Gwen D’Morte and the Stolen Sword (The Avalon Institute Book 1)

by Eve Stone

  The acrid smell of death permeated the room. The dead Knights lay at my feet. I had

  dreamed this scene before but the movement at the door was different. The tall cloaked figure—much like the cloaks from tonight—had Excalibur and was making his or her way out of the room. Instead of staying and continuing to watch the scene I had already witnessed numerous times unfold, I willed my dream state to follow the sword.

  The figure ahead was moving fast, the long black robe dragging on the ground. Without

  thinking I called out to the person. “Wait!”

  The person didn’t stop, and thankfully so, as they just murdered three Knights. I wouldn’t

  stand a chance. I decided to study the figure. He or she was short, no taller than five foot five. A black gloved hand carried Excalibur at its side. A delicate gloved hand from this vantage point. Interesting. Could the murderer be a female?

  I continued to follow the person down another hall until it came upon a door that flew

  open. Just beyond the entrance, a circle of women clad in plain black dresses held hands, chanting into the wind.

  Witches.

  A gasp left my throat and the cloaked figure turned in my direction. A scream ripped

  through me.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Gwen, wake up,” a voice sounding like it’s screaming down a tunnel repeats over and over. Another scream tears through me, and I bolt upright. A pair of hands grabs my shoulders, holding me in place.

  “Gwen, baby, you’ve got to stop screaming.”

  I swing my gaze to Tristan’s face, sweat pouring down my forehead. I wipe it away, trying to get my bearings.

  “Are you okay?” he asks with a note of fear.

  “I-I…I had another bad dream.”

  His brow furrows. “You’ve been having bad dreams lately?”

  “More frequently than not, but it’s always the same one,” I explain.

  “Tell me about it,” he demands.

  For the next half hour, I fill Tristan in on my reoccurring nightmare with the dead Knights.

  “This one was a little different, though,” I say. “I convinced my dream self to follow the killer.”

  “You what?” he barks. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?

  I frown. “It was a dream, Tristan.”

  He shakes his head, grinning wide.

  “That was no dream, Babe. You were dream walking.”

  “What the hell is dream walking?”

  “It’s a form of reverse sight with a bit of summoning. It’s the rarest of abilities.”

  I bark out a laugh and his eyes go wide at my maniacal state.

  “That’s ridiculous. I’ve already told you, I don’t have my abilities.”

  “You’ve had them all along,” he argues. “You just didn’t know it.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. He truly believes the things he’s saying. It’s insane. “Gwen, listen to me. That wasn’t a dream it was your ability.”

  I shake my head violently. “No. No. They’re just dreams. I’ve just been so out of sorts with the trial and with the news of the knights. It makes sense that I dreamed about it.”

  I repeat all of the excuses I’ve made up in my own head over the past week. He shakes his slowly. “Not a chance,” he says. “I always knew you were going to be incredibly special. God, do you have any idea how big this is?” he asks, awestruck.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” I snap, suddenly wondering if he might be right. “What if I’m remembering details incorrectly? We can’t just go off telling people about my dream and having them chase some cloaked figure around.”

  “Tell me about the witches,” he presses, not even entertaining what I just said.

  “How is that even possible?”

  “It’s not, it was a dream. Or if it was dream walking, I’m obviously remembering things wrong,” I say, lacking conviction.

  I remember every part in great detail. There has always been something off about these dreams. Something too real. I’m not for sure I agree with him about my abilities finally coming in, but I’m not sure that they weren’t, either. I just want to close my eyes for a couple of more hours and try to regain some strength. Today has already been too much.

  “Let’s say that I believe what you’re saying. Even though it’s crazy,” I take a breath. “I can’t even think about it tonight. Can we discuss this more after I get a couple more hours of sleep?”

  “You’re right. You need rest.”

  I go to stand, but he pulls me back down. “Where are you going?”

  “I better get out of here before everyone is awake and someone sees me leaving. The sun’s coming up.”

  “Would it really be that bad to be caught with me? Do you really care that much about what other people say?” he says, sounding hurt.

  “This isn’t about being embarrassed to be seen with you, Tristan. I’m not attached to anyone and clearly, Lance has no room to be angry, but I don’t need rumors circulating.”

  “Lance,” he huffs. “This is about him then?”

  “No. It’s a small school and I don’t need rumors circulating that I’m having your baby.”

  He lifts a brow. “A baby?”

  “Yes. A baby,” I laugh at his reaction.

  “I guess neither one of us are ready for that,” he says, chuckling. I laugh too. The whole conversation is ridiculous.

  He pulls me into his chest so we are practically nose to nose. “But I wouldn’t mind practicing,” he huskily.

  His lips meet mine and a moan escapes me. The combination of his words and his kiss make it impossible not to. I’m lost to him until I feel his palms move to my ass.

  Pushing him back gently, I say, “it’s not a good idea.”

  “Why?” he asks, sounding dazed.

  This is a conversation I’m not prepared to have. My virginal status is not something I’m willing to discuss, but looking at him, I want to explain. I want to erase the hurt that I see on his gorgeous face.

  “I’ve never…” My eyes lower and my cheeks heat.

  He lifts my chin so our eyes met. “You never what, Gwen?

  “I’ve never gone this far with anyone.”

  He smiles, raising my hackles. I try to stand again, and he stops me.

  “I’m not laughing at you, Baby. I’m smiling because it makes me happy.”

  His term of endearment washes over me, sending shivers of pleasure down my back. “Thinking about you with another guy makes me murderous,” he admits, causing me to grin this time. “You like making me crazy?”

  I nod. Seeing his jealousy is a major turn on.

  “Come here,” he says, pulling me onto his lap. “I’m not asking for sex. I just want more time with you.”

  His words begin to unravel my will power. The truth of the matter is, I miss him. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve always wanted this with him. I’m not ready for sex. God knows I’m not ready for that, but I want more time with him, too.

  With my emotions running high, I want his skin on mine. Without another word, I lift my shirt over my head. His eyes widen, smoldering with want.

  “God you’re beautiful,” he whispers, taking in my black lace bra and ample breasts.

  “This is what I’ve been missing?”

  I don’t want to think on his words. The memory of him leaving those years ago would ruin the moment. Instead, I grab his shirt, pulling him to me. Our lips seal together in a passionate kiss. His hands roam every curve of my body and I don’t dare stop him this time.

  His hand moves painfully slow at my side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. When he cups my breast, a moan rips through my chest. He pulls the black lace away, revealing a hard nipple. When he pulls his lips from mine, I almost protest, until I feel the warm, wet sensation of his mouth around my peak. My head falls backwards in ecstasy as he nips and toys with my breast.

  My hands go to his hair, gripping firmly at the scalp, his own pleasure eviden
t. We aren’t being quiet. Anyone walking by the door is sure to know exactly what is going on. Although this is college, we still can be in trouble. Females aren’t permitted in males’ rooms and vice versa, but I don’t give a fuck about that. At this point, nothing matters but his hands on me, his teeth biting tenderly at my flesh. I want more. I want all of him, and I don’t know if I can stop myself if he takes me.

  He stops abruptly, as though he read my mind. Breathing heavily, he doesn’t say anything. He sits there, ragged breaths coming from his lips.

  “Tristan?”

  “If we don’t stop now,” he says, “I’m gonna take this too far. I want to do this right. You deserve that.”

  He brings his lips back to mine and we enjoy the next several minutes tasting each other’s smiles. His forehead rests against mine and he groans through clenched teeth.

  “This is harder than I ever thought it would be. I want to rip every last bit of your clothes off and bury myself so deep inside of you.”

  I gasp at his salacious words. I want everything he’s offering and I know that if I don’t get off this bed, I’m going to beg him.

  Placing one last chaste kiss to his lips, I rise, looking for my clothing. He stays seated on the bed, not daring to come near me. He watches as I slide my shirt back over my head. A grin makes his beautiful dimples pop.

  “You truly are gorgeous.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” I say before biting down on my lip.

  He groans, “Get out of here before I drag you back to my bed.” He pulls me into a hug and I breathe in his masculine scent. “I’ll find you later,” he says into my neck, placing a kiss where his nose has just then.

  “What are you going to do now?” I ask.

  He grunts, “Take a really cold shower.”

  I chuckle. “Good luck with that.”

  I leave Tristan’s room without anyone seeing me. While he’s busy, I know it was my time to deliver the book. I stop in my tracks when I realize I’ve left it in Tristin’s room.

  Oh god what did I do? Surely, he’s found it by now. Would this count as going against my agreement? Panic seizes me. Quickly going back to Tristan’s room, I knock. He answers after a few seconds.

  I smile. “I left something in here.”

  He produces the book in front of me. “I’m assuming this is what you’re looking for.”

  I nod. Dread overcomes me now that I know he knows what I’ve recovered from the library.

  “I would never say a thing, Gwen. You’ve got to trust me.”

  “I do but—”

  His words cut me off. “I don’t know what methods they’re using to watch this. For all I know they could be using Sight, but I doubt it. It’s such a rare gift. I think you’re fine, and like I said, I would never say a word. Take it. Hide it under your shirt and go turn it in now. Don’t tell me anything else about it and then technically you haven’t gone against your oath.”

  I nod. “Thank you, Tristan.” Going onto the balls of my feet, I place a kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you later.”

  He shuts the door as I turn and walk into the hallway. With every step I take, the more worried I become. I do trust Tristan. I know he wouldn’t say anything, but these are sorcerers we’re talking about. Surely, they’re watching us with methods of magic. There’s only one way to find out what my punishment would be, if any.

  I need to turn this book in, so that’s where I head.

  Chapter Twelve

  When I reach the auditorium, I’m shocked to find it filled with members of the council.

  A cold sweat breaks over my body as my mind overfills with the memory of last night. The cloaked figures last night had to have been the council.

  Fuck, my brain screams. It’s one thing to have the Chancellor and the Emperor watching over us, but to have the council is quite another. I’m likely doomed. They’d know what I’ve done. Shaking, I walk towards Chancellor Andrews.

  “Hello, Gwen,” he greets me cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”

  I nod my head towards the side, signaling that it’s a private matter. “I came to deliver something,” I say, being as vague as possible.

  His brow rises and a smile breaks out across his face. “Very good, D’Morte. You’re our first champion to complete the first trial.”

  I don’t smile. I’m waiting for the hammer to drop when he advises me that I’ve been caught red-handed stealing from the library. His brows furrow as if he can read my mind. Perhaps they don’t know, and I’m not going to be kicked out of the institution, lose my abilities, and be banished forever.

  “You’re to leave your findings in a locker that’s behind the auditorium stage. Locker one sixteen is meant for you.”

  “I don’t just give it to you?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I am not to know what you sought. That’s for the council only.”

  “What are they doing here?” I ask a little too boldly.

  It’s none of my business to know what the council is doing, and I know that instantly when Chancellor Andrews clears his throat. “That doesn’t concern you. They’re here on official business but will be leaving shortly.”

  “You’re right. I’m so sorry. I should’ve never asked.” My words rush out.

  He put his hand up to stop me. “It’s all right, Gwen. It’s never been a secret that you’re the curious sort,” he chuckles. “Now, run along and deposit your findings. Within your locker you should find your next trial.”

  “Thank you,” I say, running off towards the back of the auditorium without a second glance at the members of the council.

  I don’t even stop to see if my father is there. It wouldn’t be a warm reception anyway. Perhaps once he realizes I’m the first to complete my trial, he’ll warm to me, but it’s doubtful.

  I push the thoughts of my father to the side, determined to complete this first task. When I reach the back of the auditorium, the feeling of unease sweeps over me. Perhaps it’s because the place is eerily quiet and this was a covert mission of sorts, or maybe it’s the shadow book in my hands; either way, I’m creeped out. It feels like eyes are on me from some unknown vantage point.

  I come upon a row of lockers and quickly search for one sixteen. It’s a good thing I was told that I’m the first to finish, or else I’d be idiot enough to open the other lockers, just to get a peek at the other champion’s trials. Curiosity kills the cat and I am always the cat.

  Always.

  I open my locker to find another envelope. Removing it from the metal box, I put it into my back pocket while sliding the book of shadows in and closing the door. I have to stop myself from turning back around and retrieving it. Something within me does not want to part from that book. I don’t know why, and I don’t like it.

  Grimoires are always dangerous artifacts. Their magic calls to whomever had it in its possession. Anyone other than a skilled witch can be convinced to do awful things by the power of the grimoire. If I’m tasked to retrieve this particular book of shadows, it has to be one of the most powerful in existence. Stronger, braver men have fallen at the hands of such a book. It’s a good thing I’m turning it over to the council.

  I walk briskly back to my room, eager to read the contents of the next envelope. Taking my usual stance of sitting cross-legged on my bed, I open it. The first part of the note is simply a regurgitation of my first trial and congratulating me on it. The second part… is dreadful.

  Chancellor Andrews has a secret. We need you to uncover what this is by any means

  necessary. Do not get caught and do not discuss the content of this message with anyone other than champion Tristan Locke. Banishment will occur if this oath is broken.

  I have to spy on the Chancellor?

  What kind of trials are these? And why could I all of a sudden consult with anyone— especially Tristan? It doesn’t make sense. The questions keep adding up and the unease becomes almost unbearable.

  Regardless of the fact that there is
very little information about the trials, never have I read anywhere that manipulation and stealing are part of the process. I’d rather duel. If I fail, I lose, and if I get caught, I lose. I’m in a no-win situation here. I’ve never felt so stuck.

  More importantly, what could Chancellor Andrews be hiding that the council needs to uncover? With the death of the Knights, the trials being opened to every school, and the council’s involvement in these trials, it all has to have a connection…but what?

  I fall back onto my bed, feeling defeated. What could the council do if I drop out? I groan, knowing full well that’s not an option. How do I get myself into this? I’ve stayed relatively out of sight for years, so why do I have to be a champion? I have known the Chancellor for years. He has been appointed to Avalon Institute by the council. He’s held in high regard as far as my dad has always made it seem. What has happened?

  I remember the chancellor and emperor’s words about wanting more competition in the trials and Thomas not being the right one. Could he have messed up and the council not know it? They said there were to be other champions added to the mix, and we were supposed to find out who they were, but we haven’t. Why hasn’t that happened, and who are they? Could Chancellor Andrews have kept his error from the council?

  I sit up quickly, an idea taking shape. This would be a perfect opportunity with a semi-valid excuse to poke around Chancellor Andrews’ office. If I’m caught before entering, I can simply say I’m coming to ask him about the other competitors. With the council here, he’s preoccupied. Now is the best time to do it.

  I leap to my feet, quickly changing into clean clothes. Slamming the door behind me, I take off jogging down the hallway, not caring about all the eyes that are currently on me. I run down the wide sweeping lobby steps and halt as the Chancellor, followed by numerous council members approached, heads towards the front door.

  I want to scream at my horrific timing. The setup has been perfect, but I’ve lost my opportunity, as clearly, he is escorting the members out.