Page 4 of The Shadow Path (Shadowlands #2)

CHAPTER THREE

L ess than twenty-four hours later, Carys was in a black car, riding though the rainy streets of London with Duncan sitting in the front and Cadell and Laura with her in the back.

She wasn’t sure how much their driver knew about anything because he was sent by Duncan’s mother, so she kept her voice low when she talked to Cadell.

“So” —she glanced at Laura— “what is London called?”

Cadell stared at her. “London.”

“No, in the other place.”

“London,” Cadell said. “London is London no matter what side of the shadow you fall on.”

“Really?”

Laura folded her hands and looked out the window. “It’s a very old city, and both Old English and Welsh people called it London. Or some variation close to that. Some people think it was founded by the Romans, but it’s older than that.”

Cadell’s eyes glowed. “You’ve done research into Briton.”

“I research every place I go,” Laura said. “I like to know things.”

Cadell nodded. “A truly admirable trait.”

Of all the humans that Cadell could get attached to, Carys could not think of a single one more unreceptive to male attention than Laura. It wasn’t that her friend didn’t like men, but she’d been burned.

And not by a dragon.

“Almost there.” Duncan rubbed his eyes. “Glad we didn’t arrive at rush hour.”

The streets were nearly deserted at three in the morning, but it had still taken over half an hour to drive from London City Airport to Duncan’s family home in Belgravia.

Carys had never been to London before, so she’d been disappointed that they were arriving in the middle of the night. However, once she saw the traffic at three a.m., she was more than happy to delay a city tour.

They crossed the River Thames, the wide black tributary that snaked through the old city, for the second time that night, and then they were driving on surface streets as rain spattered on the roof and dripped down windows to create a kaleidoscope from the colorful lights of the city at night.

Carys didn’t know what time it was, and she wasn’t even sure what day it was, so when they pulled up to a glowing white row of houses across from a neat park, the only thoughts in her head were: Feet up. Sleep. Food.

“Holy rich people’s houses, Batman,” Laura whispered. “I knew Duncan came from money, but holy shit.”

Cadell said, “The laird comes from great wealth on his father’s side, but his mother comes from even more. This is her home. She doesn’t enjoy Scotland.”

“Right.” Laura’s eyes were as wide as saucers when the door opened and the uniformed driver held his hand out for her to take.

They all hurried toward the door, which was opened before they could even reach the bell.

“Duncan.” A woman in a grey uniform held out her arms. “Come out of the rain. Quickly.”

All four of them entered the house, and before Carys knew what was happening, her coat was whisked away, her luggage had disappeared, and someone was ushering all of them into a cozy parlor where a fire was burning and a meal was set out to eat.

“Mr. Cadell.” The woman gestured toward a table near the fire. “The laird was quite specific about your diet.” She motioned to a platter containing a standing rib roast and nothing else. “I hope this meets your expectations.”

“Excellent.” Cadell sat at the table and immediately began devouring the roast before Carys and Laura could even sit down.

“Don’t wait for the ladies, dragon.” Duncan held Laura’s chair for her and waited for both of them to sit down. “God knows we don’t want you to start feeding on Mother’s spaniels.”

Carys sat down, but her head was swinging side to side.

She’d seen Duncan’s estate in Scotland, but though this house was smaller, the wealth on display was far more obvious.

There were no suits of armor, weapons on the walls, or plaid cushions. But there were graceful landscape paintings, china on the table, and oil portraits of various stoic ancestors staring down from shadowy corners.

“This is your mother’s house?” Laura asked. “So big money, right?”

Duncan nodded as he reached to uncover a silver tray. “Very big money. Her mother’s family has owned this house since the 1840s or something. My uncles also live in the neighborhood. All filthy rich.”

“But you live in Scotland?”

“I prefer it.” There was a dish with medallions of some poultry on the tray along with roasted potatoes and carrots. “I don’t like the formality here, but I can appreciate her cook.” He served Carys, then Laura. “Dig in; then we should get some sleep.”

Carys took a bite of the roasted bird, which was probably pheasant or goose or something very English. She didn’t care what it was—it was delicious, and she’d had no idea how ravenous she was until she took a bite.

“How long are we staying here?” Laura asked quietly. “And where do we find a gate?”

“I know a gate, and we should probably cross tomorrow.” He looked at Carys. “Your uncle is expecting you. You’ll be staying at his estate in London on the other side.”

Cadell lifted his head from his systematic destruction of the beef roast to say, “There’s a gate nearby. I can feel it.”

“Correct,” Duncan said. “In fact, there’s one within walking distance. Most of the gates in London are attached to rivers, and the old Cye Bourne is only a few blocks away.”

Cadell lifted his head. “The Cye Bourne? You don’t mean to take them under the Night Bridge, do you?”

“Knightsbridge?” Laura narrowed her eyes. “If this is Belgravia, that’s the neighborhood right next to us. South of Hyde Park?”

“Knightsbridge is the modern name,” Duncan said. “But in the Shadowlands, it’s not knight with a k . It’s called the Night Bridge because a market happens every night, and being right next to a fae gate, it’s a very… interesting market.”

“A market right next to a fae gate?” Laura asked. “Let me guess, not exactly legal, right?”

“Not in the slightest.” Cadell’s face was grim. “It’s a troll market, and at night humans are traded there like property. They also trade in wild fae and other magical creatures. Potion dealers. Black mages, and every sort of contraband from the Brightlands. Duncan, you cannot take them there. Do you want me to burn down a troll market and instigate war with Anglia?”

Carys raised a hand. “I’m going to say that’s a very bad idea right before a big fancy royal event, so maybe we find another place.”

“It’s the closest fae gate to the house,” Duncan said. “Believe it or not, it’s the easiest passage. Trust me, nothing is going to happen. One, we’ll be crossing over at dawn when the legal market sets up, and two, we have a guide.”

Cadell was still unhappy. “What kind of guide can get us safely through a troll market?”

Duncan glanced at Carys. “A familiar one.”

Carys slept like a log in a massive four-poster bed layered with the most luxurious bedding that had ever touched her body.

This. This was what separated the rich from the poor, she decided. This was why wealthy women in San Francisco always looked so well rested.

Okay, it was probably also Botox, but the sheets had to be part of the equation.

She sat up when she heard a tap on the door. “Yes?”

“I have a tea tray, Professor Morgan.”

Carys rubbed her eyes and jumped out of bed. She’d been hoping for coffee, but tea would do. At this point she wasn’t picky. She threw on a thick cotton robe and slid into a pair of lush slippers someone had set next to the bed, then walked over and opened the heavy wooden door.

A woman in a grey uniform was on the other side. “If you’d like me to wheel the tray in, I can set it up by the table.”

“I have a table?” Carys looked over her shoulder. “Oh, I have a table.”

There was a round table with four chairs sitting underneath a tall window that looked out over the garden. Carys could see ferns rising up beneath the dark wooden windowsill, and—shock of shocks—it was raining again.

“Thank you.” She opened the door wide, and the woman wheeled the tray in, the wheels almost silent on the thick Aubusson carpet.

There wasn’t only tea but also a tiered platter of fruit and pastries, and Carys’s mouth was already watering when she noticed the croissants.

The maid spread a white tablecloth, then went about setting the teapot and the plates on the table. “Full breakfast will be served in the morning room at ten, but the laird requested an early tea service for his guests since you all arrived so late last night.” She turned and smiled at Carys. “I imagine the jet lag is quite disorienting. If there’s anything else you need, please ask. My name is Rose.”

“I’m… honestly not sure what time it is.”

Rose looked at a neat watch with a black band on her wrist. “It’s eight thirty-two, miss.”

“Thank you.” She walked over and lifted the lid of the teapot to smell the familiar and happy scent of Lady Grey drifting up.

Duncan. He always knew what she would want. “This looks great, but will there be coffee at breakfast?”

“Of course.” Rose nodded. “I understand that Miss Thompson is in the adjoining room. Would you like me to wake her or allow her to sleep?”

“Uh…” Laura could be a bit of a bear when she woke up. Carys raised a hand to stop the maid. “Why don’t you let me do that? Might be safer.”

The maid nodded brusquely and walked toward the door. “If you have any other needs, please just ring the bell.” She pointed at a brass button over the light switch near the door.

“That’s actually a bell?”

Rose nodded. “Yes, miss. Please ring us if you need anything else.” A second later, the door was closed and Carys was alone again.

She walked to the door to the adjoining room and lightly tapped. “Laura?”

Carys heard shuffling, and then the door swung open.

“Why am I awake when the bed is literal heaven?” She wrinkled her face and sniffed. “Is that tea?” She sighed. “Carys, I need coffee. You know I need coffee.”

Carys gently led Laura toward the table. “I know, and there is going to be coffee with breakfast—I already checked. This is just a little bit of tea and some snacks so we don’t wake up hungry.”

Laura blinked at the stacks of fruit and pastries. “This is a snack?”

“Trust me, you’re going to want to eat as much as you can on this side because food isn’t quite the same on the other side.”

“Oh, I know that.” Laura sat in the chair, and Carys sat across from her. “There’s a reason I rarely eat salmon back home. Because any meal in the Shadowlands? Salmon. Roasted salmon. Smoked salmon. Salmon with greens. Raw salmon for festivals. Salmon soup. Salmon stew.”

“I love salmon, but that’s a lot.”

“You have no idea.” Laura bit into a croissant, and her eyes rolled back. “Oh my God.”

“That good?”

“The butter.” Laura devoured the pastry in three more bites. “You want me to eat, I’ll eat.”

“Good.” She glanced at the door. “I wonder who the mysterious guide is going to be?”

“Do we really need one?” Laura frowned. “Cadell is a dragon . We’ve all crossed over to the Shadowlands at other gates. Another guide seems unnecessary.”

“I don’t know, but fae gates here are not as friendly as they are back home. Duncan’s probably right on this one.” Someone knocked on the door, and Carys rose to answer it. “He’s probably being overly cautious, but having some kind of magical escort that knows this gate isn’t a bad idea, especially if we’re walking into a troll market.”

“Okay, but who?” Laura frowned. “How many fae does Duncan know who are just randomly hanging out in the Brightlands?”

Carys opened the door and looked up into the intoxicating blue eyes of the last person she’d been expecting.

The corner of Dru’s mouth curved up and he bent low, taking Carys’s hand in his own before he placed a courtly kiss on her knuckles. He looked up and smiled. “Carys Morgan, daughter of two worlds, it’s so good to see you again.”