“What if it doesn’t?” I whispered. “What if something goes wrong tomorrow in the castle?”
“Don’t worry so much. Have faith in yourself.” She put her hand on my arm. “I have faith in you. Your spirit magic needs time to recover. Once it does, all your powers will return to normal.”
I looked over at Tristan, who sat in the corner looking alert. “Doesn’t he ever need to sleep?” I asked Penelope softly.
“I can still hear you,” Tristan muttered.
“The High Fae don’t need much sleep,” said Penelope in a low voice. “Immortals rarely do.”
“Then why do I get so tired?”
Penelope smiled through the flickering light of the candle and lay back down on her cot. “You are not immortal yet, my dear,” she said gently. “Your immortality will only set in sometime in your twenties, when you are at your prime. That is why you must be extra careful until then. You are not invincible, and you can be killed. Best keep that in mind tomorrow when you go to the castle.”
The Castle Dungeons
As dawn rose over Caeleron Castle, we made our way through the deserted alleyways of the town toward the gates. I glamoured myself and Tristan, changing our features and hair to suit the disguise. Penelope was right—my magic had returned after a good night’s sleep and was stronger than ever.
Caeleron town was different in the sunlight. Lemon-colored stone houses with thatched roofs were joined together by vaulted stone archways that spanned the tiny cobbled streets. We passed a few small artisan shops which were still shut, but blacksmiths were already at their anvils banging away. Some bakeries were open and had fresh bread cooling on their windowsills. Penelope got us a few hot bread rolls as we followed her to the northern gate of the city toward the massive fortress perched on top, like a colossus surveying its kingdom.
Danica was waiting for us outside the castle gates. The guards were inspecting credentials, and in the meantime I checked that we were sufficiently glamoured. Rafe had produced some false papers, and the guards, after speaking with Danica, raised the portcullis to let us through the main gatehouse. The massive vaulted entrance, which served as the only way into Caeleron Castle, was decorated with intricate carvings. It was fortified by two towers filled with a whole garrison of archers. I took note of all their positions.
The entryway was like a tunnel. The walls must have been over twenty feet thick. According to Penelope, Caeleron Castle could hold over forty thousand warriors and had survived countless sieges. The portcullis itself was massive and would need at least two people to raise it. This was in no way going to be easy, that was for sure.
Once I was inside the massive castle, I could only stop and stare. I had been in fortresses before, but I had never imagined anything of Caeleron Castle’s sheer enormity and scale.
As Danica led us through the outer bailey, a gigantic courtyard within the main curtain wall of the castle, black-clad soldiers roamed the battlements and barracks. Tents and market stalls were set up near the stables to service the growing number of guests that would be visiting for the coronation. I looked around—there didn’t seem to be any Drakaar here, just ordinary soldiers and warrior-mages. If we were lucky, we could get in and out without causing too much damage. I could not take the chance of calling in Abraxas; burning down Rafe’s ancestral home was not part of the plan. And as Abraxas had explained, summoning him drained a lot of magic from this world. He was only to be called when we had no other choice. We would have to do this alone.
We came to another walled gate within the main castle, and a pot-bellied man with a pockmarked face and short white hair was waiting for us with the guards. Danica spoke to him for a second, and he ushered us through the second gate into the inner bailey of the massive castle.
Within the inner walls stood a magnificent palace. Enormous towers spiked through the morning sky, and massive latticed windows lined the newer structures of the east and west wings. We traversed shaded walkways surrounded by beautiful landscaped gardens with fountains of exquisitely carved statues spraying water into ponds in graceful arcs. Snowy lilies and rose-tinted peonies, fragrant and delicate, provided bursts of vibrant color in the midst of the bright green lawns. Charmingly dressed noblewomen in swirling silk day dresses with crisp taffeta skirts, draped in velvet capes and cloaks and dripping with rows of pearls and sparkling gemstones, strolled along the garden paths on the arm of many a well-dressed gentleman. They had all come in from different parts of the kingdom for the coronation.
It was disturbing to see the nobility of this kingdom behaving as if it was Brandon Delacourt’s right to take the throne from his king. I knew they were all scared of the archmage, mainly because of Morgana’s backing and the presence of the Dark Queen by his side, but they didn’t have to act like everything was as it should be.
Disgusted with the fickle nobles, I followed the little man through the opulent gardens to the kitchen gardens, which were growing every vegetable and herb I could think of. I had read about this castle in my books at the academy. Dorian the Great built this palace within the fortress as a royal residence. Then, a few hundred years later, it was Dorian the Second who went on to rebuild the palace, expanding on it and hiring artisans from Brandor to create an even grander set of buildings.
“Come on, come on. I don’t have all day.” The little potbellied man led us to the side entrance of the main palace, and we entered the kitchens. Immediately a heady concoction of delicious
