“I won’t be long, and then we can get out of here,” I tell her, wishing I’d asked the groom for her name.
I don’t feel so differently from the horse as I knock on the heavy wooden door.
A large, hairy creature opens it. He’s wearing beautifully wrought plate armor, blond fur sticking out from any gaps. He’s obviously a soldier, which used to mean he would treat me well, for Madoc’s sake, but now might mean just the opposite.
“I am Jude Duarte, seneschal to the High King,” I tell him. “Here on the crown’s business. Let me in.”
He steps aside, pulling the door open, and I enter the dim antechamber of the Tower of Forgetting. My mortal eyes adjust slowly and poorly to the lack of light. I do not have the faerie ability to see in near darkness. At least three other guards are there, but I
