.

I feel my father’s attack echoing through my bones. Just like me, he invaded Camelot centuries ago, his sword drawn. Just like me, it was to protect the Fey.

Someday, maybe I’ll be in Camelot’s paintings, the villainess riding into the city on the back of an enemy dragon.

Tarasque arcs over the lake, sweeping back into the mist again. Our plan is to land on a balcony of Merlin’s Tower. This will be incredibly difficult, but it’s the only way. If we land anywhere else, the Iron Legion will stop us before we ever get to the viruses.

A dragon isn’t exactly discreet, but the tower is steep and four stories high. From the moment we land, we’ll have maybe a minute or two before anyone can make it to the top to stop us. From the balcony, we’ll race to the secret room behind Merlin’s portrait. There, we’ll grab the vials and destroy them, then escape again with the help of Tarasque. That’s the plan to save all of Fey-kind.

My heart is slamming against my ribs as we fly closer. Bells clang as we approach. Alarms—I never thought Camelot’s bells would ring for me.

I spot the giant anti-dragon gun. It’s pointing at us from the turret of Shalott Tower, not an old, unmaintained weapon like those in Dover.Thisgunis new, and it swings, tracking our flight. It stands just above the balcony where Talan’s mother once languished, imprisoned by Mordred.

“Talan!” I scream, pointing. “Dragon gun! It’s trained on us.”

Talan’s body goes tense, and Tarasque must sense his apprehension, because she roars, sending a gout of searing fire into the air.

Ever since the failed dragon attack in Scotland, Avalon Tower command must have realized that they might be a target for such an attack. And they prepared.

Gunshots ring out, echoing through the air. That gun is a death machine, even for Tarasque.

A spray of blood spatters from Tarasque’s left wing, and the world tilts as she tumbles sideways. I clench my teeth, clinging to Talan as hard as I can. For a few seconds, earth and sky spiral around me as Tarasque spirals downward. Only through Talan’s unyielding strength, his ceaseless grip, am I staying on the dragon’s back.

Camelot’s shoreline races closer—the docks, the stone alleys. Then, with a mighty beat of her wings, Tarasque manages to rear at the last second, rising slowly. The gun keeps firing. If we land on the battlements where I’d planned, it will still be able to hit us.

“Into the courtyard!” I shout into the wind.

Talan pulls Tarasque over the fortress walls, keeping her low to avoid the gunfire.

“Merlin’s Tower!” I point to the ivory castle standing on a hill, four stories high with apple trees nearby. “There. There’s a balcony on one of the towers. See it? We have to make it there.”

“It’s too narrow for Tarasque!” Talan shouts back. “She’ll never fit.”

“We’ll jump.”

He mutters something under his breath that sounds likemadnessbut doesn’t argue.

Bells are still clanging, and screams ring out from the city below, but they’re muffled by the adrenalin coursing through my blood.

We bank sharply toward Merlin’s Tower. A shell whistles past us from the anti-dragon gun, and it explodes near Lothian Tower.

My stomach clenches. There are bodies in Avalon Tower’s courtyard. Civil war has erupted in Camelot, and the dead litter the ground.

Now, we’re their new target. Knights unleash a storm of arrows—iron fury loosed from crossbows, screaming through the air. Tarasque’s scales are impervious, but Talan and I aren’t. One well-placed shot, and we’re dead.

“Take her to the far side of the fortress!” I shout. “We want to draw Wrythe’s forces away from Merlin’s Tower. Let them think we’re going to land in the north. It’ll give us a few extra minutes to get the viruses.”

We veer past Merlin’s Tower, and the soldiers beneath us charge after us, abandoning their positions outside the tower. Tarasque circles, arcing wildly, her pattern hard to predict. She’s skillfully evading the shells.

When we’ve created enough chaos, we sweep back again, heading for Merlin’s Tower.

Gunfire blazes from the turret, each report a sharp crack in the chaos. Tarasque flies in a wild route. An arrow skims past her eye, and Tarasque roars, the sound rumbling down my bones. Unleashing a torrent of hot flames, she lights up the sky.

---