Page 15 of The Shadow Path (Shadowlands #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

C adell and Laura sat across from Carys in her bedroom the next day.

“The fae know what you are?” the dragon asked.

“They say they know what I am.” Carys sipped her coffee and tried to calm her stomach. “ I don’t even know what I am, so they could say whatever they want and we don’t really have any way of disproving it.”

“The only one who may know the truth of your history and your magical abilities is your mother, who is dead.” Cadell glanced at Laura. “We need to speak to someone in Epona’s cult. Followers of the old gods sometimes have oral histories or records that?—”

“I know we both want to find out what the hell I am and why we bonded, but that’s probably not the main priority right now.” Carys’s belly rumbled and she groaned. “Why did I eat so much last night?”

Laura said, “Because the banquet lasted until three in the morning and there’s only so much you can dance?”

The food the night before had been a parade of roasted meats and crispy fish, creamed roots and vegetables, a dozen different cheeses, and honeyed fruit served across a dozen different courses that had stretched through the evening. Each course had been served with a different wine, ale, or mead.

Forget her assumptions, Anglian food was amazing.

And Carys’s stomach was in revolt.

Cadell’s appetite clearly hadn’t suffered. Earlier in the morning, he’d devoured the heap of venison sausage the maid brought and was currently picking at the bread as he finished his coffee.

Laura was nibbling on apples, but she was eating light.

“Coffee is it for me today.” Carys set down her cup and rubbed her temples. “I ate enough to last an entire week. What time is the meeting?”

Cadell stared out the window, a frown fixed on his face. “Captain Wynnflad is arriving midmorning with Godrik, purportedly to consult on the market rebuilding project.”

Cadell and Winnie had made their plans to meet the night before, passing messages to Godrik, Lachlan, and the rest of their secret alliance, but that was before Carys had gotten confirmation from Orla’s spokes-fae that a plan was very definitely in the works.

“I know you think that my identity and the source of my magic is important—and it is to us—but right now I think Orla’s scheming is the priority.”

“Orla and Cian, you mean.” Cadell nodded slowly.

Laura said, “From an outsider’s perspective, the éiren and the fae do have an opportunity if they want to take the advantage.”

Cadell turned to her. “Explain.”

“The islands of Briton have suffered a series of unexpected transitions,” Laura said. “Seren was murdered, and the truth about her death?—”

“Which obviously is still a secret to most people,” Carys said, “but the royal houses all know what really happened.”

“Exactly,” Laura said. “That leaves Cymru without an heir right now.”

“Yes.” Cadell finished his coffee and set down his mug. “Then King Edgar dies and there is a new king in Anglia, but his was an untimely death.”

“Exactly,” Laura said. “Harold is obviously building loyalty and trust with a government that his father put in place. They’re not his people, so he has to focus on that.”

Cadell added, “And there appears to be some debate about whether Lachlan or Rory should be high chief in Alba.”

Carys blinked. “That’s news to me.”

The dragon nodded. “I heard several Anglian courtiers last night gossiping about Lachlan’s diplomatic campaign. They seem to think the reason he’s down here instead of his brother is to cement his position as heir.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Did it change anything? Not if Lachlan was in Anglia to gain allies. Clearly that meant he wanted to be king.

“The islands of Briton are two small dots in a large ocean, but they hold four different kingdoms and millions of human and magical lives,” Cadell said. “Tensions are always high, but the Queens’ Pact holds the peace.”

Laura said, “But if Orla and Cian are looking to disrupt that peace, now might be the time they would try.”

“Agreed.” Carys picked at a pear, but the thought of eating anything was too much. “My identity” —and my love life— “is not the priority. We should do everything we can to figure out what the éirens and the fae are planning.”

Cadell stood. “I’m going to the library. Your uncle agreed that meeting in the hall might attract too many eyes. Fae spies are everywhere.”

Meeting in the hall might not have been the best course of action, but Dafydd’s library was not the cavernous chamber Carys had found in the Alban castle. By the time two large Scottish men, a seven-foot dragon, and a wolf shifter the size of a small shed joined Carys and Laura, the library felt more than a little bit crowded.

Godrik glanced at Carys with suspicion. “Anwyn and Dylan are not here? Does that mean the Cymric heir has been?—”

“It means that my uncle has other tasks for them and would prefer to keep them out of this for now.” Carys spoke quickly. “Please do not assume anything else.”

Godrik grunted and lowered himself into an upholstered leather chair that groaned as he sat. “My father and Harold are worried. Did Winnie tell you?”

Cadell said, “She told us a little bit. Why are the old fae gates such a concern?”

“Because that’s how they move.” Godrik’s voice rumbled. “They may use magic now—secretive twats—but the old gates? The old magic? It’s still there. They used them in éire when Cian slaughtered the wolf clans there. What’s to say that they won’t use them in Anglia for the same thing?”

“Do you think that’s what they want?” Carys asked. “You think the fae want to kill off the North Wolves in Anglia like they did in éire?”

Godrik shrugged. “I hear your skepticism, but the wolves are the backbone and magical defense of Anglia. If we’re taken out, Harold and his entire country are weaker.”

“Why do the fae hate the North Wolves so much?” Laura asked. “Forgive my ignorance, but I don’t know your stories, and I feel like that might be important.”

Godrik scooted forward. “There is no apology needed. Our stories are our own. Wolves are not native to Briton. At least, not magical ones. We came with the Anglians when they crossed the sea and invaded over a thousand years ago.”

Laura nodded slowly. “So the fae are native to Briton, and they see you as invaders?”

“Fae are everywhere,” Duncan said. “They take different forms, but they’re everywhere. They spread across the Shadowlands after the old gods went quiet, so they can’t judge the wolves for migrating.”

The library door opened, and Captain Wynnflad joined them. “Sorry I’m late.” She looked at Godrik. “It’s not the migration.”

“It’s the magic,” Godrik said. “The wolves are resistant to fae magic.”

“As are other magical races,” Laura said. “But the fae don’t seem to antagonize them as much.”

“It’s prejudice,” Lachlan said bluntly. “Old-fashioned prejudice. Most fae of the Temris Court—the high fae, not the wild—see North Wolves as less than the other magical races.”

Cadell looked at Laura. “I’ve heard fae say that wolf minds are more animalistic?—”

Godrik growled.

“An insult and an excuse,” Cadell continued. “Obviously. But they see the wolves as less, yet they can resist fae influence more easily than humans.”

“They can’t control us,” Godrik said. “And we tend to settle arguments with tactics they find distasteful.”

Laura looked around the room. “Which are?”

“Trial by combat is popular when we have conflicts.”

Lachlan said, “Yet historically, most fae kings or queens were chosen via challenge, so I’ve always found that ironic.”

Godrik humphed. “Blood prices are acceptable among our own if someone is injured or killed.” He shrugged. “We keep to the old laws. But that’s only among ourselves. With other races, we abide by the king’s law.”

North Wolves love war. A unicorn had told Carys that once, but to her, it sounded more like the wolves of Briton kept to an older code that was definitely brutal but she couldn’t classify as warlike. Not exactly.

“So the fae hate the wolves and the wolves hate the fae,” Laura said. “And the humans?”

“The Anglian throne has always allied with the North Wolves,” Godrik said. “We conquered Anglia together and staked out our territories. We have always supported the Anglian throne and always will. But Edgar was…” Godrik’s expression looked like he’d smelled something nasty.

Winnie jumped in. “My uncle was less allied to the wolves than his mother was. He was fascinated by Queen Orla and had quietly campaigned to marry one of her daughters.” She nodded at Carys. “Your aunt actually. He wanted the connection to Orla and Cian, but Eamer preferred Dafydd.”

“Any hard feelings there?” Carys asked.

“Not really,” Winnie said. “It wasn’t a matter of affection. And it didn’t matter to Edgar—he still increased the number of fae courtiers in his council and started handing out favors to Orla and Cian’s people.”

Lachlan said, “My father and I believe that Orla saw an opportunity with Edgar. And as he grew older, she became more determined to cement fae influence in Anglia. And from the éiren perspective, there are better trade routes to the continent via Anglia, especially now that the Frisians have spells that control the leviathans in the Channel.”

“She was building a land bridge,” Carys said. “Between éire and the rest of Briton.”

“She was,” Winnie said. “But Seren discovered what she was doing.”

“So they killed her.” Lachlan’s voice was rough. He glanced at Carys. “Or Regan did. Maybe Orla and Cian have decided that reviving the old gates is easier than a land bridge.”

“But why?” Carys asked. “What does Queen Orla want? Money? Territory? Just pure power?”

“The fae draw their power from the land,” Lachlan said. “If they control more land, they have more power.”

“I know I’m not an expert here,” Laura said. “But as someone who is trained in elemental magic and is new here, I can tell you that this place” —she held her hands out— “Anglia. London. Everything in the magic around here feels very… off.”

Godrik frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re magical creatures, but you live here.” Laura looked at Cadell and Godrik. “If this imbalance has been happening for a while, you might not have sensed it. But the magic here is restless. It’s…” Her entire body shivered. “It’s very hard to explain, but there is a lot of tension. Almost like a fault line before an earthquake if that makes sense.”

“I believe you,” Godrik said, “but what does that mean for us? For the wolves?” He glanced at Winnie, then at Lachlan. “For all of Briton?”

“Briton doesn’t have earthquakes.” Duncan, who’d been silent for most of the conversation, finally spoke. “But now Orla and Cian are reaching for more power. The magic is unsettled. The thrones are in play.” He looked at Carys, then at Lachlan. “I’m just saying that there is more than one kind of earthquake, and there might be one brewing in Anglia.”

“We have to figure out what Orla wants,” Carys said. “And what this offering to the Crow Mother might be.”

Godrik and Winnie couldn’t stay all afternoon, not without tongues wagging, so they departed only an hour after the meeting had started.

Duncan grumbled something about finding Angus before he left the library, and Cadell and Laura went to gather some of the wood and herbs she would need to perform magic, leaving Carys alone with Lachlan in the cozy library where a fire was burning and Carys was surrounded by books.

She crossed her legs in the massive chair and stared at the fire.

“You’re in your happy place,” Lachlan said.

Carys blinked. “My happy place?”

Lachlan looked around the room. “Fire. Books. Comfortable chair. If I grabbed some tea and a blanket, you’d never leave.”

She smiled. “You know me.”

“Aye, I do.” He stretched out his legs and set them on the low table in front of the fire. “I missed you last night, but you looked like you were having fun.”

“I’ve never danced with that many women before. I was a little worried about stepping on toes that weren’t covered in big heavy boots.”

Lachlan’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t know. Godrik’s sister had boots on, I’m sure of it.”

“I believe she did.” She leaned back in the chair and watched him. The room was dim, and most of the light came from the fire and the narrow windows that illuminated the old library. “There are rumors swirling that you came down to Anglia to cement your position as the Alban heir to the throne.”

Lachlan’s eyes didn’t move from the fire. “I came to Anglia to see you.”

“And attend Harold’s coronation.”

“Yes. We grew up together.”

“And cement your position?”

He frowned. “It’s not… a single thing, Carys. Nothing in my life is ever wholly for one reason or another. There are layers to everything I have to do. The one time that I did exactly what I wanted and only what I wanted was when I left the Shadowlands to find you.” He blinked and finally looked at her. “And obviously that didn’t turn out the way I expected either.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So your brother Rory is angling for the throne.”

“Yes, he is.” Lachlan leaned toward the fire. “I have a feeling he knew what Seren’s and my plans were when we married. He’s a bright boy, and he grew up in Dafydd’s court. It’s very possible he knew our plan was to hand the Alban throne to him when my father died, and even after Seren was killed, he decided he wanted it.”

“And you don’t want to hand it over anymore?”

He looked into her eyes. “Do you love me?”

Carys blinked. “I loved you very much, and you know that.”

“But do you love me now? You are nêrys ddraig, but obviously you and Cadell have made things work in California. You have a life there. You’re not going to take the Cymric throne; I don’t care what Dafydd’s dreams are.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“So do you love me, Carys? Do you want me?” He leaned forward. “You say the word and I hand it to Rory. When my father dies, I’ll give him the throne. I’ll move back to California and leave all this.”

“And you wouldn’t miss it? You wouldn’t feel like you were abandoning your responsibilities?”

A muscle under Lachlan’s eye twitched, but he said nothing.

Carys leaned toward him. “It’s not a simple thing. You said it yourself. Nothing you do is ever only for one reason. And Lachlan, I respect that. I maybe…” She laughed a little bit. “I maybe respect you more than I did before, because I see you stepping into that role. I see you sacrificing your own wishes to do what you think is right and necessary for the people you might rule.”

“You respect me,” he said quietly. “But do you love me?”

She blinked back tears. “I don’t know anymore.”

“That’s fair,” he whispered. “I don’t expect things to be the way they were. They can’t be.” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “And I see the way you look at Duncan. I see the way he looks at you.” Lachlan closed his eyes. “He’s a good man, Carys. He would… he would do anything for you. He could be anyone for you. Anyone you needed him to be.”

She sniffed. “I don’t want anyone to be anything other than themselves. I don’t want you to change yourself for me. I don’t want Duncan to either.”

Lachlan leaned back, and his eyes smiled at her with a wisdom that made Carys feel young and foolish. “But that is life, mo chridhe. We all grow and change. We all have to bend. Only children expect the world to revolve around their wishes.”

“I don’t expect the world to revolve around my wishes, but I want to find my own path. I need to find my own path.”

Lachlan’s eyes were warm and glowing. “When you find it—because you will—you let me know if you want my company walking with you.”

Carys stared at the wood beyond the meadows where black-faced sheep were grazing.

The magic of the Shadowlands was unsettled. There was tension. She was too new to magic to have felt it, but Laura had perceived it immediately.

Like a fault line before a quake.

Night on the river with the Crow Mother lurking in the trees and the river fae putting on a show. Riddles spoken between a fae exile and a triple-faced sorceress with power that even Queen Orla had to appease.

An offering.

Carys tried to piece together what Orla could offer a powerful fae like the Crow Mother that she couldn’t simply take for herself.

None of this made sense. The Queens’ Pact had kept Briton at peace for centuries. The agreement, forged centuries before, demanded that royal children be fostered in foreign courts to secure the peace of the islands. It wasn’t always agreeable to rulers, but it had been successful for generations.

Briton’s people were thriving, and their rulers cooperated. Unlike empires in the Brightlands, the magic of this placed kept human ambition in check. It kept human empires in check.

The fae ruled over humans; they were at the top of the food chain. They controlled the gates. They controlled everything in the Shadowlands.

“Are you the reason the river folk are singing a kingsong and the serpent has risen from the deep? Won’t Cian be pleased?”

“You let me worry about Cian and don’t bother yourself with mortal matters, old one.”

“Old one,” Carys whispered.

Carys flashed back to her memories of the Crow Mother in the woods. To the moment when Dru arrived and they spoke in riddles before the Crow Mother changed her appearance and disappeared.

She’d shown them three faces. The mature, vital woman Carys had bargained with, but two others flashed quickly in the shadows. A dark-eyed maiden. A bent old woman.

Carys blinked.

No.

Oh no.

Cadell. She called out in her mind, hoping the dragon was near.

Nêrys?

Can you come to my room?

He didn’t answer, but a few minutes later, she heard a knock on her door.

Cadell was standing in the doorway, towering over her with a grim expression on his face. “What is it? What is wrong?”

She pulled him inside. “How many faces can fae take?”

Cadell frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Humans have one face. I mean physically, we have one face.” She pointed to her own. “Shifters have two, obviously. Your beast and your human face.”

“Yes.” Cadell nodded as if she was a rambling child. “And the fae have one face. Like humans.”

“One face.” She let out a breath. “And their glamour?”

Cadell shrugged. “It changes their face in subtle ways. It can make them more attractive or more foul, but it’s still the same face.”

“So who has three faces?” Carys leaned toward him and dropped her voice. “Who has three aspects? Three completely different forms?”

Cadell blinked. “Gods.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “The gods. Duncan and Lachlan thought Angus was a fae, but he’s not. Clearly he’s not. He can handle iron.”

“But he presents himself as fae,” Cadell said cautiously. “And you think?—”

“The Crow Mother is not fae,” Carys said. “She’s some kind of god, some kind of deity with a triple aspect. There are any number of possibilities, but the fact remains that I traded passage to the Brightlands not to a fae who is going to lose her power there but to a god who could be just as powerful in the Brightlands as the Shadowlands.”

Cadell’s face went blank. “The magic is unsettled.”

“Maybe the magic is unsettled because an actual god has left the Shadowlands.”

He frowned. “What does this have to do with Orla and Cian?”

“I have no idea.” She gritted her teeth. “None. But I tell you one thing, we need to get some fae perspective on this. We need to know what kind of offering a god might want from a fae. Because that might be what all this is about.”

“Fae perspective?” Cadell crossed his arms. “We’re trying to stop a fae war. What kind of fae can we trust?”

“I don’t know. Maybe one who doesn’t want war.”