The Rise of the Dawnstar (The Avalonia Chronicles Book 2)

cloaked figures who hurried through the streets, eager to get out of the chill—a biting wind had started blowing in from the north. I tried to maneuver my horse closer to Rafe’s, but I could barely see a few feet ahead of me through the thick fog.
“What if we are recognized by someone?” I clutched the reins with one hand and pulled my cloak tighter around me. “Isn’t it too risky?”
“Keep your hood on,” said Rafe. “This is the only way to get the information we need. Once we have it, we will leave this town before anyone notices us.”
“Are we meeting someone here?”
Rafe nodded. “Marcus Gold. I’ve known him since I was a boy. He may be a shady character, but he’s safe and avoids the authorities even better than we do. In any case, he’s the only one I know who can give us information about the Dagger. We need some sort of plan if we are going to steal it from Morgana. The more we know about it the better.” He spurred his horse forward. “Follow me.”
We stopped in front of a tavern that desperately needed a fresh coat of paint and didn’t look quite as inviting as the Dancing Daisy Inn, where we had stayed when we were passing through the town of Greystone on our way to the Academy of Magic at Evolon. Still, I hoped I would finally get a real bed to sleep in that night.
Groaning, I maneuvered myself off the horse, and Rafe came over to help me down. I was exhausted and my thighs were chafed and aching from riding for what seemed like months.
“Go on.” Kalen took the reins from me. “I’ll water the horses and meet you inside.”
I smiled at him gratefully, handed him the reins, and followed Rafe into the inn.
The main hall of the tavern was full of rowdy men and women who looked and smelled like they hadn’t had a bath for days. Some played dice at the tables, their eyes intent and their pockets getting emptier by the minute. Others drowned their sorrows drinking at the bar. All the tables were packed with people chatting around frothy mugs of ale and eating the sumptuous tavern fare.
No one paid us any attention, but I still fiddled with the hood of my cloak, making sure my features were covered. The innkeeper passed by me with a huge wooden tray; the delicious smell of freshly baked bread reminded me I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days and I was absolutely starving.
Rafe moved toward the far end of the room, where a man was sitting at a table in the corner, his hood over his head. He spotted Rafe almost immediately and waved us over.
Rafe sat down on the bench and introduced me to the small, thin man before me. “Marcus, I presume I don’t need to tell you who she is?”
Marcus shook his head and pulled back his hood. His skin was a warm dusky color and he had a thin mustache over a small goatee, which in my opinion, made him look a bit like a musketeer.
“It is a great honor to meet you,” Marcus said, his voice low but clear. His eyes were shrewd and bright, and they twinkled as he glanced at my amulet, which I hadn’t realized was showing.
I smiled at him and tucked it back into my tunic. I had to be more careful; the Amulet of Auraken was the one thing that identified me without a doubt.
“I hope you don’t mind, I ordered some food while I was waiting,” Marcus said when the innkeeper brought three steaming wooden bowls of stew to our table, accompanied by a basket of hot bread and a golden-crusted meat pie for us to share.
“Thank you, Marcus.” Rafe picked up the knife and started cutting up the pie. “Go on, Aurora, you must be famished. I know I am.”
“I believe you have an interest in procuring what we Brandorians refer to as the Dark Dagger.” Marcus leaned forward, getting straight to the point while Rafe and I ate.
I nodded with my mouth full.
“We think Morgana has it, but we need to know more about how it works and if the curse can be broken,” Rafe elaborated.
Marcus seemed to find this amusing and smiled to himself before he answered. “You plan to break the demon curse on the Dagger of Dragath?”
Rafe did not seem amused in the slightest. “That is why we are here, Marcus. Now, is there a way or isn’t there?”
“There might be.” Marcus rested his elbows on the table and propped his chin on his hands, fiddling with his wispy beard.
I stopped eating. “And?”
“I have no idea what it is. There is only one person who might know how it can be done.”
My face fell. This supposed expert didn’t know how to deal with the Dagger of Dragath. “Who?”
“Constantine Redgrave,” Marcus replied.
Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “But Constantine Redgrave is dead.”
“That’s what everyone thinks,” Marcus retorted, fiddling with his beard again. “I have seen him with my own eyes. Constantine Redgrave is still alive and living in exile in Brandor.”
I tried to remember my history lessons. “I read about him at the Academy of Evolon. He was archmage during my grandfather’s rule, wasn’t he?”
“Yes!” replied Rafe. “He was your grandfather’s right-hand man, and loyal to your father. If he is still alive he will definitely help us. He is the foremost authority on Dragath and demons. If anyone knows how to break the curse on the Dagger, it’s him. He was supposed to have died on the same day as your father, the day Morgana took over the throne of Illiador. He must have escaped the massacre at the Star Palace.”
Marcus nodded. “Redgrave knows the Star Palace at Nerenor like the back of his hand and must have discovered a secret way out. If you intend to break into Morgana’s palace and steal the Dagger, you are going to need his help. I have heard