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are two languages on your necklace. When I removed one, it left me with the other, glyphs, which are exactly the same symbols that are inscribed on Avalon’s walls.”

    “Can you translate them?”

    Damned if Cael’s necklace hadn’t turned out to be his Rosetta stone. “Now that I’ve separated the two languages, I can.”

    The team of scientists, drawn to the port by the excitement in Lucan and Cael’s voices, surrounded them and stared at the drawings Lucan had made. “What does it say?”

    “Tell us,” Quentin demanded.

    “Please do,” Shaw agreed.

    Rion slapped a desk, and, as usual, his action commanded everyone’s attention. “Settle down, people. Let the man think.”

    Lucan waited until the team quieted, then studied the runes. “Drinking from Avalon’s cup is a shield against death.”

    Holy hell.

    “You did it.” Cael’s eyes brightened.

    Rion shot him a thumbs-up. Quentin gave him a bear hug. Shaw embraced him. Other scientists clapped him on the back, their faces lit with enthusiasm.

    “Look!” Rion’s shout echoed through the lab. “The shield’s morphing.”

    Lucan turned to see. The shimmering sparkles vanished. The shield was down.

    Gone.

    Cheers again broke out around the lab, and Cael’s eyes teared with happiness.

    “What about the nearby buildings?” Shaw asked. “Any sign of a cave-in?”

    One of the geologists checked his instruments. “The topography’s stable.”

    The team breathed a collective sigh of relief. The shield was down. And the city was safe.

The Priestess of Avalon is from another realm where the sun shines differently. But the magic of Avalon never changes.

    —T HE L ADY OF THE L AKE

3

    C ael stared hard at Avalon, searching for a remnant of one tiny sparkle, but the shield had truly disappeared. As Avalon’s High Priestess, she could not show uncertainty or dread. Or fear. Straining under the burden of her position, she called on inner strength to appear serene and joyous. And, indeed, a part of her was full of joy and hope.

    If the Holy Grail was inside, as the glyphs Lucan had translated certainly implied, it could cure thousands of her people, including her neH2phew, whose condition was worsening by the day. Just yesterday she’d spoken to Jaylon, and he’d sounded so weak. He’d made her promise to visit soon and to bring the Grail. She prayed to the Goddess that she could keep both promises.

    Outside the window, Avalon dominated the view, a dark, massive stone building of mystery. The momentous occasion had upset her equilibrium and had her mind whirling, her nerves rattled. For so long she’d yearned for the healing powers of the Grail. So why were her feet rooted to the floor, reluctant to move? She should have been elated.

    Maybe it was natural to worry. As long as Avalon’s shield had stood, Cael could hope that someday they might find a way inside. Someday they might find the Grail.

    Someday had turned into today.

    And now she feared Avalon would be empty, that the Grail would not be inside, that finding the holy cup would prove as impossible as taming the wind, and her dreams would end. Then she’d have to go to back to the city of Feridon, where Jaylon was dying, and tell her nephew she’d failed. That not only couldn’t her healing skills cure him, but that she hadn’t found the Grail. Then he’d live out his last few weeks without hope.

    She stroked the sacred choker she wore to conceal the dark purple scales that twined around her neck. At her touch, those marks, the ultimate symbol of what she was, fluttered as if asking for release.

    Not now.

    The seemingly magical disintegration of the shield had the team buzzing, consulting their instruments and speaking quietly among themselves. From across the room, Cael could see that Lucan looked baffled, mystified, excited.

    He was an intriguing mix of intellect and physicality, a man who could argue his point as well as fight for it. A fitting helpmate for a