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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A t midday the day after Harold’s coronation, Carys waited on the edge of Hyde Forest. She had whispered her request into the roots of an old yew tree with daffodils growing at the base.

Dewch ataf fi, Naida.

In all honesty, Carys had no idea if the ellyllon would hear her. She didn’t have Dru’s power, but she was hoping a tree that was so clearly fae-touched might carry her message.

Carys .

I’m here. Cadell had wanted to come with her, but she’d refused the offer.

You are asking another favor of a fae, the dragon said. This is unwise.

I’m asking a favor of Naida. She’s not like other fae.

Ellyllon will still expect something in payment.

Carys knew that. She also knew that of all the fae she could go to for answers, Naida was the one who had helped her when she needed it.

Carys waited, sitting on a large stone a little ways away from the yew. She was starting to get nervous about dusk and the wolves in the forest when she heard a quiet voice singing through the trees.

“Write me a poem of heather and firth, where forest touches night and night becomes earth…”

Carys stood and walked back toward the clearing where the yew tree lived.

Naida sat at the base of the yew, and the tree’s roots reached up and curled around her like a cat searching for attention.

The small fae woman ran her palm along the old roots and looked at Carys. “You called for me, Nêrys Ddraig?”

“I appreciate that you came.” She was making a gamble talking to Naida, but there were multiple reasons for that gamble, and her power was only one of them. “How is Dru?”

Naida waved a hand. “He’s long healed.”

And yet the fae mound in front of Dafydd’s house where Dru and Naida had disappeared was still there.

And still blooming flowers.

Carys waited, but Naida didn’t elaborate. “So I met some of Orla’s people last night at Harold’s coronation.”

Naida’s eyebrows went up. “Is that so?”

“They acted like they knew who I was.”

The fae woman smiled. “I think everyone in Briton knows who you are, Carys. Brightkin of a dead princess. A human from the other side who bonded with a dragon. There’s only one like you.”

“Is there?” Carys walked over and sat in the grass in front of Naida. “Lachlan crossed the gates. Others have too.”

Naida leaned forward. “You wonder about your parents?”

“I know my father was Brightkin because Dafydd is here. But what about my mother?”

“What about her?” Naida narrowed her eyes. “Nothing is born here but by magic, Carys Morgan. Shadowkin cannot bear children, not even if they travel to the Brightlands.”

“Are you sure of that?”

Naida shrugged. “Are we ever truly sure of anything?”

“I’m sure that Orla is plotting something with Cian,” Carys said. “Something about the old fae gates here in Anglia.”

Naida reared back, resting her head against the yew. “Is she?”

This was a risk. Cadell wasn’t convinced the ellyllon wouldn’t align with the high fae in éire. But Carys thought it was worth taking a chance. And if Naida ended up spilling Carys’s secrets to Orla, would it be anything the éiren queen didn’t already know?

“The ellyllon keep their own company,” Carys continued. “You are known to be solitary. Nonpolitical.”

Naida looked up into the trees. “We don’t like politics and we tend to the wild. That puts us at odds with our brethren sometimes. What are you asking of me? I do not speak for anyone but myself.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to.” Carys scooted toward Naida. “You know who came after me in Alba, right?”

Naida’s blue eyes were as bright and swift as a jay’s. “I know what really happened to your Shadowkin.” She lowered her voice. “Who really killed her.”

“Aisling might have poisoned Seren, but it was Regan pulling the strings. And Orla’s plans didn’t die with her daughter.”

Naida looked at the roots of the yew tree that cradled her. Then she pushed herself to her feet and began to move away. “Walk with me.”

Carys stood and caught up with Naida, passed out from the shadows of the trees and into the grazing land on the edge of Dafydd’s property.

“The trees listen and gossip like the elders they are.” Naida looked at Carys. “What are you asking me?”

“Orla and Cian are planning something, and the Crow Mother is involved somehow. Either way, Dafydd and Harold are convinced that Orla is willing to break the Queens’ Pact. They want more power.”

“That sounds terrible.” Naida was speaking the truth. Her expression was grim. “Truly, that would be… terrible. Cian is powerful enough.”

“So help us try to stop them.”

“And what would you give me in return?”

Carys sighed. “I don’t know.”

Naida stared at the forest. “Tell me, who is us ?”

“A company of seven—magical and human—who value peace.” Carys held out her hand. “I think you value peace too. We have humans, dragons, wolves. But no fae. And I think that’s a mistake.”

She smiled. “You think I can be trusted?”

“You’re ellyllon.”

“Ah.” Naida smiled, and her dimples popped out. “We’re little wild fae, aren’t we? Sweet and harmless. Not a threat to anyone. Not ambitious like the others.”

“I don’t think you’re harmless in the least,” Carys clarified. “But I do think you love peace. Am I right?”

Naida looked into the distance. “All wild fae value peace. We just want to live our lives and take care of the land.”

“So help us. And I will owe you a favor.”

“That is very vague, Carys Morgan.”

“It’s the best I can do right now.”

“I might consider it, but not by myself.”

She frowned. “I told you, there are seven of us who?—”

“And if I joined you, it would be eight.” Naida shook her head. “Eight is an unlucky number. The old gods wouldn’t be happy.”

Carys and Cadell. Lachlan and Duncan. Laura and Winnie and Godrik. She couldn’t think of anyone who could drop out and not be missed. “Is eight really that bad?”

Naida grimaced. “Oh yes.”

Carys hadn’t thought about eight being unlucky, but maybe for the fae of Briton it was. If they were in Asia, eight would be the perfect number. Either way, she’d learned to be cautious around unfamiliar magic.

“But nine,” Naida continued. “Nine is very lucky.”

“Absolutely not.” Lachlan was adamant. “We’re trying to avoid a war, not start one.”

“Do you have any idea who he really is?” Duncan’s voice was a thunderstorm. “Do you have any idea?—”

“Yes!” Carys put a hand on Duncan’s shoulder, which was positively vibrating. “I know. Or I know what Naida told me.”

Carys and Laura were in the kitchen garden outside Dafydd’s house the following morning, and Carys was cutting rosemary because she couldn’t stop thinking about the smell. Duncan’s soap smelled like rosemary.

Lachlan was as worried as Duncan was even if he wasn’t as explosive. “It’s not that I don’t have an… affection for Dru, but you have to know that bringing him in adds a layer of fae politics to this matter that we were hoping to avoid.”

Laura sat back on her heels and squinted up at the two men. “But fae politics is at the heart of all this. I’ll bet you some of Carys’s coffee that’s exactly where the smoke takes me when I do this ceremony.”

Laura had agreed to do a reading from her rune stones and was cutting sage for the cleansing ceremony while Cadell was at the international market downriver, searching for tobacco and sweetgrass. Laura had already gathered cedar from Dafydd’s woods.

“Cian is the closest thing to a fae king that there is in Briton.” Duncan sat on a low brick wall that bordered the kitchen garden beds. “And he’s the consort to the éiren throne. He’s been building his power for over a century now, and he will go to war to keep Dru from taking his crown.”

Lachlan was pacing. “Whatever Orla may be up to, the last thing anyone in Briton wants is to spark a fae civil war. The last one killed half the human population of Briton.”

Laura blinked. “Seriously?”

Lachlan nodded. “Seriously.”

“But according to Naida, Dru doesn’t want the crown,” Carys said. “And he’s not here to take it.”

“No, he’s here because he’s in love with Naida,” Duncan said. “But that doesn’t mean Cian will see it that way, particularly if Dru’s presence becomes known more widely.”

“He needs to go back.” Duncan looked at his brother. “I’ll tell him. It was foolish of me to ask him to come. If I had known?—”

“You can do that,” Carys said. “But if you do, any help from Naida is out. She says we need him if we want to counter whatever Orla and Cian are planning.”

“Of course Naida says that,” Lachlan paused in his pacing and glared. “She’s in love with him as much as he’s in love with her. And she feels guilty because she’s the reason the fae of Briton have no king but an éiren consort more concerned with his power than his people.”

Laura stood up and stuffed her herbs in the wicker basket she was carrying. “Okay, maybe all of you have this backstory, but I do not. Explain or I’m out.”

Lachlan looked at Duncan, and some wordless communication passed between them before Duncan shrugged and started talking.

“Cian and Dru—Diarmuid is his proper name—are brothers, the children of the light fae Queen Aine who ruled over all the fae of Briton for centuries,” Duncan said. “She was the one who returned the fae to peace after their last war.”

Lachlan continued, “Aine had two sons. Cian was the oldest and the son of the old god Elatha, who came from the Fomorians.”

“In Irish mythology, Fomorians are kind of…” Carys squinted. “Not gods but god adjacent if that makes sense.”

“The Fomorians were monsters,” Lachlan said. “But Aine took a step toward peace when she had a child with Elatha, who was seen as one of the more… peaceful of the Fomorians.”

Duncan said, “And Cian was raised as Aine’s heir until the queen fell in love with Lir.”

“The sea god?” Carys asked. “So Aine married Lir after being Elatha’s lover?”

“Aine never married either of them,” Lachlan said. “The old gods never stay in one place long enough to rule anything. They keep to their own faithful, and they honestly don’t have followers here the way they used to. When was the last time you saw fires lit for Lugh at daybreak or grain offerings to Cernunnos?”

Duncan said, “Most humans in the Shadowlands know that magic exists, but they’re also modern people. They honor the Tamis because it’s tradition, but they don’t think much of the old gods anymore. That’s why their power has waned.”

“Other than a few cults like Epona or Sulis, they’re not really worshipped anymore.”

“Followers like Epona’s daughters.” Carys looked at Laura. “We think my mother’s Shadowkin might have belonged to Epona’s cult.” Or actually her mother. But Carys wasn’t saying that out loud yet.

“So Aine falls in love with Lir,” Duncan continued, “and from all accounts, Lir loves Aine equally. Dru is Lir’s son, and he immediately became his mother’s favorite.”

“Ah.” Laura nodded. “Suddenly it’s not so clear who will become the next fae ruler.”

Duncan pointed at her. “Exactly.”

Carys stood and put her rosemary into Laura’s basket. “Where does Naida come into all this?”

Duncan continued with the story. “Aine becomes tired of the throne, and according to fae stories, she goes to the sea to live with Lir, leaving her sons to rule the fae of éire and Briton. The dark fae will remain the keepers of the fae gates while the light fae remain in power in Temris, ruling the courts, the wild fae and interacting with the other races.”

Lachlan took up the narrative. “The two brothers agree that since Cian is the eldest, he will marry Orla, officially uniting the fae and the éiren royal houses.”

Duncan said, “And Cian will pluck the finest soul placed at the gate to be Orla’s daughter, and eventually that daughter would become Dru’s wife.”

“Oh, that is so messed up,” Carys muttered. “Can you imagine picking your own sister-in-law and raising her as your daughter before you hand her over to your brother?”

“Who you don’t really like much,” Duncan added.

Laura asked, “And Dru was okay with this?”

“Dru isn’t ambitious,” Duncan said.

“It sounds like it was a compromise,” Carys said. “One they could both live with.”

“Exactly.” Duncan looked directly at Lachlan. “Most political marriages are.”

Lachlan ignored his brother’s pointed look. “And remember, fae don’t have morals the way humans do.”

“That is very clear,” Laura whispered.

“Orla is well over a hundred years old,” Lachlan said. “Her Brightkin is long dead, but she still looks like a thirty-year-old woman. But she is mortal. Eventually Orla will die, but as long as Dru married her daughter, her line would continue.”

“Which daughter?” Carys asked. One of Orla’s daughters was married to King Dafydd. “I mean, Eamer looks good for her age, but she’s definitely older than thirty.”

“Finola is Orla’s eldest daughter. She’s the heir to the throne, and she’s the one Dru was supposed to marry,” Duncan said. “Except…”

“Naida.” Lachlan shrugged.

“Dru was supposed to marry Finola, but he fell in love with Naida?” Laura shook her head. “So messy. Can you imagine if they made this into a reality show, Carys? The Unreal Housewives of the Light Fae Court ?”

“Naida is ellyllon.” Lachlan got the discussion back on track. “They’re elder fae. Not a touch of Fomorian blood. They’re respected but seen as weaker. The high fae would never accept a prince marrying an ellyllon and messing up Cian and Orla’s carefully built power structure.”

“So instead of marrying Finola for political reasons,” Duncan said, “Dru left. He told his brother to fuck off and left for the Brightlands.”

“And Naida didn’t go with him?” Laura asked.

Lachlan shook his head. “Naida will never live in the Brightlands. Her people are doubly sensitive to iron. She’d wither and die there.”

Duncan said, “But Dru was determined. If he couldn’t have Naida, he didn’t want anything to do with any of them.”

Lachlan said, “So Finola married another fae consort so she wouldn’t age, but rumors say she’s still bitter about the whole thing.”

“And now Naida is saying that Dru has to be a part of” —Duncan waved his hands— “whatever it is we’re doing to keep the peace in Briton and keep the Queens’ Pact alive.”

“Except Dru being involved is more likely to disrupt the peace.” Laura wrinkled her nose. “I have to say I’m seeing their point, Carys.”

Lachlan turned sad eyes on Carys. “It’s not that we don’t sympathize,” he said. “I know what it’s like to feel like your relationship is doomed, but Carys…”

Carys crossed her arms over her chest. “What?”

“It really is doomed.” Lachlan kept his voice low.

“If Dru claims the crown,” Duncan said, “which Cian knows he could do, there would be war among the fae. The reason Dru left for the Brightlands was because he wanted to avoid that.”

“Would Dru be a better fae ruler than Cian?” Carys looked between Duncan and Lachlan.

Lachlan nodded. “Probably.”

“But is Cian so bad that it’s worth starting a war?” Duncan shrugged. “That’s the real question.”

“Agreed,” Lachlan said. “Having Dru helping us will make Cian think that the humans of Briton are siding with Dru against him.”

“Whatever he and Orla might be planning, it would jump-start it, not stop it,” Duncan said.

Lachlan continued, “We must leave Dru out of this if we’re trying for peace.”

Carys felt her cheeks heating. “But Naida won’t help us without Dru.”

“So we leave Naida out of it,” Lachlan said. “We don’t need her.”

“What other fae do you trust?” Carys looked at Duncan.

Duncan shook his head. “No one.”

She looked at Lachlan. “You?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t trust Dru , and I don’t know why you would.”

“I don’t trust him,” Carys said. “But I trust Naida, and Naida wants him. That’s the point.”

Laura frowned. “Are the fae that devious here? I’m suddenly feeling very thankful for the Kheta Inwe.”

“You two think we can actually find out what is going on with Orla and Cian without any fae help?” Carys looked between the two men again. “We don’t think the way they do. We don’t understand their magic and the extent of it. If we want to know what the fae are planning, we need to know what they want, what they can do, and what this offering to the Crow Mother might be.”

Lachlan sighed. “Fine. We need fae knowledge. But not Naida and Dru.”

Laura nodded. “Okay, so who do you two suggest?”

Neither Duncan nor Lachlan spoke.

“Helpful,” Laura said. “So helpful. That’s amazing.”

Carys grimaced and grabbed the basket from Laura’s hands. “Naida is the only fae that either Cadell or I trust.” She and Laura started toward the kitchen. “And Naida wants Dru to help. If you two brilliant strategists come up with a better idea, feel free to let us know.”

Laura cleared a space in the center of Dafydd’s garden after Cadell returned, burning the four sacred herbs in an earthenware bowl placed on the bare ground. She wafted the smoke over stones etched with ancient symbols from various parts of North America.

The song Laura sang was in Yurok, but the symbols on the runes were used across the Pacific Northwest. The scent of tobacco, sage, sweetgrass, and cedar were all familiar; however, the song Laura sang under her breath was not for Carys’s ears, so she tried to keep her distance.

Cadell stood at Carys’s shoulder in human form. “What is she doing?”

“I suspect she’s trying to connect with the magic here.”

Laura held the stones in one hand and dug her hands into the earth with the other.

Cadell frowned. “She is Brightkin.”

“She is.” Carys nodded. “But she has a formal role in Pauwau Aki, which means she has trained in magic. It’s not as powerful as her Shadowkin’s magic, but she can connect.”

“Maybe that’s part of your magic as well,” Cadell said. “You were raised in a place where the border between the two worlds is more permeable.”

Carys nodded. “Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that.”

Laura’s voice rose, and her face lit with a bright smile. She leaned down and spoke to the ground she was sitting on, pressing her forehead to the earth.

“She’s a striking woman,” Cadell said.

You can say she’s beautiful. Carys spoke to his mind. She’s my best friend, but you’re my dragon.

“ Beautiful is far too common a word to use for her.” Cadell kept his eyes on Laura.

Laura gently tossed the stones on the ground, then took the bowl where her herbs were burning and blew gently, coaxing more smoke from them as she murmured over her stones and the earth.

Carys saw the stones begin to move slowly, rolling over the ground and rearranging themselves in a distinct pattern. Laura watched them and glanced between the stones and the smoke.

After a few moments, she stood and looked at Carys and Cadell. “We need to follow the smoke.”

Laura left her stones on the ground and picked up the earthen bowl, carrying it in front of her and singing under her breath.

The smoke rose and lifted into the air, seemingly impervious to the gusts of wind that moved the trees as they walked through the back garden, through the kitchen garden, and around the side of the house.

Carys tried not to wince as she watched Laura’s bare feet sink into the cold, sticky mud on the edge of the garden.

“Her feet must be freezing,” Cadell said. “I will make sure warming blankets are gathered after her ritual.”

They walked toward the courtyard where soldiers were drilling and dragons rested in beast form like a fleet of fighter jets waiting for orders.

Cadell and Carys followed at a short distance, and Carys kept her eyes on Laura, whose eyes were locked on the smoke that traveled through the wind.

As they entered the courtyard, Cadell barked something in Cymric and the soldiers who’d been drilling scattered.

There was a low thrumming sound as the dragons surrounding the house tuned into the energy floating through the air. Carys had heard the sound a few times before, most notably when Cadell was greeted by the dragons from the Chahta nation who had come to help train her in California.

Dragon vocalizations weren’t often the roar they emitted when they were angry or belching fire. There was a deep vibrating noise they made when they recognized each other that nearly sounded like a large feline purr.

If your cat was a terrifying aerial raptor with a wingspan nearly as large as a jumbo jet.

Cadell was in human form, but clearly the dragons in the courtyard understood what he was saying because they rose on their back legs and spread their wings, blocking some of the wind as their keen golden eyes detected the magic and the smoke.

The air around Carys grew still and the smoke curled upward, spinning in the familiar glyph of an intricate spiral as it gathered over the fae mound where Naida had taken Dru to heal. The smoke spun and twisted, circling and circling until it broke into the familiar Celtic triple spiral that Carys had seen on megalithic structures as old as any in Briton.

The glyph formed over the mound, glowing in the fading, pearlescent light and circling gently over the fairy hill that grew thick with grass before her eyes.

The thrumming sound from the dragons grew louder, and beyond the courtyard, Carys saw Duncan and Lachlan run out of the stables, jolting to a dead stop when they saw the triple spiral hanging over the fae mound.

Laura lowered the bowl with the burning herbs and walked toward Carys and Cadell. “I asked the magic in this place to show me the key to bringing things back into balance.” She lifted an open hand. “And this is where the smoke led.”

Cadell nodded. “Then the earth has answered.”

Carys watched the slowly turning triple spiral that showed no signs of drifting or dissolving even while the wind picked up. “I’m going to have to agree with the dragon.”

Laura turned and faced Duncan and Lachlan on the far side of the fae mound. “I know you two may not like this answer, but I think it’s pretty clear that whatever it is we need to do to keep the peace here, Dru and Naida are going to be a part of it.”