Page 11

CHAPTER TEN

W alking back into the darkness, Carys could hear the wisps screeching in high, panicked voices.

“What the hell happened?”

Was Laura okay? What about Duncan?

“The moment you took the Crow Mother through the gate and her magic waned, the dragon could sense you.” Dru cocked his head. “From the sound of it, he is expressing his displeasure at your absence.”

They rushed through the twists and turns of the Night Bridge passage to emerge in the narrow, dark alley where a pile of broken crates smoldered into ash.

“Cadell?” Carys reached out in her mind. Cadell!

Nêrys? Cadell’s mental call was more of a bellow. Where are you?

“Come on!” Dru shouted. “Between your dragon and Dafydd’s, they’re about to start a war.”

I am fine! Calm down!

There was a roaring sound in her head but nothing intelligible.

The moment they stepped onto the main road that led toward the river and under the bridge, Carys saw what Dru was talking about.

The troll market was in chaos.

Market stalls were overturned, and in the distance, Carys saw two dragons perched on the stone archway of the bridge, roaring into the foggy night as smoke billowed around them and tents and ramshackle buildings burned.

Cadell, calm down. I am fine. The Crow Mother ambushed me at the banquet, but Dru went with me to fulfill my bargain and now I’m back.

Where are you?

I am with Dru.

Stay with the fae until I can find you.

She didn’t know how he’d find her in the confusion and chaos of the burning troll market.

Furtive creatures lurking in the shadows had emerged, and what had previously passed for some kind of order had burned to the bone.

“Come on!” Dru grabbed Carys’s wrist in his right hand and dragged her through the chaos. He had a silver saber in his left hand, and as they walked, he brandished it at more than one hulking monster that emerged.

Anything that could fly was already gone, and the air was still and dark save for the flicker of dragon fire. The lane was covered with smoldering canvas tents, aluminum pop-ups from the Brightlands, and a collection of old patio umbrellas.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll take you to the dragon.” Dru looked up at the tall buildings on either side of the market. “He won’t be able to fly through here.”

Some trolls were swiftly packing their wares, trying to avoid notice and get away, while others seemed to have taken the dragon’s violence as permission to wreak their own kind of havoc. There were thieves scurrying about, shoving whatever they could find into sacks or stuffing things down their shirts.

Humans and magical creatures bound in chains had wrapped those bonds around the necks of their captors or were actively fighting against those who had captured them.

Carys saw a dark-haired woman stab a rocky-skinned troll in the belly. The troll bellowed and fell back, gripping its stomach where the rough blade was buried. The body twitched and spasmed, and the woman bent down, yanking at the chain that bound her ankle to the troll’s.

The old bronze wouldn’t give way. Angry tears streamed down her dirty cheeks, and she screamed in frustration.

“Dru!” Carys pulled on his arm, pointing to the crying woman.

The tall fae paused, scowling as he looked between the woman and Carys.

“We have to help her.” What would happen to her if her troll captor survived?

And what if he didn’t?

Dru dragged Carys to the flaming market stall, then rolled the limp body of the troll over before he brought his silver sword down across the troll’s ankle.

There was a sick thunk, a red spurt of blood, and the knobby foot detached while the body remained still.

“Come on.” Dru pulled Carys away from the woman, who slipped her chain from the bloodied stump, hiked up her skirts, and ran.

“Can she be punished?”

“Not by human authorities.” Dru dodged a low-flying group of pixies that swooped down the center of the lane. “Slavery like that is illegal.”

Carys looked around the market and noted all the humans and magical creatures in chains. “Doesn’t seem too secret though.”

“There are more illicit activities happening tonight because of the coronation.” Dru used the pommel of his sword to bash in the face of a gnarled creature who limped toward them with murder in his eyes. “The Kingsguard is occupied closer to the palace. Stay close to me.”

Nêrys, where are you?

Dru is taking me to the bridge. Stay where you are; I can see you from here.

Dru’s grip on her wrist never wavered, not even when a scream came from behind them.

Carys spun around just in time.

A scale-cheeked troll barreled toward them with a raised axe. “Ya weaselly, murderin’ fae bastard!”

“Dru!”

Carys yanked her arm away and Dru released her, bringing his hand up, his palm glowing with flashing blue light as the troll attacked.

Dru’s silver blade clashed against the axe, and a glinting magic pulse slammed against the troll, punching him back, but not before the edge of his axe sliced across Dru’s jaw.

“No!” Carys was still in a ball gown and had no weapons on her, but she reached for the shorter silver blade she saw at Dru’s waist, yanking it from its scabbard as Dru fell.

“Carys!” Someone in the distance bellowed her name.

It sounded like Duncan or Lachlan, she couldn’t tell which.

She jumped on the troll, who had fallen to the ground with the force of Dru’s magic, and didn’t hesitate to plunge the dagger into his shoulder. The blade found purchase, and blood sprayed across her cheek. The troll bellowed and threw his burly arms around her, trying to crush her on his chest, but two hands gripped her ankles and dragged her from its grip.

She scrambled to her feet and ripped off a piece of her gown, running on adrenaline as she pressed the dirty cloth to Dru’s bleeding jaw and shoulder.

“I’m fine!” He grabbed at the rumpled lace.

“You’re hurt!”

“Leave me and run to Cadell!” Silver blood soaked his jaw and neck. “Carys, you have no weapons. Run!”

The chaos was growing, and she heard trumpets in the distance.

The Kingsguard?

Carys scrambled up the cobblestone-covered slope that led to the bridge, keeping her eyes on Cadell, massive and bellowing fire from his ruby-red throat.

Nêrys .

The moment he saw her, he spread his wings and lifted into the sky.

“I’m here!” She held out her arms, and Cadell swooped down and grabbed her in his massive claws.

Nêrys. His voice was like a sigh once she was back in his grasp. Belen’s protection was on you.

Cadell took to the sky, Dafydd’s dragon Mared at his left wing, when Carys shouted into his mind.

You have to grab Dru! He was injured protecting me.

Cadell flew high, turning in circles over the river, likely communicating with Mared.

The fae has earned a favor for protecting you, he finally said. I can see him near the bridge.

Cadell turned in the sky and arrowed back toward the troll market, roaring with a mighty bellow before he dipped down, hovering over the wreckage of the market as he enclosed Dru in the talons of his right foot, lifted away from the smoking stalls, and flew into the air.

Carys rested in Cadell’s claws, looking to the right to see Dru similarly gripped.

Dragon claws were not the most comfortable perch for riding through the air, but Dru’s eyes were closed, and she saw his face peaceful in the red glow of Cadell’s body. He leaned back, his long legs dangling from the cage of dragon claws.

Carys reached up, running a hand along Cadell’s iridescent skin. Beneath her hand, the fire glowed from his belly, warming her and setting her mind at ease.

In Cadell’s claws, she was safe.

The cross human and the prince were at the market. Her dragon spoke in her mind. The Kingsguard had just arrived moments before you found me.

A flood of dread in her belly. Are they safe? Do we need to go back?

They were in the company of the Kingsguard, mounted with weapons and archers at their back. I would not worry about your suitors, Nêrys.

Carys tried not to worry, but it was impossible. She was also worried about Dru, who was still as the dead as he rode in Cadell’s claws. Dru is injured.

I smell his blood. He will need healing.

Can you heal him?

Cadell let out a great huff of air. My magic will not be effective on him. He’s an old creature; he needs healing from his own kind.

Carys was wondering where she might find a fae healer when she felt Cadell start to descend.

She turned to look at Dru, whose eyes were open and watching her. “You need a fae healer,” she shouted. “Where do you want to go?”

He shook his head, but Carys could see the wound on his jaw was still weeping.

“Was that troll axe poisoned?”

“Probably.” He closed his eyes. “They like poison.”

“Don’t be noble.” She pointed at Cadell’s claws. “You’re bleeding on my dragon.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He put a hand on Cadell’s foot. “I appreciate the quick escape, but I’ll be quite well with some sleep.”

There was no moon and no stars in the Shadowlands, and the fog was thick and endless until they broke through the clouds and Carys saw the light of a bonfire in Dafydd’s courtyard.

Your uncle is waiting.

“Do you think they noticed that I disappeared from the banquet?”

“Yes.” Dru’s eyes were still closed. “Ballroom politics. You’ll have to answer for your absence.”

“And the destruction of the troll market?”

Dru seemed to shrug. “Harold should thank you for that.”

Cadell circled slowly, Mared right behind him. Moments later, Carys and Dru were gently placed in the middle of the castle yard, and Cadell transformed soon after, followed by Mared, who immediately walked to Dafydd’s side.

“In Modron’s name, I am relieved that you are safe.” Dafydd walked to Carys and embraced her. “I was about to send Anwyn and Dylan to search for you.”

Her Shadowlands cousins stood back, their shoulders back and arms at attention, still dressed in their banquet finery.

Carys, on the other hand, had a ripped dress covered in troll and fae blood, scorched at the edges and with mud at the hem six inches deep.

Anwyn and Dylan looked super excited as they looked down their noses at her.

Hoping the trolls might finish me off? Carys didn’t think her cousins would’ve been all that disappointed if she’d met an untimely end.

“Right.” She stood up straight. “So the Crow Mother kind of trapped me at the banquet. I had to go with her to pay back a favor.” She tried to smooth her dress over her legs. “But things got a little… fiery.”

Anwyn glanced at Dru. “You consort with fae?”

Everything about the woman irked Carys. “Oh, I don’t consort with them,” she said. “But I do help them chop off troll legs when the occasion calls for it.” She walked over to Dru and knelt at his side.

The fae man, for his part, was still on the ground, staring into the fire as silver bled from his jaw. He seemed not to notice that he was in the presence of the Cymric king and a cadre of nêr ddraig or surrounded by dragons.

“Dru?”

He was whispering into the flames in some strange tongue, and Carys didn’t know if he needed help or simply—as he claimed before—to be left alone to heal.

“Dru.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “What do you need?”

He rolled over, placed his lips to the earth, and whispered, “Dewch ataf fi.”

Come to me?

Carys recognized the Cymric phrase. Who was Dru calling?

Carys heard horses in the distance, and it sounded like a company of soldiers was riding toward them. From the forest, wolves bayed, and the flames in the bonfire leaped to the sky.

Lachlan and a group of Alban soldiers dressed in blue-and-white uniforms rode into Dafydd’s courtyard and circled the fire, and Duncan rode with them. The blacksmith wore a black coat, his formal kilt, and a stormy scowl.

“Carys!” Duncan bellowed across the yard. “Where the hell have you been?”

“We were worried.” Lachlan was about to dismount, but then he looked at the ground. “What is that?”

Carys was kneeling next to Dru when she felt it. There was a hum in the ground beneath her, and though Duncan dismounted and ran to her, she couldn’t take her eyes from the earth.

“Carys!” Duncan threw his arms around her and pulled her away from Dru. “Earth magic. He’s calling for earth magic. Stay back.”

The land seemed to breathe up and out, and silver threads that looked like roots emerged from the soil, glowing and rising, rising, rising under Carys’s hands.

Every human in the courtyard stopped and stared as the ground beneath them sighed like a tired mother.

“Carys?” Lachlan called her name. “Are you?—”

“It’s not me.” She looked at the wounded fae. “I think it’s Dru.”

The soldiers stayed on their horses, who skittered back from the fire.

Dafydd, Anwyn, and Dylan froze.

Carys stayed in Duncan’s arms, both of them kneeling next to Dru, who stared in the direction of the dark woods in the distance.

There was a light coming toward them, as small as a wisp that seemed to grow.

And grow.

The wolves in the woods went silent as a figure walked out of the darkness and toward the fire.

Duncan growled, “Dru, what have you called?”

“Easy, my friend.” The fae’s eyes were glowing and content.

She was small, as petite as Dru was tall. Her skin was the color of polished oak, her eyes a brilliant blue. Her dark, curly locks were threaded with braids, and her delicate pointed ears were pierced with a line of intricately woven gold hoops.

Anwyn gasped. “Ellyllon.”

The small fae stared at Dru with a flood of tangled emotion filling her eyes. “You return to this place but call to me only now, when you have need of my healing?”

Dru closed his eyes. “Naida?—”

“I do not need your excuses, Diarmuid.”

He lifted his hand, palm up, silver fae blood staining his graceful fingers. “I am your servant.”

“You are no one’s servant,” Naida whispered, “least of all mine.”

Dru closed his eyes. “My love?—”

“Stop talking.” She walked over, sparing only a glance at Carys and Duncan before she knelt next to Dru. “Carys Morgan, do I owe you a favor for saving him?”

She shook her head. “I was only doing what I could. He saved me from the violence at the market tonight.”

“Did he now?” Naida’s eyebrows went up as she took off a cloak made of silver-grey fabric and embroidered with flowers, then threw it over Dru. “A selfless act? Don’t make me question your identity.”

Despite her harsh words, Naida’s hands were gentle, and Dru stared at her like she was the sun, the moon, and the stars wrapped in one.

A smile curved the corners of his mouth. “You are more beautiful than ever.”

“And you’ve lost blood.” She glanced around the fire. “We’ll be back when he’s healed.”

“Back?”

The silver threads that covered the ground glowed and pulsed with magic, and Duncan grabbed Carys and scrambled away from Dru as the ground beneath them heaved again, like a giant beast taking a breath.

Naida’s cloak seemed to grow, covering both her and Dru under its silver span, the threads of the cloak reaching down to twine with the glowing threads reaching up from the heaving earth.

The ellyllon put her hands into the dirt, whispered something, and the ground opened up and swallowed them both, leaving a massive fairy mound in the middle of Dafydd’s courtyard.