Page 12

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T he world around Carys swam in shades of grey and red. The red of the fire at the market. The black and grey of the fog-dampened cobblestones. The heated red of troll blood spraying across her face. The silver of magical roots growing out of the ground.

“Carys.” A soft whisper in her ear, and strong arms held her.

It was Duncan. She recognized the smell of metal and fire with an earthy undertone. He smelled of the forge and fresh soap.

Her back rested against his broad chest, and his arms wrapped around her. Their legs were tangled together, and Carys had the vague memory of changing into a nightgown by the fire and pulling him into bed beside her. She hadn’t wanted to be alone.

“Carys.”

“Shhh.” She kept her eyes closed. The bed was warm, and the covers over them were heavy. Resting in Duncan’s arms felt like being encased in a weighted blanket with the added benefit of smelling his soap.

“What kind of soap do you use?” she murmured.

“My soap?” There was a laugh in his voice.

“Aye.” She mimicked his accent. “Your soap.”

He pulled her closer and sighed. “Hmm. Mary makes it from goat milk, I think. She uses whatever kitchen herbs are in season. This batch was made in the summer. I think it has rosemary.”

“Can I get some?”

“Yes.” His teeth nipped her ear. “But you have to come to Murrayshall House.”

“That’s fair.” She turned a little and looked over her shoulder. “Did you sleep with me all night?”

His green eyes shone. “Aye, I did. I tried to leave, and you seemed put out. Pulled me right into bed and then fell asleep in minutes.”

“Well…” She snuggled back into his chest. “You’re very comfortable.”

“I’m glad you slept well.” He inched back. “You needed it.”

Carys wiggled closer.

Duncan scooted away.

She glanced over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Duncan raised an eyebrow. “Ah, lass, it’s morning and you’re not the only one who woke up.”

“Not the only…” Oh. As she cuddled closer, she felt what he was talking about. “Ah. I understand.”

“You don’t seem to be moving away.” Duncan didn’t move either.

“Neither are you.” Carys pressed her lips together and tried to contain her smile. As she’d expected, Duncan was as well-endowed as Lachlan, but his body had a mass and weight to it that made everything about him new and intriguing. His arms were different. His chest was more muscled.

She scooted back and wiggled a little.

“Hmm.” Duncan’s morning voice was a delightfully smooth rumble that made her ears purr. “Carys Morgan, you’ll be the death of me.”

She pulled his arms around her shoulders. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Duncan chuckled low in his throat. “Be a menace then.”

Her mind flashed back to the night before. “You were yelling at me.”

“You scared me witless. You disappeared from the banquet, and not even Cadell knew where you were. What the hell happened?”

“Let’s just say that I’m no longer in debt to the Crow Mother. She decided last night was the time I needed to pay up.”

“Hmm.” Duncan let out a low, unhappy grumble. “The power of that fae woman worries me.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Carys closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “It’s done. Debt fulfilled. Bargain finished.”

“I have a feeling we haven’t heard the last from her, but as for your bargain with her, you’re correct.” He kissed her shoulder. “You’re well and done with her. Thank the heavens.”

Carys closed her eyes and leaned her neck to the side as Duncan’s mouth moved from her shoulder to her neck, the warm velvet of his lips contrasting with the rough stubble of his beard.

Her skin prickled in awareness.

She was tempted. She was so tempted.

Duncan was right there, and she wanted him. Her body was screaming at her to turn and take whatever she wanted. He was ready, and she was too.

But bodies weren’t the problem. Her attraction to Duncan hadn’t ever been in doubt.

“So you went to the Brightlands.” His lips trailed soft kisses along her skin. “Did ya think about staying once you were there?”

“It was sunny in London.”

He laughed. “So that’s a yes?”

“No.” She blinked. “Actually I didn’t. Dru was with me, and all I could think about was getting back to Laura.” And you.

“You’re a good friend,” he whispered. “I had my eye on her. Once everyone realized you were missing, I made sure she had a carriage back to Dafydd’s with his guards before Lachlan and I went to look for you.”

Her heart swelled. “You’re a good man.”

“She’s a guest here. And your best friend. You can trust me to take care of her. I know what it’s like to be a stranger.”

“And that’s why you’re the laird of Murrayshall.”

His laugh was low. “Because I can call a carriage?”

She turned and met his eyes. “Because you think about the details, Duncan. No matter where we are.”

He took a strand of her hair between his fingers. “Just helping a friend.”

She whispered, “Thank you.”

His lips were right there. She wasn’t ready for everything Duncan wanted, but she couldn’t forget the memory of their kiss.

His eyes fell to her lips, and he mouthed her name. Carys .

She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of rosemary and metal. His breath touched her lips and?—

“Lady Carys!” A pounding came at the door. “The Kingsguard is in the hall!”

“The Cymric dragons caused a riot on the Night Bridge.” Wynnflad, newly promoted Chief Captain of the Kingsguard, stood at attention in Dafydd’s hall. “King Harold is not pleased. It’s the eve of his coronation, and there are foreign emissaries from the continent here.”

Carys had been called to Dafydd’s hall with Cadell, only to be greeted by a company of the Kingsguard standing at attention in front of her uncle’s table. She had thrown on a pair of linen leggings and a tunic while Duncan waited in her sitting room, but she felt distinctly underdressed with everyone in uniform.

Dafydd shrugged his massive shoulders. “One of my nêr ddraig was attacked by a troll illegally trading in human slaves in the night market. Her bonded dragon responded in the appropriate way. If a troll or two was injured, that is not our concern. They were criminals. Harold should be thanking my niece.”

The captain sighed. “There were two dragons sitting on the Night Bridge, spewing fire across the west side of the Cye Bourne. There were reports of fae involvement.” Winnie was clearly exasperated. “They were out of control. We haven’t seen a sign of the Great Serpent since last night.”

Dafydd looked at Cadell. “Were you out of control?”

“Of course not, my king.” He glanced at Winnie. “And at no time would we harm the Great Serpent. He is the guardian of the river and her creatures; all dragons of Briton revere his power. As soon as I located my lady,” he continued, “I retrieved her and left the market.”

“After lighting half of it on fire,” Winnie countered.

“We were defending ourselves from troll aggression.” Mared stood at Dafydd’s shoulder. “We could sense Lady Carys’s presence, but none of the market vendors were forthcoming and more than one implied that we should do anatomically impossible things.”

“They were insulting you, so you started a riot?” Winnie said. “Dafydd, you must see?—”

“As a complete coincidence, the Cymric throne is delighted to announce a redevelopment project on the east side of the Cye Bourne and the Night Bridge neighborhood,” the king said, interrupting her. “In honor of King Harold’s coronation. Consider it a gift from Cymru to Anglia. We’ll even build a guard station there to oversee the market.” Dafydd nodded toward Winnie. “Though of course we shall expect the Kingsguard to offer their soldiers to staff the outpost.”

Winnie opened her mouth, then closed it. “I will convey your… gift to King Harold,” she finally said, then turned to the guards behind her and nodded at them. “You may go. I have a matter to discuss with the Cymric king and do not have need of you,” she told her lieutenant. “Wait for me in the courtyard.”

“Yes, Captain.” The lieutenant nodded at Dafydd before swiftly departing the hall.

After they were gone and Winnie was alone with Dafydd, Carys, and the two dragons, she pulled out a chair and sat down. “Seriously, Your Highness?”

“Winnie, it’s not my fault that Carys needed to use the fae gate near the market. That neighborhood is lawless, and Edgar should have dealt with it years ago.”

Mared crossed her arms. “We did you a favor, driving off the worst of that lot.”

“My cousin has been king for less than two weeks, ” Winnie said. “You think he’s had time to deal with the troll markets and all the other things his father overlooked?”

Dafydd turned to Carys. “Winnie is an old friend and a trusted advisor of the new king. She spent time in our court as a child.”

“Why do you think I’m such a good archer?” Winnie smiled at Carys.

“I can speak freely then?” Carys asked.

“Of course.” Winnie nodded. “What do you have to say?”

“I was taken from the banquet to the troll market by the Crow Mother.” She wasn’t sure Winnie knew who that was. “She’s a fae sorceress, and I owed her a debt.”

“I know her by reputation.” Winnie frowned. “She’s a powerful creature. How did you come to owe her—” Winnie held up a hand. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

“Wise,” Cadell muttered.

“The Crow Mother mentioned something to me at the banquet that the king should know about.” Carys was relieved that she could speak to someone about what Branwen had told her at the banquet. “Before she took me, she looked at Queen Orla and said: ‘The queen will bring me her offering, and then everything will fall into place.’ I don’t know what she was talking about, but I have a feeling that Orla is not a friend.”

“An offering.” Winnie glanced at Dafydd. “Do you have any idea what she was referring to?”

“None.” Dafydd’s brow furrowed. “What could Orla offer the Crow Mother that she hasn’t given already? After decades of union with Cian, Orla’s more fae than human.”

And also the mother of a fae child, but Carys didn’t know if Dafydd had shared the knowledge of Regan’s origins with anyone outside of those who’d witnessed Regan’s death, which was only Carys, Dafydd, Duncan, and Lachlan.

Dafydd turned to Carys. “We have been in contact with Harold about the maps that Seren drew before she was killed. About the land bridge that Regan appeared to be building between éire and Briton.”

Winnie nodded. “I even went with Anwyn when she surveyed the islands. So far, no new land masses have appeared.”

“That means nothing,” Cadell said. “Cian is the power behind Orla’s throne, and fae plan in centuries, not years. Seren’s murder could have been the first step in their plans.”

“Harold knows what really happened to your Shadowkin,” Winnie said. “We also know that publicly, Queen Orla has claimed that Seren’s killer was working on her own. Even though it was her own daughter.”

“It’s possible that Regan’s death meant the death of whatever Orla was planning,” Dafydd said. “That has been our hope.”

“But an offering to the Crow Mother?” Winnie pursed her lips. “I agree with the dragon. It sounds like they’re still plotting.”

“If Orla and Cian had no idea what Regan was up to with Seren, I’ll eat a haggis in one sitting,” Carys said. “She knew. And Regan also had allies in the Anglian court; she said as much to me when she thought I was going to die.”

Winnie scowled. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but the problem is, Harold was not on good terms with his father. King Edgar was enamored with Orla. Always. And he was closer to the high fae than Harold would like. As Orla has aged—even though she doesn’t look it—Cian has taken more and more power.”

“So Harold agrees with us?” Carys glanced at Cadell. “He thinks Queen Orla is plotting something with the fae?”

Dafydd nodded. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted you here for the coronation. Winnie has been our liaison with Harold. She and Lachlan have been speaking with me about the plans they fear Orla is making. It’s the other reason Eamer didn’t come with me. Her mother is powerful, and she doesn’t want to be used as a pawn. We both felt she was safer in Cymru.”

“So we all suspect Orla and Cian are planning something, but no one has any idea what it is?” Carys looked at Cadell. “You guys have spies, right?”

Winnie smirked. “We’re not supposed to spy on our allies.”

“Bullshit,” Carys said. “All countries spy on their neighbors.”

Winnie said, “They may not be… spies , but magical creatures gossip worse than humans do.”

“What do you mean?” Carys asked.

“The wolves have heard rumors. Fae gates that have been dormant for years are waking.”

According to Carys’s sources, wolves loved war. She glanced at Cadell. Can the wolves be trusted?

Some of them.

Dafydd added, “We’ve heard the same from the dragons. Fae gates are shifting. The trees are growing faster, and old magic is waking.”

“Are there wolves in éire?” Carys spoke aloud. “Do they have—I don’t know—connected clans? Can they find out more that way?”

Winnie shook her head. “The fae hunted and drove the wolves from éire long ago, so we have to acknowledge there is bad blood between the fae and the wolves, but I don’t think Godrik would lie to me about this. His people have seen strange things around fae gates here in Anglia.”

Dafydd said, “And Lachlan says the Alban unicorns have also raised concerns.”

Cadell stepped forward. “Concerns like what?”

“Activity in barrows they thought were abandoned centuries ago,” Dafydd said. “Magical activity near gates that have been all but dead.”

“Godrik’s people have reported unseasonable vegetation that smells like magic in Essex,” Winnie added. “We’d like to investigate more, but I have to be very careful who to trust even among the Kingsguard. Much of the leadership is still loyal to Edgar’s memory, and Harold is a new king. My cousin trusts me and Godrik right now. Not many others.”

“Cadell and I can help.” Carys looked at Dafydd. “Right?”

“Absolutely.” Dafydd nodded. “Robb and Elinor are in agreement with Eamer and me that Orla and her ambitions are not in keeping with the Queens’ Pact. Her union with Cian has pushed her toward fae interests instead of human. We think she’s looking to exert more than her share of power in Briton.”

“ Balance is what is needed in Briton,” Mared said. “Not ambition.”

“Meet with us here,” Carys said to Winnie. “Between Cadell and me, Duncan and Lachlan, we can help you and Harold.” Carys sat up. “Laura can help too. She can read runes, and she’s smart as hell.”

Winnie looked at Carys. “You’re proposing an alliance?”

Dafydd beamed at Carys. “I told you, Winnie.”

“Oh no.” Carys held up her hand. “This is not me making a play for the Cymric throne. That’s a whole other problem, Uncle Dafydd.”

Unfortunately, Dafydd was still beaming.

“I’m just saying that until Harold is situated,” Carys said, “until he has confidence in his guards, he has backup from Cymru and Alba, right?” She looked at Cadell. “We can work quietly. I’m sure Lachlan and Duncan will help us figure out what’s going on.”

Cadell raised an eyebrow. “Lachlan and Duncan will do anything you ask them to. Backward and hopping on one foot if necessary.”

“I don’t need the sarcasm,” Carys muttered. “That’s not necessary.”

Winnie couldn’t hide her smile. “Godrik and me, Cadell, Carys, your American friend, and the two Alban boys. That makes seven of us. Seven isn’t a bad number.”

“It is not,” Dafydd said. “Let us meet after Harold’s coronation tomorrow, Captain. For now I’ll send a company of my people to the Night Bridge to reinforce Harold’s troops and start on our…” Dafydd glanced at the dragons. “…new development project. We’ll get all this cleaned up by tomorrow; I guarantee it.”

Carys was walking out of Dafydd’s morning room when she heard footsteps to her right. She turned and saw Anwyn walking toward her from a long narrow corridor with daylight at the end. The armor-clad woman saw Carys, stopped, then leaned back on her right foot and lifted her chin.

Carys had a feeling that Anwyn practiced that expression in the mirror, because the angle of her head displayed the long red scar that looked like a claw mark down the side of her face.

The effect was a little terrifying.

“I understand you had a misunderstanding at the troll market last night. The Kingsguard requested a report.”

“Uh…” Carys had no idea what she was supposed to tell Anwyn about their agreement to help King Harold figure out what was going on with the fae in Anglia.

Better to leave that for Dafydd to share. “It was a misunderstanding, but the Anglian guards had to kind of make a statement, I guess.” She lifted a finger. “Don’t let your dragons burn down markets in London again. Blah blah blah.”

Anwyn’s eyes narrowed. “My brother says you came back to the house covered in blood.”

“Not mine,” she said quickly. “But there was a troll I had to… stab. To get away.”

Anwyn’s expression never changed.

And Carys didn’t know how to stop talking. “I think that troll was pissed off because there was another troll who was holding a human woman captive and she was trying to get away, but her leg was chained to his, so Dru and I—well, Dru had the sword—we kind of chopped off… the troll’s leg. The first one, not the second one. The second one I stabbed, and then there was blood spray.” She spread her hand over her face. “Kind of everywhere. But I wasn’t hurt. Just the troll. Trolls. Two of them.”

Still very little change in expression. Carys was starting to wonder if one of the things they taught at the dragon academy was how to not display any human emotion.

“You speak very freely,” Anwyn finally said. “I would advise you not to share that story with just anyone.”

“But you’re not just anyone, right? You’re kind of my cousin.”

“I suppose we are related. In a way.”

“Right.” Not warm and friendly, but Anwyn was definitely looking at her with slightly less distaste than she had before.

“I appreciate your boldness,” Anwyn said. “And your sense of justice. Human and fae slavery is hideous, and I know Harold’s people are trying to stamp it out.”

“It seems like it.” She pointed over her shoulder. “It sounds like King Dafydd is going to help.”

Anwyn nodded. “Queen Eamer speaks highly of you.”

“Queen Eamer is very kind.” Carys’s voice softened. “And wise. I was hoping I would see her this week, but I understand why it was important for her to stay back in…”

“Caernarfon.” Anwyn motioned toward the corridor behind her. “Are you engaged?”

“Engaged?” God, was everyone curious about her love life? That was unexpected coming from such an obvious soldier. Anwyn’s expression didn’t exactly scream “girl chat.”

“Do you have some place you need to be?” Anwyn asked. “I was looking for you because the younger soldiers are practicing archery this morning, and my uncle said you are gaining proficiency.”

“Oh!” Carys smiled. “I’d love to do some practice shooting if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I am.” Anwyn didn’t exactly seem thrilled about the idea, but she also wasn’t glaring at Carys anymore. “Demelza also says that you have a compound bow, and I’d love to examine it.”

“Demelza?”

“My bonded dragon.”

“Ah. I do. And I’d be happy to show you.” Carys pointed toward the staircase. “I’ll get it and meet you outside?”

There was finally a spark of interest in Anwyn’s eyes. “Excellent.”

Anwyn pulled back the string of the compound bow after she’d nocked the arrow. Carys instructed her on how to use the release.

“Okay, you’re holding it exactly right. Do you see the loop?”

“I do.”

“Once you’ve aimed, you’re going to squeeze that release like I showed you. Keep that left arm angled out just a little so the string doesn’t hit you on release.”

Dylan said something in Cymric.

“It’s the same with a long bow.” Anwyn released the arrow with obvious expertise, hitting the target dead center as the soldiers around her murmured in approval. “Very good. Very smooth. Tremendous range. But slow. It takes too much time to set up a shot.”

“It is much slower than the short bow that Yurok people use,” Carys said. “I’ve been training on that one and my range isn’t as good, but it’s definitely faster.”

“The power is remarkable.” Anwyn examined the weapon. “An excellent machine.”

“I feel like it’s something you could reproduce here, but I don’t know about the fiberglass parts,” Carys said.

“It would be difficult with the materials we have available.” Anwyn shook her head. “Individual weapons? Perhaps. But nothing we could scale.”

“Understandable.”

Anwyn handed the compound bow back to Carys. “And what do you use for shooting from a coracle?”

“This one. The compound bow.” Carys lined up and took another shot, trying to ignore the curious eyes of the Cymric troops on her.

She didn’t hit the target dead center the way that Anwyn had, but she didn’t miss the target entirely. There were a few murmurs of approval, and then the majority of the men and women looking on returned to their own shooting.

“I use a short recurve when I’m focusing on speed, and like Cadell said, finding supplies for this one in the Shadowlands is not easy, so it’s important to learn both. I’m getting better with the recurve, but for accuracy and range, I’ve been training with this one. All the Chahta dragon riders use compound bows.”

“You’re not bad” —Anwyn’s mouth angled up at the corner— “for someone who’s only been training for six months.”

“Appreciate it. I’d like to spend more time on this and less on dancing, but there’s a party tomorrow and I’m required to attend.”

“You’re a curiosity. Walk with me.” Anwyn set down her own bow and started strolling behind the practicing archers. “You were a scholar before this?”

“Uh…” Carys smiled. “Yes. And I still am. I have to work. I teach at a university in the Brightlands.”

“What do you teach?”

“Mythology and world literature.”

Anwyn froze. “You teach poetry?”

“I mean, that’s part of it but?—”

“Not tactics? Political science? Not even military history?”

Carys blinked. “There’s politics and history in literature and mythology, but no, most of what I teach is more in the humanities area. Poetry, if you like. Philosophy. Things like that.”

Anwyn blinked and muttered something in Cymric.

“Listen.” Carys lowered her voice. “I know that our uncle envisions some kind of… role for me here, but I want you to know that I don’t see things that way. I don’t— I’m not Seren. And I don’t want to be.”

Anwyn stepped back and did the looking-down-the-nose thing again, showing off her scar. “And yet the scholar with only six months of archery training has bonded with a legendary dragon, is a passable archer, and stabs trolls in the marketplace while trying to free human captives.”

“I don’t get what you’re trying to?—”

“You’re brave and bold,” Anwyn said. “And Eamer says you’re smart. You could learn quickly. My brother thinks you’re trying to maneuver me out of the way to take the throne. Is he right?”

“No. He’s not right.”

“Should he be right?”

Carys frowned. “What are you saying?”

Anwyn shrugged. “I love my country. And soldiers don’t always make the best leaders. Look at King Harold. He prefers books to the blade, but that doesn’t matter because he’s smart enough to promote Wynnflad to be his Chief Captain. Winnie is the soldier so Harold doesn’t have to be.”

“I don’t want to be queen of Cymru.”

“No?” Anwyn started to walk away, keeping her eyes on the backs of the practicing troops. “Well, maybe that means you should be.”