Page 31

CHAPTER THIRTY

H arold, newly crowned king of Anglia, stood on Lud’s Hill, wearing his fur-trimmed coronation robes and a simple gold crown. His long face was drawn and pale, and the gold-rimmed spectacles he often hid during public addresses were not hidden that day.

He stood in front of the gathered citizens of London as they waited on the riverbank. Carys, Duncan, and Laura watched from the hill where they’d observed Harold’s coronation only two weeks before.

To Carys, it seemed like it was months had passed, not weeks.

Diarmuid mac Lir, dark prince of the fae and a frightening specter in black robes, stood beside Harold. On his head was a strange, twisted crown of blood-red coral, and his face was marked by deep blue sigils.

Beside the fae prince, Prince Lachlan of Alba stood in full, shining armor, his long hair tied back and his blue-and-white flag flying.

Dragons circled overhead, clutching war coracles loaded with Cymric soldiers waiting for battle on Saris Plain.

Along the sides of Lud’s Hill and up and down the river, lines of red-coated soldiers stood in formation while massive barges waited in the river to take them upstream, where Dru would open a fae gate that would take them to Saris Plain.

“People of London.” Harold’s voice was amplified by a mage standing next to him, holding a long staff. “Two weeks ago, I stood before you to claim my title as your king. Today I stand before you—my allies at my side—to claim the title of your protector.”

“He’s not going to mention the Great Serpent,” Duncan muttered.

“What can he say?” Laura asked. “Sorry the giant, terrifying supernatural snake that used to guard our city left? I’m sure it’s all cool though?”

“I know you have fear,” Harold continued. “I know you doubt that your families will be safe. But we know who we are, and we know who we fight for.”

A few in the crowd let out a muffled cheer, but an ominous quiet hung over most of the gathered humans and magical creatures of London.

The residents of London stretched out for miles along the riverbank. Some flags flew, but most of the faces who watched the new king were gaunt and worried.

Food had become scarce as crops rotted in the fields. Animals were dying, and pastures that had been bursting with grazing sheep only weeks before were nearly empty.

The only thing that had been feeding the city was the plentiful catch of fish from the river, and now with the Great Serpent gone, even that bounty seemed to be in danger.

“We live in a city where all are welcome,” Harold said in a louder voice. “Humans of Anglia. Fae and trolls. Dragons, unicorns, and wolves alike.” His voice grew louder still. “Visitors from distant shores are as welcome in London as the smallest sprite that lives on the river.”

Carys felt the mood in the crowd shift. In a city full of suspicion and fear, the king was smart to remind Londoners what their community was made of.

“The high fae of Temris stole our children because they wanted us to fear them and hate each other.”

A low murmur began to run through the crowd around Carys.

“They wanted to divide us,” Harold continued, “but we will not be divided. We will not turn on our neighbors.”

More murmuring as the mood lightened a little bit.

“Together” —Harold motioned to Dru, who stood in dark regalia to his right— “Prince Diarmuid, the wolf clans, and the dragons of Cymru found every missing child.”

Finally a scattered cheer rippled thought the crowd. And if anyone noticed that the unicorns were absent from the retrieval efforts, they didn’t mention it.

Harold kept his voice even and firm. “ Every missing child that was taken by the fae has been returned to their family.”

The crowd clapped louder, and a bit of the dark cloud that hung over the city seemed to lift.

Harold looked to his left where a rocky-faced troll and a bent-over brownie with silver-grey hair had joined him.

“The magical population of London has put their powerful wards over our homes and our schools,” he said. “Brownies and hobs have protected our children and our elders. Trolls have kept our markets alive and helped our farmers fight the plagues that the high fae have sent to weaken us.”

Cheering died down, and the crowd began to mutter again.

Harold shouted, “But we expected nothing less!”

The crowd went silent.

Carys heard Cadell in her mind. The king is a better orator than his father.

“We expected nothing less,” Harold continued, “because while I may be king of the humans of London” —his voice rose— “every sprite or fae, every troll, gnome, hob, or mermin who lives in this place is part of my city. Our city. Our home!”

The crowd let out a hearty cheer, and red-striped flags waved.

“We are London,” Harold said simply. “I am your king. Our allies are with us. We will not bow to fear.”

The cheering grew louder, and Carys heard some horns blowing in the distance.

“We will not be intimidated.” Harold—spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose—seemed to grow taller. His face glowed with purpose. “We did not ask for this fight,” he said. “We want only to live in peace, trade with our neighbors, and raise our children.”

Carys felt the energy of the crowd gather and coalesce around the field of soldiers who were standing in formation between the king and the river.

“But we will defend our home from any who attack it!”

Horns blasted, and the formations of soldiers clapped their bronze swords against their shields.

“We will defend our farms and our markets,” Harold shouted. “We will defend our rivers and valleys.”

Carys saw some of the trolls and magical creatures in the crowd nod in approval.

“We will not uproot our trees or dig up our barrows.”

Sprites flipped and turned overhead, zipping through the crowd and leaving trails of gold and silver in their wake.

“We are London,” Harold said. “We are Anglia. What we have built here is worth defending.” Horns blasting. Roaring cheers rising from the crowds. “And I will defend it.”

Carys stood at the front of one of the river barges as it moved upriver, the flat-bottomed boats propelled by magic and unseen creatures that had answered to Dru when he called.

Dru glanced at Carys, then overhead. “You’re not flying with your dragon?”

She and Lachlan stood on Dru’s right with Winnie on his left. “Despite my complete ignorance of most politics, I am currently the top-ranked Cymric official in Anglia.”

“Really?” Winnie leaned forward. “Where is Anwyn?”

“Flying to Saris Plain with Demelza.”

“And Dylan?”

Lachlan answered, “He’s coordinating with my father in Alba.”

Winnie blinked. “Oh, so you really are it.”

She didn’t have to sound quite that disappointed. Carys still had a dragon.

That dragon was simply flying ahead of her because he would not be going through a suspicious fae gate opened by a wandering fae prince who was reluctantly helping them.

And he wasn’t exactly thrilled that Carys was going through it either, but she had orders from Dafydd.

Carys turned to face the front of the barge as it headed up the foggy Tamis. They were accompanied by Winnie’s personal guard of sixty soldiers along with horses for Winnie, Dru, Carys, and Lachlan.

The rest of the massive barge was filled with the wild fae that had aligned with Dru over the past week.

There were fae of every size and shape riding on the barge. Tall creatures who looked more like trees than people. Flying sprites that buzzed overhead and squat creatures who looked more like rocks or tree stumps than anything human.

There were fae that reminded Carys of ellyllon and others that were tall and graceful. There were fae with wings and some with hands that looked more like roots.

A few wore their hair in long braids, and some had no hair at all.

And all through the river, beside them and below them, she could feel magic. Mermin and serpents. Otters and selkies. Carys even thought she’d spotted what looked like a kelpie on the edge of the fog.

It was a hodgepodge of an army, but Carys hoped they had more magic than it looked like. She’d seen pictures in Dafydd’s library of fae armies, and they looked terrifying.

The drifting scent of rotting carcasses told her they were heading deeper into Anglian farm country where there weren’t as many dragons to burn the animals that had died.

Dozens of barges filled with Anglian troops moved silently behind them.

“Where is the fae gate?” Lachlan asked Dru.

“Just up ahead.”

“And why is it on the river?” Winnie asked. “I’ve never been through a river gate before. Does it go from water to water? Is that how it works? Or are we going to end up stuck in the middle of a forest somewhere, standing on a bunch of boats?”

Dru cracked a smile, his gleaming teeth contrasting with the blue sigils that grew darker and darker the farther they moved up the river. “You are amusing, Lady Wynnflad,” he said. “My power is greatest on the water. The gate that I have created will take us to the Saris Avon. From there your soldiers will only have a few miles to march.”

“Good. Do you have any sense where your brother is?” she asked.

“Not right now.” Dru’s eyes narrowed on a fogbank that appeared before them. “But soon.”

Carys turned and stared into the fog. Cadell, we’re going in .

I still don’t like this.

You could always shift and ? —

No.

Carys smiled despite the grim atmosphere of the morning. Is King Harold in the air?

He is in the war coracle with Lady Anwyn.

Good.

The surly human is with me. He complains constantly. Is he always going to be like this?

Might not be as bad once we’re out of mortal danger.

Carys saw the fog grow so dense it was as if they were walking into a wall of clouds. Lights flashed behind the dense mist, and Dru began to sing a low song as the barge silently approached.

Lachlan leaned down to her. “If anything goes wrong, stay close to me.”

She glanced up. “You still think he’s trying to trick us?”

“No. But Cian is powerful and smart. And no one can anticipate you more than a sibling.”

Carys nodded and scooted closer to Lachlan. “Do you think this fog is freaking out your soldiers?”

“I think it’s?—”

The fog closed around them, and Carys’s world went white.

There were whispers in the distance, slithering sounds and childish laughter.

Something rustled in the long grasses on the banks of what might have been a river or a plain. The lapping water that had pushed against the barge was silent, and all sound seemed to soak into the dense cloud around them.

Carys stared ahead. She knew fog, but this was something far more than natural. “You think it’s what?” The only thing she could hear over the rustling grass was the sound of Dru’s voice singing a low, droning chant. “Lachlan?”

Carys looked over her shoulder and saw that the line of soldiers directly behind her were frozen in a trance, their eyes wide, unblinking, and locked on something in the distance that Carys couldn’t perceive.

She turned and saw Lachlan in the same state, and her heart began to race.

“Goddess-touched.”

Carys turned her head and saw Dru surrounded by the fog, a smile flirting around his lips as the fae on the barge examined her with curious eyes.

Carys tore her attention from the crowd. “What?”

“If I hadn’t known before, I’d know now.” Dru walked over and touched Lachlan’s forehead with his finger. “Fae-touched. Your prince has magic. He can access the earth and the air. That’s what makes him so charming and so musical.” He turned to Winnie. “Fae-touched. She never misses with her bow. The trees speak to her, and she’s more at home in the forest than the castle.”

He turned back to Carys and reached out, running soft fingers along her cheek. “Goddess-touched. No wonder you can speak with dragons. My magic works on you, but only a little. I should have known the first night I met you in the pub. You truly are Epona’s daughter.”

A moment later, the world around her came alive. It was as if everything had been muted and then it wasn’t.

“—hard to know how they’re feeling,” Lachlan muttered. “The unknown is usually more frightening than the reality.”

She blinked, and Lachlan caught her stare.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She didn’t want to explain Dru’s words. She couldn’t explain them yet.

The fog lifted and the slow, wide river they’d been traveling along was gone. Instead, a narrow, grassy waterway with dense reeds and overhanging trees surrounded them.

The fae with them started whispering and fluttering their wings. Branches cracked and boughs flexed as they moved off the barge, some flying and others climbing on the treelike creatures that had planted their feet into the shallow water and were lurching toward the bank.

The selkies and the mermin in the river drifted into the shadows or slipped below the surface as the second barge came through. Then one by one, each of the massive boats came to rest in the narrow Saris Avon.

“We’re here.” Dru motioned with his hand, and the barge floated to the riverbank where it bumped against the muddy ground and came to a stop. “Come. We still have miles to march.”

Riding over the grassy landscape of Southern Anglia was making Carys rethink her decision to stay. Even when their horses were unloaded and she was able to mount Leuca, the calm presence of the mare did little to soothe the anxiety in her blood.

She felt Cadell overhead—the dragon had quickly found her the moment she crossed the gate and was now flying overhead, communicating with her as he surveyed the landscape.

I see soldiers in the distance, but they’re far off. On the far side of the plain, coming up from the south.

“Cadell said there are soldiers coming up from the south.” Carys looked at Dru. “Cian is here.”

“Does he see fae or human armies?”

Cadell, are the soldiers fae or human?

They appear to be mostly human with fae commanders. Crown Princess Finola is leading the éiren army with Cian.

“Mostly human,” Carys said. “Fae in command, Finola leading the human army.”

“She did it,” Winnie muttered. “There goes the pact. Cian is with her?”

“Yes, she’s with Cian.”

Lachlan and Winnie both cursed as they began to climb the road that led from the river to the edge of the plain.

“The soldiers we’ll be fighting will be likely be éiren even if they are few in number,” Dru said. “Cian won’t want to waste fae lives if he thinks he can win with human soldiers and magic.”

Winnie’s face was grim. “That means we’ll be fighting against humans who are supposed to be our allies.”

“People we’ve trained with,” Lachlan said. “Cian and his fae started this war, but he’s using éiren people to fight his battles.”

Dru kept his eyes on the horizon. “The quickest way for us to win is by using the dragons, and he knows that.” He glanced at Carys. “But if we butcher the éiren armies, the Queens’ Pact will be well and truly dead. There will be no peace with that much blood spilled.”

“And the fighting in Briton will return.” Lachlan looked at Carys. “Would Anwyn order a dragon attack on éiren troops?”

Carys shook her head. “I have no idea. She might wait for orders from Dafydd.”

“And King Dafydd will want to preserve the Queens’ Pact if he can,” Lachlan said. “This should be a fae battle, not a human one.”

Dru shook his head. “I will try to reason with them, but I can make no guarantees.”

“ What’s your strategy, Dru?”

“I will send a messenger to Cian’s people.” Dru nodded at a large walking tree at the front of the company. “Alafair will tell Cian’s fae that I am asserting my claim to the throne of Temris and that they may choose to back me if they do not want to fight.”

Carys said, “So you’re going to just ask nicely for them to pick you as their king instead of Cian?”

“I have to try.” Dru surveyed the wild fae at the front of their company. “I am hoping that if Cian’s people see that the wild fae of Briton support me, they may decide it’s time for new leadership.”

Winnie was already thinking ahead. “I hope they take your deal, because Anwyn will order a dragon attack.”

Lachlan frowned. “Why are you so sure?”

“She’s pragmatic,” Winnie said.

“It’s pragmatic to kill humans who are supposed to be our allies?” Lachlan said. “It’s pragmatic to decimate an army we drilled with two weeks ago?”

“It’s pragmatic because a dragon attack will be decisive and will likely end this quickly,” Winnie said. “Think, Lachlan. The worst thing that could happen would be for this battle to turn into an extended war. That’s what happened last time, and it led to centuries of fighting and death. The Anglian people are already starving because of Cian’s plagues.”

“But there will be no peace with éire.” Lachlan’s voice rose. “And my kingdom, having the closest ties, will suffer the most. The éiren people are linked with Alba through blood and history. Alban troops will not want to fight against éiren soldiers.”

Winnie lifted her chin. “The éirens have allowed the fae to drag them into this. They’re not innocent.”

“They’re following their queen.”

“Who has handed over her authority to her fae consort! They took your children too.”

Carys knew there was a rift swiftly growing between Alba and Anglia.

“Have you ever seen war?” Eamer’s voice of caution whispered in her mind. “Do you know what happens when society breaks?”

Carys knew this was exactly the situation her aunt had been speaking about. Alliances were cracking. Loyalties were already being tested.

And innocent people were going to pay the price.

Carys heard Cadell in her head.

Anwyn will think about Cymric lives first, and a dragon attack is the fastest way to end this battle, he said. A dragon attack will keep Cian away from Cymru even if it leads to greater war with the other kingdoms in Briton.

Carys’s heart was racing when she turned to Dru. “We really need to convince Cian’s fae not to fight,” she said. “Because Cadell agrees with Winnie. Anwyn will absolutely order the dragons to attack.”

The deep blue sigils on Dru’s face pulsed with a dark light, and they almost seemed to move. “Alafair, go.”

As they crested the top of the hill, a sweeping, treeless plateau stretched before them.

In the center of the plain, there was a massive stone circle, twice as large as Stonehenge, as if giants had erected it. Beyond the plain on the other side of the shallow bowl, Carys saw the shadows of a tree line and a shimmering cloud of magic that hovered over a line of horse-mounted troops.

A wild fae as tall as an ash tree stepped onto the rolling green land. With each footfall, his rootlike legs broke open the ground, creating fissures as he walked. At his shoulders, two owls flew, and the ground closed behind him, leaving chalk-white scars across the landscape.

Carys spotted Cadell flying overhead, circling the plain with wide, arching sweeps of his wings, joined by two dozen dragons, both small and large, all carrying war coracles that were perfectly balanced to drop and release armed Cymric troops.

A shadowy figure rippled in the periphery of her vision, and Carys turned her head.

On a horse the size of a Clydesdale, Rhiannon sat silently, her finger pressed to her lips as a voice whispered in Carys’s ear.

You must not let them spill blood on Saris Plain.

She watched Alafair walking into the distance, and halfway across the plain, just to the side of the great stone circle, the fae halted and froze. Moments later, one of his owls circled overhead and turned back to Dru, swooping down to fly low over his head.

The animal must have communicated something to Dru, because Carys saw the tall fae freeze.

“What is it?” Lachlan asked. “What did he say?”

The red, twisted crown over Dru’s head glowed, and his voice was cold when he finally spoke. “Fomorians.”

The ancient race of giants and monsters was supposed to be a legend. Something out of even Shadowland nightmares. Monsters from beyond the sea.

Dru’s eyes were fixed on the army across the plateau. “My brother has brought the Fomorians to lead his army.”