Page 36 of The Shadow Path (Shadowlands #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

T hree days later, King Harold of London and Crown Princess Finola of éire reaffirmed the Queens’ Pact on the top of Lud’s Hill with cheering crowds from across London celebrating the return of good weather, healthy animals, and the Great Serpent, who had reappeared in the Tamis two days before.

The river was filled with flower wreaths, offerings of food, and floating lanterns to celebrate the great snake’s return.

Milk was set out on every hearth, and flowers and ribbons hung from the branches of every tree in the forests that dotted the city.

King Harold had declared a week of celebration and unity to commemorate the lost and give thanks to the gods and the Great Serpent for securing peace.

Carys, Laura, and Duncan walked along the river on Oswulf’s Way, the large green embankment that bordered the Tamis where wild river sprites danced in the reeds, the occasional mermin peeked out to watch the brightly dressed humans, and otters were back to play in the verge.

The people of London had filled the green space, and Carys in her leather dragon armor was thanked by nearly every Londoner she passed.

Even the trolls.

“You’re a hero here,” Duncan said. He still had a long dagger at his waist, but he’d left his sword at Dafydd’s castle. “You sure you want to go back to the Brightlands?”

“Ha!” Carys looked at the grey sky overhead. Even with the raucous celebrations happening across the city, the brightest the Shadowlands got was a milky-white sky. “I need some sunshine.”

“So not London then,” Duncan said. “Or Scone.”

“Or Baywood for that matter,” Laura added. “It’s June Gloom time back home.”

“June Gloom?” Duncan asked. “What, the sky you mean?”

“Yeah, it’s a thing by the coast from the ocean fog,” Laura said. “May Grey. June Gloom.”

“No-Sky July,” Carys added. “ Fog ust.”

Duncan frowned. “Wait, is the weather in Baywood worse than Scotland? I didn’t think that was possible. You’re in California, for goodness’ sake.”

“It’s a big state,” Laura said, “with a lot of cold ocean.”

A pair of brightly clad children ran past them, nearly causing Carys to trip. They giggled and raced through the crowds on the river walk as their father shouted at them to “apologize to the dragon lady, for Tamis’s sake.”

Carys squinted at them as they disappeared into the trees. “Were those kids wearing Spider-Man shirts?”

“One was Deadpool, I think.”

“Ah, the troll markets are back in business,” Duncan said. “The Shadowlands are healing.”

Carys felt a bubble of happiness in her chest.

The Shadowlands—at least in Anglia— were healing.

She and Cadell had flown over the southern counties yesterday. Saris Plain was green again, the water had drained away, and grass grew over the hills where the earth had covered the remains of monsters and enfolded the bodies of the humans and fae who had died.

Flowers had burst from the ground, waving in the breeze as wild horses and unicorns returned to the stone circles and barrow lands.

The fae mounds that had sprouted up across Southern Anglia had not receded, but the sheep grazed over the grass, and sprites and birds rested in the branches of the shrubs and hedges that grew around them.

Though Anglian lives had been lost, with the affirmation of the pact, greater war had been averted, and the new fae king, the first true fae leader in centuries, had retreated to the subterranean halls of Temris to bring the fae of Briton under his command.

Queen Orla of éire, after over one hundred years of life and decades married to a fae consort, was quickly fading with the death of Prince Cian.

Whispers and rumors said that within months, Princess Finola would be queen.

Laura must have been thinking along the same lines as Carys. “I think Finola will be a good ruler,” she said quietly. “I was impressed by her speech with Harold.”

The young ruler and the crown princess had both addressed the crowds on Lud’s Hill, surrounded by éiren knights, wild fae ambassadors, and Anglian wolves.

“I agree,” Duncan said. “She’s learned from her mother. Her fae consort is much weaker than Cian. According to Lachlan, he’s a follower and has no desire to lead.”

Carys hadn’t seen or spoken to Lachlan since the ceremony on Lud’s Hill, though she knew he was still deep in talks with Harold, Finola, and Dafydd about the future of Briton.

“Have you heard from Dru?” Laura asked Duncan.

“No.” Duncan shook his head. “I don’t know what’ll happen to his pub now that he has to go and be king and all, but that’s not my problem to solve.”

Carys’s mind went to Naida, but no one had seen the ellyllon for days.

Whatever happened between Naida and Dru, Carys had to take Duncan’s attitude as her own.

It was not her problem to solve.

Nêrys . Cadell was soaring overhead, circling down slowly as humans shouted and ran from the center of the meadow. The dragon gently landed and transformed, walking toward Carys, Laura, and Duncan in human form as scattered humans around him pointed and more than a few clapped.

“Oh, he hates that,” Laura muttered.

Cadell’s cheeks were ruddy by the time he reached them, and Carys didn’t think it was from the wind.

“Hello, Hero Dragon,” Carys said loudly.

“Stop.” He linked his hands behind his back and joined them as they walked, trying to seem inconspicuous, which was nearly impossible for a seven-foot dragon in human form wearing dark green leather armor.

Despite the beautiful day, Cadell’s face was grim.

Carys knew immediately where he’d been that morning. “So you had the meeting with Finola?”

“Yes.”

Carys walked next to her dragon, and she didn’t say a word. If Cadell wanted to tell her more, he would. But she wasn’t going to ask.

“I share her grief over the loss of éiren life,” Cadell said quietly. “It was… necessary but regrettable.”

Laura slipped her arm under his. “Their deaths prevented greater bloodshed. If you hadn’t broken the enchantment, there might have been war.”

You have to believe her, Carys spoke to his mind. She’s right.

Cadell glanced at her, nodded, but said nothing.

The dragon would be forced to live with the death of twelve éiren cavalry commanders and their mounts. As would Carys. It had been her plan to begin with. It had stopped the war, but it had come at a price.

Cadell had wanted to face Princess Finola and offer his apologies in person.

He said, “I have offered blood price to their families from the horde, but Finola would not accept.”

Duncan’s voice was solemn. “She knows the deaths were unavoidable, Cadell.”

He nodded but said nothing else.

They continued along Oswulf’s Embankment, but though the humans and magical folk of London celebrated, Carys, Cadell, Duncan, and Laura walked in silence.

Peace had come, but peace always came with a price.

Dafydd found Carys in the library that night, reading by the fire. He sat across from her, and she set down the book she was reading by fae lantern.

“Hey.” She smiled. “How’s Harold?”

“The young man is rising to the occasion,” her uncle said. “Your aunt would approve.”

Carys could tell that Dafydd was missing his wife. “How’s Eamer feeling about her mother?”

“She has flown to áth Cliath—that’s Dublin in your world—to be with her. Queen Orla was removed from Temris to áth Cliath when King Diarmuid appeared.”

“How is that going?” The new king of the fae would have to create a new relationship with the humans of éire now that his brother was no longer the prince consort.

“It appears that King Diarmuid has his hands full bringing the light fae court under his rule,” Dafydd said. “I don’t think he has much time for human queens. Even those once married to his brother.”

“So that’s… a good thing?”

Dafydd smiled sadly. “Orla will be dead within months without Cian keeping her alive.”

“So the children were all?—”

“You said once that the Crow Mother mentioned a sacrifice,” Dafydd said. “It is possible that Orla thought a very ancient fae might want children as that sacrifice.”

And the Crow Mother wasn’t even fae. Carys wondered if Orla had known.

“So twisted.” Carys flashed back to her last meeting with the Crow Mother in the Shadowlands. She was a very different woman than the nubile goddess who had become Macha in the Brightlands.

“The queen will bring me her offering, and then everything will fall into place.”

“What offering?”

“I take offerings of all kinds. Magic. Blood. Babies.”

“You might be right,” Carys said. “Thank God all the children were recovered.” She leaned forward. “Right? All of them were recovered from the fae?”

“Every one,” Dafydd said. “I promise. The only blood spilled was the blood on Saris Plain. All the children are fine.”

Carys sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. The only blood spilled was the blood on Saris Plain. And despite Rhiannon’s warning, they had averted a greater war.

The only blood spilled was on Saris Plain.

Carys blinked. Threads of memory began to weave together.

“The queen will bring me her offering… Magic, blood, babies.”

She sat up straight in her chair. Magic. Blood.

Forget the babies.

Magic and blood.

Magic. And blood.

Dafydd looked at her. “Carys?”

“You don’t get your average Londoner offering sacrifices to the river anymore.”

“Fae are not gods. Even though they may act it at times.”

Carys set her book on the table in front of her. “The fae are not gods.”

Dafydd shook his head. “Of course they’re not.”

“But the gods are gods.” Carys returned to a black circle in the woods as blue and green lights danced over the Great Serpent of London and a fae prince talked to an old, old goddess.

“Depart from this place and cease your meddling, Old One. Your time has passed.”

“My time is reborn as I am.”

A beggar prince hiding in a darkened alley, grabbing Carys before the Crow Mother could steal away.

“I do wonder what you’re about.”

“You’ll find out in time, and it’s no trouble for you or your kind. In fact, it might just be to your benefit.”

A bright fae prince, allied to a queen, searching for power that he thought he’d lost.

“…anyone strong enough to hold the Saris Plain must be the chosen of the gods… A place of worship, offering, and sacrifice.”

Offering and sacrifice.

Carys looked at Dafydd, and a knot began to form in her stomach. “Cian wanted to rebuild Old Saris because it’s a place of power in every world. Naida said so. That’s where Stonehenge is in our world, and there are stone circles there in the Shadowlands.”

“Yes,” Dafydd said. “Humans have never built there because it was a place to offer…”

Carys saw the moment the realization struck Dafydd too.

“It was a place of offering,” Carys said. “The children were never the sacrifice, Dafydd. The children were just a distraction.”

As Carys rushed from the library, searching for Duncan and Laura, she flashed back to her last memory of a goddess, but it wasn’t the Crow Mother or Macha or any of the forms that the Morrigan, the goddess of war and bloodshed, had taken with her.

She remembered a goddess on horseback.

A goddess whispering in her mind.

A goddess her mother had worshipped and who had tried to warn her.

“You were wondering why the fae prince came to this place. You were wondering just why Aine’s son chose Saris Plain.”

“Duncan!” She shouted for him. “Laura?” She ran through the halls of Dafydd’s mansion, searching for her friends. “Cadell!”

Duncan found her first. He walked up the stairs and ran to her. “What’s wrong?”

“We have to get back to the Brightlands.” Her heart was racing. “I think something is really wrong.”

Laura and Cadell found them next.

“Nêrys?”

“What’s up?” Laura’s face was red as she walked toward Carys. “You sound panicked.”

“We have to get back to the Brightlands. Now.”

Duncan and Cadell exchanged a look.

Nêrys—

“Carys, what is going on?” Duncan asked. “You want to go back to London tonight?”

“We can always come back if we need to, but I think something is happening. I don’t think all this was because of Cian— I mean, some of it was because of Cian and Dru, but the Crow Mother?—”

“The Morrigan.” Cadell spat out her name.

“Rhiannon tried to warn me.” She grabbed Cadell’s arm. “She told me not to spill blood on Saris Plain.”

“We stopped the battle,” Duncan said. “You and Cadell?—”

“We stopped the battle.” Carys turned to Duncan. “But blood was still spilled. A lot of blood. A lot of powerful, magical blood.”

Laura’s eyes went wide. “So much blood that a giant snake managed to swim all the way to Stonehenge to eat an army of monsters.”

“ That was the sacrifice,” Duncan said. “The fae and Fomorian blood spilled in battle.”

“That was the offering the Crow Mother wanted from Queen Orla.” Cadell put his hand on her shoulder. “Nêrys, pack your bags. Pack whatever you want to take back to the Brightlands. You’re right—we need to go now.”

“Give me ten minutes,” Laura said. “I’ll be ready.”

“I’ll send a message to Lachlan,” Duncan said. “Tell him what we think is going on.”

Carys ran to her room and started to pack. Her heart was pounding out of her chest as she heard Rhiannon’s words over and over again in her head.

“More than just the fae prince waits. More than Elatha’s son is hungry for power. You must not let them spill blood on Saris Plain.”