Page 8 of The Shadow Path (Shadowlands #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

T he next morning—way too early—a knock sounded on Carys’s door. She rolled out of bed, threw a cloak over her shoulders, and walked to the door. “If you’re coming to light the fire…” She pulled the door open, her jaw dropping when she saw Lachlan in the hallway. “Lachlan.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “You said something about lighting a fire?” He glanced down at her bare feet. “What are you doing? This isn’t California, Carys.” He shuffled her into the chamber, shutting the door behind them as he picked her up like she weighed nothing and plopped her on the bed.

“What…” Carys put a hand flat on his chest. “Uh, Lachlan, in case you didn’t realize?—”

“I’m not assuming anything.” He kissed her cheek. “Yet.” He bent and searched around the edge of the bed. “Stockings, Carys. You’re going to catch cold wandering around a castle with bare feet.”

She swung her legs over the edge of the high bed. “Are you being serious right now? When did you turn into my granny? Not that I knew my granny, but you know what I mean.”

At that, Lachlan straightened, nudged her knees apart, and slid between them, bracing himself on the edge of the bed as he leaned into her. “What was that?”

Carys’s breath caught. “Uh… nothing.”

Before he returned to the Shadowlands, Lachlan had been practically living with her. They were together for months, and he knew every inch of her body, every one of her buttons, every trick that turned her on.

He didn’t even need to touch her to light a fire.

“Hi.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You’re here early.”

“I wanted to take you riding this morning.” He didn’t move, his arms remained braced on either side of her hips, his lips inches from her own, their breath mingling in the cool morning air.

“Riding sounds fun.”

“Yes.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “I thought it would be nice to catch up on news.” He licked his lips, and she could see how red they were.

It was his tell. Lachlan’s lips always flushed when he was turned on.

“Lachlan?”

“Carys.”

“Riding sounds fun, but you’re going to have to let me get dressed.”

“I could do that, or I could help you get dressed. Or undressed.” His eyes met hers. “I don’t have a fixed plan.”

Having sex with Lachlan would be a mistake. She’d allowed herself a sentimental night with him months ago, and it had left her feeling conflicted and confused.

Was she tempted?

Yes.

Did she know it wasn’t a good idea to sleep with her ex-boyfriend who had been married to her Shadowkin and possibly still had feelings for his dead wife?

Also yes.

She put a hand on Lachlan’s chest and felt the warm, steady beat of his heart under her palm.

He placed his hand over hers and held it there.

“Is that for her or for me?” Carys asked.

“For you.” His voice was soft. “It’s always been for you, Carys. You’re as different from Seren as Duncan is from me.”

Carys closed her eyes and drew her hand back. “Yeah.” The mention of Duncan’s name was enough to kill the mood. “You know Duncan and I?—”

“I know your heart is conflicted,” Lachlan whispered. “I understand, Carys. I truly do.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back. “You and I are from different worlds. I can’t forget that.”

“It didn’t matter before.”

“Because before I didn’t know.”

Lachlan sighed and stood up straight. “Ah, mo chridhe. If I loved you less, it would be easier to step aside.”

Okay, when he said things like that, Carys wanted to pull her former lover into bed and forget all the wise and mature boundaries she’d set for herself. “Riding. Riding is good. Let’s go do that. Did I tell you about my horse?”

Lachlan took a step back, a smile flirting around his lips. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. “I’ll find the kitchen and pack a breakfast for us. You need to eat. Get dressed and meet me at the stables. You can introduce me to your horse there.”

“Perfect.” She started to slide out of bed, but Lachlan caught her around the knees and she gasped.

“Don’t forget stockings.” He lifted her leg and kissed her bare ankle. “It may be summer here, but remember to dress warm.”

When Carys arrived at the stables, she was surprised and not surprised to see Dru in some kind of intense conversation with Lachlan. The tall fae was speaking in low tones to the Alban prince, and he was dressed in heavy woolen clothes that were covered with straw.

Was Dru sleeping in the stables? Carys didn’t know what to make of the odd man, and she hadn’t spent enough time with other fae to know what was and wasn’t normal.

As she’d learned in her previous foray into the Shadowlands, what the books she’d studied said was true and what was actually true were two different things.

Carys hung back, watching from a distance, but the two men didn’t notice her. The fog had cleared, and in the pearlescent morning light, Lachlan looked like a young, golden god. His reddish-brown hair fell to his collar in waves, his shoulders were thrown back, and the clothes he wore made him look every inch the prince that he was.

Dru, on the other hand, looked like the mythical Green Man wandering out of the forest, his hair wild and threaded with feathers and bright blue beads that matched the markings on his face.

But as he spoke with Lachlan, his chin was tipped up and the way he looked down his nose didn’t match the grubby clothes he wore. Dressed in rough clothing or not, there was something distinctly regal about Dru, and Carys was starting to wonder why the fae had crossed back into the Shadowlands.

“Is it Diarmuid himself before me? The wandering Oberon returned at last? What, has the stubborn Mab finally returned your affections, dear boy?”

Was Diarmuid Dru’s true name?

Carys found herself examining what she remembered from the Crow Mother’s cryptic words in the forest the night before. Oberon was easy to decipher; he was the king of the fairies in folk stories and Mab was his queen, but they had broken apart. In some stories, Oberon had even imprisoned Mab.

As far as Carys knew, the high fae of Briton had no king or queen in this realm as humans did. The closest the fae had to a ruler was Prince Cian, the consort of the Eíran Queen Orla.

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

Kingsong? Oberon? Carys had a sneaking feeling that fae politics were going to get a lot more complicated with Dru’s return.

She walked forward, and as soon as Dru spotted her, he stopped talking and snapped something in Gaelic at Lachlan.

Lachlan turned, saw Carys, and his face lit up like the sun. “And there she is. We were just speaking about your appointment with the Crow Mother last night.”

Dru said, “ Appointment is an interesting word.” He turned and whistled. Moments later, Leuca trotted out of the stables, already saddled and bridled, as if she was waiting for Carys to arrive.

“Leuca!” She stepped forward and caught the mare’s reins in her hand. “Good morning.” She grabbed an apple from her pocket and held it out. “I was hoping to see you this morning.”

“You speak as if she understands,” Lachlan said.

“She does.” Dru whispered into the horse’s ear and drew his cloak around his body. “Your uncle was kind enough to let me stay on his estate as I have no home in Briton anymore.”

“In the stables?” Carys accepted Lachlan’s hand as she mounted her horse. “The house is massive. I’m sure there’s a room available.”

“No, thank you.” Dru smiled and looked at the forest. “I prefer the stables.” He patted Leuca’s neck. “It’s a pleasure to be near wild things and warm hearts.”

“I’ll speak to you later,” Lachlan said. “Carys, shall we?” He patted his saddlebags. “I’ve packed a meal for us.”

“Excellent.” Her stomach was rumbling. “Dru, we’ll see you later?”

“I’m here.” His voice was grim. “For good luck or bad, we’ll see in the end.”

Carys and Lachlan walked their horses out of the yard and onto the road. She was silent, breathing in the morning air and drinking in the pearly morning light.

“Why didn’t you tell me about seeing the Crow Mother last night?”

Carys looked to the right. “Because we were flirting in my room when you came to wake me up, and mysterious fae sorceresses were the last thing on my mind.”

Lachlan smiled. “Fair enough.”

The lane outside Dafydd’s estate was a broad boulevard that bordered multiple grand estates, all of them bound by stone walls that enclosed vast green lawns dotted with grazing sheep.

Carys could see the crush of the city in the distance, but while they’d be smack into Brightlands London riding just north of Hyde Park, in the Shadowlands, the rolling land north of the woods was strewn with massive stone houses, grazing land, and scattered stands of forest.

Lachlan handed her an orange. “A bit of home from the continent for you. An ambassador from Gaulle came for a visit this morning. And please tell me if you see the Crow Mother again. She’s trouble.”

“I’m going to see her again. I have to.” Carys took the orange and immediately began to peel it. “This is a treat. Don’t tell me there’s coffee too.”

Lachlan smiled. “None but what you’ve brought with you.”

“Does everyone know about that?” she whispered. “If you guys try to steal my stash, I’m going to get mean. Be warned.”

They passed from the wider road into the park, and immediately the trees around her felt wild. There was an eerie silence under their branches, and she realized there was little to no birdsong even though it was morning.

“You know, in the redwood forest, sometimes visitors complain that there aren’t many birds.” Carys looked around at the ancient tangled oaks, twisting elms, and delicate birches. “But they don’t realize all the birds live so high up that you just don’t hear them.”

“I did notice that, but I’d never put it together with the height of the trees.”

“But here…” Carys looked at the hardwood forest. “There should be birds, right?”

“There are birds,” Lachlan said. “But these woods have very old magic and they’re hunting grounds, so the birds might avoid it even during the day. I doubt many of them nest here.”

“Hunting grounds?”

Lachlan nodded toward the land behind them and to the left. “This park and the Kingswood are wolf territory. We’re not in any danger during the day, but make no mistake. If you stray off the pathways at night, they will find you.”

She heard footsteps to the right, and it might have been a trick of the light, but she saw something moving in the underbrush.

“Lachlan?”

“I hear it. They’re around, but they shouldn’t bother us. We’re foreigners, but we’re guests of the king.” He moved closer even as his horse became restless under him. “Calm, Attalus.”

Carys put her hand on Leuca’s neck, leaving her palm on the warm animal’s body. She felt a hum of serenity even as the flicker in the forest came again, this time accompanied by a crashing sound in the distance.

“Should we go back?”

Lachlan’s mouth was a grim line. “It’s daylight in the park, and we’re guests of King Harold,” he bit out. “There should be no danger.”

Nêrys?

“Cadell is close.” The dragon had remained at Dafydd’s estate, not particularly adept at flying through the bunched trees of the park in beast form.

I’m with Lachlan, and there are wolves in the forest.

Cadell’s voice came back to her mind in a calm, even cadence. The forest is their home.

True . “Is this making you nervous?” She was watching Lachlan, whose eyes were sweeping from left to right. “Should we go back?”

“No.” His jaw was set in a firm line. “They have no cause to bother us.”

Cause or no cause, the crashing sounds were coming closer. The wolves were not masking their approach, and while Lachlan, Carys, and their horses waited near the path, a column of massive, grey- and brown-coated wolves filtered through the brush and out of the forest and began circling the riders, yipping in excitement, then positioning themselves in formation around them.

A perfect circle of preternaturally large wolves surrounding Carys and Lachlan and staring at them as they sat crouched and ready.

Carys wasn’t afraid, but she was feeling… cautious.

There were no snarls or growls, but their utter silence felt more daunting.

She’d run into wolves in the Brightlands, but these creatures were nothing like timber wolves. They weren’t wild in the least. Many of them wore gold or silver bands around their shoulders. Not a collar, but something that almost looked like a wolfish pauldron.

“Good morning to the pack.” Lachlan spoke calmly to the largest wolf, who waited in front of them. “We are guests of Dafydd and Harold, taking a morning ride through the king’s land. Who do we walk with this morning?”

A moment later, Carys saw her first wolf transformation.

A massive white beast with grey shoulders stepped forward and walked toward them, its body shimmering like a mirage a moment before a tall man with a shock of grey and black hair emerged, his body covered in leather armor fitted to his frame like a second skin.

“I am Godrik of the Eskari.” The wolf’s voice was low and menacing. “And you are foreigners trespassing on the territory of Harold, king of Anglia.” His grey eyes narrowed on Carys. “Brightkin are not welcome in this place.”

“Your aggression is unwarranted, Godrik.” Lachlan kept his voice even but firm. “Has Anglian hospitality fallen so low that the king’s guests are unwelcome in his woods?”

Godrik stared at Carys as if Lachlan wasn’t even there. “State your business, Brightkin.”

Carys racked her brain, trying to remember what the forest rangers said about wolf encounters.

She was pretty sure you shouldn’t turn your back to them. Maintain eye contact, but don’t stare too intently because that could be interpreted as a challenge to their territory.

“I am the Brightkin of Seren of Cymru,” Carys said. “The niece of Dafydd of Cymru.”

“You are Brightkin, not of the Shadows.”

“I am also a nêrys ddraig, bonded to Cadell of Eryri.”

That made the wolf blink. “And yet you ride on a horse like any other human?”

Cadell , she called to her dragon in her mind, might be the time to make an entrance.

Don’t move.

“I’ve called to my dragon.” Carys sat back on her horse and waited. “He’s not very far away.” In fact, seconds after she’d called to him, she could feel Cadell approaching.

Lachlan urged his mount forward. “I know your father,” he said. “The wolves of Eskari are clan brothers with the wolves of Yorvik, who border Alban lands. We have no quarrel with you.”

Godrik kept his eyes on Carys, settling back on his right leg with his hands braced on his hips as two wolves came to flank his right and left side. “The Alban chief’s son is a guest of Harold and may pass without warrant through any of the kingswoods.” He nodded at Carys. “She is a foreigner and has no such passage.”

A thundering roar sounded from the air, and seconds later, Carys felt Cadell circling overhead. The dragon let out another ferocious roar, and Godrik looked up. His eyes went wide, and he looked at Carys again.

“So you’re the one.” He frowned slightly, and then a mask fell over his face and the soldier was all that remained.

Cadell circled the woods, lowering in ever-smaller circles until the dragon landed in a crowded clearing a short distance from the pathway, letting out a gust of hissing steam that blew like heated fog through the trees.

“I didn’t know he could do that,” Carys muttered.

Tell them nothing. Seconds after he landed, a storm-faced Cadell was stomping through the woods, aiming straight for Godrik, who braced himself as a dozen wolves moved into position behind him.

“You doubt my lady’s word?” Cadell snarled at Godrik. “Do the Anglian king’s dogs question my lady’s right to walk in a territory where she was invited?” He stood between Carys—who was still sitting on Leuca—and the wolf pack, an angry tower of consternation in green leather armor. “She honors you with her very presence.”

“Cadell of Eryri.” Godrik inclined his head, holding out his hand as the wolves around him began to pace and snarl. “We have no quarrel with you.”

Cadell pointed at Carys. “If you have quarrel with my nêrys, you have quarrel with me.”

Lachlan swung off his horse and stepped between the two massive men. “Hold, friends. Let us talk in calmer voices.” He looked around at the wolves gathering close. “We are allies, after all.”

Carys leaned forward. “Cadell, should I?—”

“Stay where you are.” The dragon looked at Carys’s horse, and Carys would swear that they were speaking with their minds because Leuca took a careful sidestep toward the path.

“Carys.” Lachlan’s voice was a soothing brush of charm that cut through the tension in the clearing. “You’re fine. We’re all friends here.”

“Do you distrust our ability to reason?” Godrik couldn’t hide his sneer as he took another step toward the dragon. “Or do you distrust your own, dragon?”

It was only then that Carys realized just how tall Godrik was. Until Lachlan stepped between them, she hadn’t noticed, but the wolf was nearly as tall as her dragon but of stockier build.

“I’d like to just point out that the reason you were unhappy with me walking through the forest was because you thought I was Brightkin and a foreigner, and since Cadell has arrived and confirmed that I’m nêrys ddraig, the entire reason for all… this has now been answered, so…” She waved her arms. “Can we all be happy now?”

Cadell glared at Godrik.

Godrik glared at Cadell.

Lachlan, as imposing as he normally was, looked like the little brother trying to break up a fight.

“What’s this?” A bright voice came from a short distance away. “Godrik, is that you?”

Carys turned and saw a round-faced, cheerful woman with curly blond hair walking up the path. She wore something that looked like a uniform and carried a bow and arrow strapped to her back. “And Lachlan.” She grinned.

Godrik took a step back and bowed to the woman. “Lady Wynnflad. I didn’t realize you were in the wood this morning.”

“Winnie.” Lachlan let out a breath. “Good to see you. I was riding with Carys through the park this morning and we had… a bit of an interruption.”

“Good to see you too. The castle is absolutely buzzing with preparations for the welcome banquet tonight, so I’m trying to escape.” The soldier walked with a light step and a keen eye. She glanced at Cadell, then at Carys on her horse, immediately taking the measure of the situation. “You must be Dafydd’s niece.”

“I am.” Carys decided to offer the woman her name. She didn’t look even a little bit fae. “I’m Carys.” She didn’t need her last name. “And I am Dafydd’s niece. I’m also from the Brightlands.” She gestured toward Cadell. “And this is Cadell, my dragon.”

Godrik took another step back, and the wolves that had been in formation around him sat on their haunches.

“Lady Wynnflad.” Cadell turned to the newcomer and inclined his head. “It is an honor to meet a captain of the Kingsguard. I have heard much about your prowess in battle.” He turned to Carys. “Lady Wynnflad is the king’s cousin and one of the captains of King Harold’s guard. She is also an expert archer.”

“Call me Winnie, please.” Winnie stepped forward and extended her hand up to Carys. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Carys of the Brightlands. I knew Seren by reputation only, but it was a good reputation.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Especially since the arrival of the king’s cousin seemed to have dissipated the tension that had filled the woods only moments before.

“Welcome to London.” Winnie’s eyes lit up. “My cousin Harold is eager to meet the woman from California who can speak to dragons.”