The surrounding country gradually got loftier and greener as we passed an abandoned monastery on the hillside and derelict farms that dotted the area. It took half a day of walking, skirting the woods and mountains to get to the king’s road that led to the town of Caeleron.
As the day wore on, we hitched a ride with a farmer on his wagon. “This was once a small village,” said Penelope as we bumped our way down the dirt road on the back of the wagon piled high with sacks of turnips. “But when Dorian the First—more commonly known now as Dorian the Great—built Caeleron Castle almost a thousand years ago, slowly the village below grew to service the needs of the castle whenever the king or queen were in residence.” Penelope lowered her voice. “We must be very careful—no one must know we are here. It is our one and only chance of getting into the castle.”
What started as a beautiful spring day turned dark and foggy as we approached the town. Above us, rising on a rocky hilltop, lay the great fortress of Caeleron Castle, the ancestral seat of the Ravenswood dynasty, which dominated the valley beyond. Caeleron was located at a crossing of trade routes and situated at the base of the hill. I peered up through the mist that had settled on the massive fortress looming over the walled town as we crossed a narrow stone bridge and passed over the river.
We thanked the farmer as we got off the wagon and entered the town through the western gate into the outer section, where the workers, shopkeepers, and artisans lived.
Caeleron bustled with life as traders and travelers from all over Avalonia traversed the four town gates. Guards were everywhere, dressed in black uniforms with the symbol of the black rose rimmed in gold, milling about the town gates and checking everyone’s papers as they entered the town. It was distressing to see so many of Morgana’s soldiers here in Eldoren. Delacourt must have called for assistance; his soldiers were also there in dark blue uniforms, eyes ravenous with the promise of riches now that they had the run of the land.
“Name?” said one guard, glancing at the papers Penelope held out to him.
“Lady Sonia Lockhart,” said Penelope without hesitation, dropping a few coins into the guard’s hands. I knew this was the way things always worked. A little money passed over and the guards wouldn’t ask many questions. Of course, it helped that because of our glamour we looked nothing like the wanted posters plastered throughout the town. “We have traveled all the way from Fenth to see the coronation.”
The guards looked at Tristan and me. “And these two?”
“My daughter and our guard,” said Penelope imperiously.
The guard handed the papers back to Penelope and ushered us along, counting his coins unashamedly before slipping them into his pocket. The greedy guard had no idea he had allowed a Firedrake to walk through the front door.
We hurried through the narrow, cobbled streets and closely packed stone houses, while flickering light from candles and hearths streamed onto the streets, partly illuminating some areas and reducing others to shadow. We passed street vendors who had started packing up their wares and heading out of the town, while shop owners closed wooden shutters and locked up. I spotted numerous black-uniformed guards carrying oil lamps, inspecting the streets, and calling out a curfew. The town was crawling with them. Delacourt really wasn’t taking any chances. I pulled my hood closer around me and hurried on past them.
I clasped the medallion around my neck and made sure it was hidden. It was safer to keep the Amulet of Auraken on when surrounded by so many magic users. At least now, no one would be able to detect my magical presence, not even the Drakaar.
Penelope ducked into a small street, and we followed quickly, our cloaks and hoods pulled tightly around us. It was a much darker part of the town, where hooded figures traversed the arched pathways, and the stench of rotting garbage and clogged sewers made me feel nauseous. Narrow alleys wound around an unplanned maze of houses, crammed together in close proximity. We made our way to a small wooden door at the back of an alleyway, and Penelope knocked once. Tristan stayed in the shadows, scouring the dark streets for any sign of trouble.
The door opened and a squat old lady in an old brown dress, scanty gray hair tied in a bun, stepped outside. “Yes,” she said, furrowing her brow. “What do you want?” Her tone was sharp.
Penelope removed her glamour, but only from her face, so that the old lady could see clearly who she was.
“Elsa, it’s me,” Penelope whispered. The old lady’s eyes grew wider, and she ushered us in immediately, glancing down the darkening street quickly and shutting the door.
Penelope clasped the old lady’s hand. “Is he here?”
Elsa nodded. “He came for the coronation.”
“I thought he would.”
“Who’s here?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
Penelope removed the veil of glamour from all of us. “Someone who can help us get into the castle.”
“And how are we going to manage that?” Tristan said. “Even with glamour, we need a reason to go into the castle. It is crawling with soldiers.”
“You will simply have to walk through the front door,” a deep male voice drawled from the doorway. “With my help, of course.”
The speaker stepped forward and removed his hood.
I already knew who it was, and my heartbeat sped up. “Rafe!”
Tristan moved closer to me.
Rafe leaned against the doorframe, his gray
