Page 13 of The Shadow Path (Shadowlands #2)

CHAPTER TWELVE

T he morning of King Harold of Anglia’s coronation was overcast and cool, but the window out of Carys’s room overlooked Dafydd’s garden where flowers of bright red and yellow burst from the ground, giving the appearance of sunshine even where none existed.

A light knock came at her door.

“Come in.”

A maid entered the room and immediately moved to tend the fire in Carys’s hearth. “Good morning, Lady Carys.”

“Good morning.” Carys couldn’t remember the woman’s name. In Dafydd’s London house, there were far more servants than in the castle in Sgain. She’d been in London a few days, and she was still seeing new faces every morning she woke up.

“Carys?” A sleepy voice came from town the hall.

“In here.”

“Okay, this is so weird. I’ve never spent this much time out of sunlight before.” Laura wandered into her room after the maid, yawning and scratching her head. “Growing up in Baywood, I thought I could exist without it, but this is on another level.”

“I know.” Carys turned away from the windows and leaned on the small table as the maid finished with the fire and rolled a cart with steaming trays into the room.

“Will you take your breakfast in Lady Carys’s room, Miss Laura?” the maid asked.

“That would be great. Thanks.” Laura plopped down in the chair across from Carys and watched the maid bring the cart over. “You know, I’m going to go back to Baywood eventually and I’ll have to make my own breakfast every morning, and it will be tragic.”

Carys smiled. “If you want Cadell to deliver a charred deer carcass to your front step daily, that can probably be arranged.”

“Tempting as that is” —Laura rolled her eyes— “I will pass.”

Carys sat down and lifted the teapot the maid set on the table. “Just water?”

The maid nodded. “Freshly boiled, my lady.”

“You’re wonderful.”

The maid’s cheeks dimpled with pleasure.

They waited for the young woman to leave the room before Carys hurried to her knapsack and dug for the tiny tubes of instant coffee she’d smuggled into the Shadowlands.

“Come on, come on,” Laura urged her. “Don’t hold out on me. They brought fresh cream.”

“You know what the Shadowlands has taught me? Honey in coffee is surprisingly delicious.” Carys brought two instant coffees to the table and handed one to Laura. “Your daily fix, my lady.”

“You’re not a dragon rider—you’re a goddess.” Laura tore the packet open with her teeth and poured it into the delicate glass teacup on the table before she added water. “Oh, sweet, sweet coffee.”

Carys was just as eager to get her caffeine fix. She poured the steaming water over the dried coffee before she handed the teapot to Laura and stirred.

The distinctive aroma of roasted arabica filled the room.

Nêrys . Cadell spoke in her mind. You have brewed coffee.

It’s not good for dragons, Cadell.

Coffee is not good for dogs. It has no detrimental effect on dragons, and you know it.

“Cadell wants to poach our coffee,” Carys said. Next time you should bring your own.

The dragon had discovered a love for very strong coffee after moving to Baywood. It was a love that Carys could appreciate, but that didn’t mean she was sharing.

There was another knock on the door.

Laura narrowed her eyes and sipped her coffee. “Be careful.”

“I will be.” Carys left her steaming ambrosia on the table and walked to the door. She opened it a sliver and saw Duncan on the other side. “Hey.”

He was dressed in loose woolen pants that hung on his narrow hips and wore a tunic open at the neck.

“You have coffee in there,” Duncan muttered in a throaty growl. “I can smell it.”

“You should have brought your own,” she whispered.

He put his hand flat on the door and pushed his way into the room. “A packet or I’m telling the dragon.”

“Duncan—”

He caged Carys against the wall and kicked the door shut with one determined foot. “You smell delicious.” He leaned in and put his face near Carys’s neck. “One cup of what you’re drinking will buy my silence and whatever else you might want from a lonely and very eager-to-please blacksmith.”

Laura coughed loudly.

Duncan turned to her with narrowed eyes. “You have company.”

“Yes, just letting you know that I am in here , and also the dragon already knows about the coffee.” Laura sipped from her cup, smacking her lips before she blew some of the steam in Duncan’s direction. “And if you wanted to get rich in this place, a thriving business in black market coffee would do the trick.”

“If I wanted a fortune in millet, I’d agree with you.” Duncan grabbed Carys around the waist, wrapped a burly arm around her, and whispered, “Please. My lady. My queen. Goddess of Baywood, bless me with your coffee.”

Carys shivered at the scrape of his beard against her neck. “I have limited quantities, Duncan.”

“Tell me what you desire.” His breath was on her neck. “I will be your willing servant if only you’ll?—”

“Give the man a coffee or get a room,” Laura barked. “I do not need a front-row seat for your messed-up love life, Carys.”

Carys wanted to feel Duncan’s lips in other places that weren’t her neck, but recognizing that neither of them needed an audience, she gently pushed his shoulder back and nodded toward the table. “Sit down and say nothing to anyone about what you’re about to drink.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist with fervent adoration. “Lady, I am your servant.”

Laura muttered, “Damn it, why does shit like that work?”

“Every time.” Carys felt her heart racing, and she hadn’t even had her caffeine yet. “I’ll get you a packet, but next time plan ahead.”

Duncan’s eyes were fixed on her until Carys turned toward the wardrobe.

“I think Dru drilled it into my head that nothing from our world could pass through the gates so often I never even considered bringing coffee.” Duncan slumped in the chair next to Laura and yawned. “I imagine he meant steel and technology, but I took it to mean everything.”

“Coffee comes from Africa,” Laura said. “They don’t have it here?”

“According to Cadell” —Carys walked back to the table with a packet of coffee and an earthenware mug from the cabinet— “it’s more common in the Middle East and Eastern Europe, but it still hasn’t caught on in Western Europe.”

“And definitely not in Briton.” Duncan reached for the mug and the packet. “But facing a day of Anglian ceremonies is going to be so much better with caffeine.” He grabbed Carys’s hand and kissed her knuckles again. “Thank you.”

Carys managed to ignore the fluttery feeling in her belly when she felt Duncan’s lips on her skin. “Apparently Eamer picked out our clothes and had them sent over to make sure we were all presentable,” she said. “She flew everything to Dafydd by dragon last night.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Duncan said. “Lachlan’s mother sent clothes for me since I’m officially in the Alban court’s party.”

“I’ve never been to a coronation before,” Laura said. “But I did attend the installation of the Wykanush high chief a couple of years ago. It was…” She sighed. “…a very long week.”

“Thank God this one only lasts a day.” Duncan sipped his black coffee and closed his eyes in bliss. “But Anglian ceremonies tend to have a lot of stag dancing, a lot of beer, and the wolves like to get crazy. So stay close, both of you.”

Carys, Duncan, and Laura were dressed and ready by late afternoon. They flew by coracle and landed in a large meadow that sloped down from the hill where a massive bonfire was already burning. There were stag dancers circling the fire, and a great stone throne had been erected at the apex of the mound that was the highest point in London.

“That’s Lud’s Hill.” Duncan raised his voice as they walked off the coracle, trying to compete with the pounding drummers that weaved through the milling crowds. “It’s the center of ancient Anglia. The first of Harold’s ancestors is buried beneath it. According to Shadowlands history?—”

“Lud,” Carys said. “King Lud, right? He was a pre-Roman British king.” She frowned. “That’s wild that they have the same history here.”

“There’s some debate,” Duncan said. “No one is sure if Lud was real or a myth, but for tradition’s sake, that’s Lud’s throne, so that’s where Harold will sit to officially take power.”

It appeared to be built for a giant. According to what Dafydd had told her, it was made of sarsen stone and etched with Anglian history and the names of the kings and queens who had ruled the south of Briton for over a thousand years.

Carys wished she could see the etchings better, but the closest they were going to get in this gathering was about halfway up the hill where she could see Cymric banners waving in the torchlight. A royal box for the nêr ddraig was elevated from the crowd and guarded by Cymric soldiers with bright green uniforms.

Nêrys, you have arrived.

“I just heard Cadell.” She spun around, looking for the dragon. “He’s here.”

We just landed. She spoke to the dragon in her mind as they crossed from the meadow into the maelstrom. Duncan is with us, and we’re headed to Dafydd’s box.

Be careful. There are many fae here, many wolves, and a large gathering of trolls. There might be fighting with a crowd this size.

“Cadell is worried about fights,” Carys said. “Duncan?”

“Uh…” He shook his head. “With this many people—no matter what world you’re in—it’s a possibility.”

“This is crazy.” Laura stood on her tiptoes to scan the mass of people that was flooding the riverbank. There were boats packed with folk who had gathered on the river, and fae lights danced in blue and purple overhead. “I’ve never seen this many magical creatures and people anywhere in the Shadowlands before.”

“London is massive in both worlds,” Duncan said. “I’m sure American cities are the same.”

“Yeah, that’s probably why I avoid them,” Laura said.

“Carys, keep your arm in mine.” Duncan held it out and locked her forearm against his side. “This crowd is something else.” He held out his left arm. “Laura, you too.”

“Gladly.” Laura locked her arm with Duncan’s and kept her eyes on the ground as they trudged up the earthen hill that was already churned and muddy from so many feet.

For this ceremony, Cadell would not be there to escort them unless something went very wrong. He and all the Cymric dragons save Mared waited like towering sentinels in the meadow west of the hill, guarding the ceremony with their presence.

On the eastern side, Carys saw a line of blood-red balauri positioned in much the same way. To the south, lines of red-coated guards dominated the field, the wide bridge, and the riverbank where it appeared that every Londoner in the Shadowlands had gathered to watch Harold climb from a barge on the Tamis River to Lud’s Hill, where he would sit on the same throne his father and grandmother had when they’d claimed the seat of power on their own coronation nights.

To the north and beyond Lud’s Hill, more soldiers had gathered, dressed in blue and silver, and in their midst, she saw moving figures that glowed with ethereal light as a large company of unicorns joined the Alban troops to guard the northern border of the ceremonial hill.

“Wow.”

Carys didn’t miss the ceremonial touches. Alban troops guarding the north, Cymric dragons guarding the west, Anglian troops in the south, and red balauri guarding the east and the skies nearest to Continental Europe.

But if the Queens’ Pact ruled all of Briton, what had the éiren nation provided as part of the ceremony? Their absence was noticeable.

“Orla and Cian are here?” Carys looked at the other royal boxes, but they were in the distance and it was hard to see who was in them.

“I’m sure they are,” Duncan said. “Somewhere.”

“Okay, this is crazy.” Laura’s voice rose over the pounding drums that grew louder as they approached the hill. “But also amazing.”

As they approached Lud’s Hill, Carys looked at the wooden platforms erected for royal guests, visiting dignitaries, and Anglian nobles. She was searching for the éiren contingent, but she saw no sign of Orla and Cian.

She tugged Duncan’s arm.

“Aye, lass? If you have a question, I’m as lost as you are. I know this hill is where Saint Paul’s Cathedral is located in the Brightlands, but I have no idea?—”

“Where is the éiren box?” She scanned the crowd. “And their defenses. I see Alban unicorns mixed with Lachlan’s soldiers, and Cymric dragons buttressing Dafydd’s troops, but surely the éirens and the fae are here too. As the fourth kingdom in the Queens’ Pact, wouldn’t they… I don’t know, contribute?”

“Cian and Orla are there.” Duncan pointed at a large group of brightly dressed fae on the eastern side of the hill. “Mixing among the fae. But they won’t have brought any soldiers.”

“Why not?” As they climbed into the Cymric box, she scanned the teeming throngs of London that spread along the river. There had to have been a half a million people or more.

“I believe the éiren army is small,” Duncan said. “And their general is the crown princess Finola. She’ll be back in éire if her mother is here, I’d guess. But as I said, they don’t have a large army. They mainly depend on fae mages for their defense.”

Carys wondered whether Harold would even welcome éiren troops on Anglian soil, knowing what had happened with Orla’s own daughter.

Laura shouted, “This is not like the high chief’s ceremony at all.”

Duncan shook his head. “I’ve never seen the like.”

There was nothing dignified or ceremonial about the coronation so far. The entire spectacle felt more like a sporting event than a solemn ceremony.

“But the éiren throne are allies,” Carys said. “At least publicly, right?”

Duncan raised both eyebrows. “You know, you never explained why the Kingsguard was at Dafydd’s house yesterday. Anything you want to share?”

“Yes.” She’d have to if their alliance to support Winnie became a reality. “But not tonight.”

Duncan growled. “Carys, I can’t help if I don’t know?—”

“Lachlan!” Laura shouted over the hubbub. “Carys, there’s Lachlan!”

She saw him in the distance, standing in the Alban royal box with various nobles and dressed in blue finery with silver and blue flags flying overhead.

Her former boyfriend was surrounded by guards and courtiers, leaning down to speak to a silver-haired woman in a red cape with fur trim while another courtier—a being that Carys guessed might be a unicorn—waited to speak to him.

He nodded gravely before he turned to the waiting unicorn and shook his hand, clasping it between his own as he listened to whatever the older man was communicating.

Lachlan looked serious and consequential.

He looked… like a king.

And Carys suddenly realized that all this ceremony and pomp—all the tradition and heraldry—was all something that Lachlan would face some day. King Robb was in good health, but King Edgar had been too.

This was Harold’s present and Lachlan’s future.

Something in her heart cracked.

And eased at the same time.

Nêrys, you feel sorrow.

She tried to calm her heart. She didn’t want Cadell worried about her. I’m just seeing clearly, I think. Maybe for the first time. She clutched Duncan’s arm a little tighter. Lachlan will be king someday.

If he wishes it, Cadell said in her mind. Yes, he will.

Where does that leave me?

Wherever you want, my lady. If your uncle has his wish ? —

“Oh no, we’re not even going there,” she muttered.

“What?” Duncan shouted.

“Nothing!” The drums reached a fever pitch, and Carys realized that Harold’s river barge had reached the dock in front of Lud’s Hill. “I’ll tell you later. It looks like the coronation is about to start.”

King Harold’s coronation was as raucous and as rowdy as the drums and crowds had promised it would be. There was dancing and singing. There were shouted speeches projected by fae magic and a light show in the sky over the river.

The Great Serpent breached the darkness of the river and showered the surface with a feathery gold illumination, which everyone in the crowd took to mean a blessing and divine approval for the new regent.

It was a sign to celebrate, and the city did.

An hour after Harold had ascended the throne, draped in blood-red garments trimmed in white fur, the ceremony at Lud’s Hill had spread through the city while the newly crowned king departed to his castle on a river barge guarded by the Great Serpent of the Tamis while the crowds cheered.

There was dancing in the meadows along the river, and the smell of roasting meat floated through the air by the time Cadell found them in King Dafydd’s box.

“We will fly to the castle for King Harold’s party,” Cadell shouted. “Let’s get to the coracle.”

Dafydd himself had been plucked from the royal box by Mared in beast form, while Carys’s two cousins, Anwyn and Dylan, grasped the giant claws of their dragons and stared down at Carys as they flew away.

“Show-offs,” Laura muttered. “You could totally do that.” She glanced at Carys. “If you weren’t wearing a dress.”

“I just wore what Eamer picked out for me.” Which was an emerald-green gown sewn with seed pearls and embroidered with gold and silver thread. It was a dress fit for a royal coronation, but it wasn’t conducive to flying with a dragon.

Duncan took both hers and Laura’s hands before he led them down the stairs and through the swiftly departing crowd. “Still glad we can fly by dragon instead of going by carriage. It would be faster to walk than ride tonight.”

They made it to the luxurious coracle moments later, and Carys breathed a sigh of relief when the heavy door thunked closed.

She sat on the bench and whispered, “Cadell, get us out of here.”

Her heart was heavy, and every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was Lachlan looking kingly.

It did nothing to diminish the attraction. If anything, seeing her former lover step into the leadership role he’d been born into made him more attractive, not less. He was noble and serious. Warmth still emanated from his expressions, but there was a gravity that had joined it.

He was a chief. A leader.

Carys felt a warm hand slide into her own, and she opened her eyes to see Laura watching her.

“You okay?”

Carys nodded.

“Too much noise?”

“Yeah.” It was an easy excuse. “I don’t know how Dafydd thinks I’d survive being queen of Cymru” —she let out a harsh laugh— “when I can’t even handle watching a coronation without getting a migraine.” She pressed her lips together. “The party at the castle will be quieter, right?”

“I have no idea.” Laura’s sad smile told Carys she knew it wasn’t just a headache troubling her friend. “It was a very cool experience. Completely different than the high chief’s dedication. Way more beer at this party.”

Duncan was sitting across from Carys, his eyes scanning the ground, one hand on the bolt that secured the massive coracle door.

Carys nodded toward him. “He takes his guard duty seriously.”

“When you told me Duncan was Lachlan’s complete opposite, I was expecting a surly asshole because Lachlan is so sweet and charming,” Laura said. “And he can be. But Duncan’s also one of the most conscientious men I’ve ever met.” She nodded at Carys. “He takes care of you and everyone you care about. I like that. Even if he is a collection of sharp edges at times.”

“Well, he does make swords in his spare time.”

Laura smiled. “I saw Lachlan tonight.”

“Yeah.” Carys kept a smile firmly in place. “He looked great, right?”

“He looked like a CEO and a politician,” Laura said. “Like a king.”

Carys nodded. “I’m sure he’s going to make a good one.”

“Even though he says he doesn’t want it?”

Carys shrugged. “He goes back and forth.”

“And you?” Laura raised an eyebrow.

“I was going back and forth.” Carys kept her voice low and glanced at Duncan. “But maybe not anymore.”