Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

O nce the castle was behind her, Carys let out a sigh and slowed her steps a little, moving out of the way before she was run over by a market cart. She stood on the side of the road to survey the lane before her and the dark rise of the hills beyond.

The main road bisected the town that surrounded the castle. To the left, lanes led off toward taller wood-and-plaster buildings that climbed up the hill leading toward the ridge where an old stone tower stood guard. There were carts and horses walking through the lanes. Signs hung from shop windows, and men and women swept off the wooden stoops in front of the tall buildings.

To the right, sloping downhill, were squat houses and patched gardens. Dogs trotted through cobbled streets, and cats lazed on thatch roofs. There was an eye-catching mix of homespun garments and brightly dyed T-shirts hanging from clotheslines. The garish mix of modern and ancient arrested her eyes as she took everything in.

Outside one house, a line of plastic flags flapped along the top of a woven wattle fence. There was a broken mirror hanging prominently on the wall of a whitewashed house, and a plastic cartoon mouse topped a scarecrow in a back garden .

This was a human world, but it wasn't hers. There was no metal, no hum of electricity in the air. There were no phone or electrical lines crossing overhead, but the atmosphere was anything but silent. The town clamored as she walked through it, bursting with the magical and the mundane.

To her right, a rotund shopkeeper conversed with a squat creature that looked like a dwarf or a goblin of some kind. Their postures reminded her of the old farmers back home—both the man and the creature stood with their hands on their hips, heads nodding as they chatted.

A willowy fae woman was bent over in a garden plot to her right, examining something next to a housewife with long grey braids. They chatted in Gaelic, the human woman gesticulating passionately as the fae woman nodded along.

Carys saw birds she didn't recognize flying overhead and the occasional flutter of something that might have been a sprite or a nymph that flashed brightly in the flat morning light, then disappeared before she could make out anything concrete.

She was walking through a fairy tale but not like any she could have imagined. Nothing like the stories she'd been told. This was gritty and familiar, but walking through it instead of reading in the safe pages of a book meant that Carys was becoming overwhelmed, and it wasn't only because of the emotional turmoil of seeing Lachlan again.

She needed to get back to Duncan's cottage. Even if she had to find her way back to the fae gate by herself, she needed to get away.

Beyond the houses sloped a huge meadow that looked almost like an athletic field. The town commons maybe? She saw some animals grazing and a group of children flying kites. There was a small lake at the bottom of the hill, and birds flew low over the water.

Past the town the hills rose up, covered with trees. One side seemed much darker than the other, so she decided to head that way.

The Borderlands, Duncan had called it.

She needed to find Duncan's cottage, get her stuff, and get back to the Borderlands. From there, the giant creepy fairy forest that stole tiny human souls should probably be easy to find.

Carys started walking again, down the main road and past the shops, the houses, and all the morning traffic, barely looking up until the crowds thinned and the road grew narrow.

When she reached a fork in the road, she finally looked around and saw that the houses were scattered, the town was far behind her, and she had no idea where she was.

Dammit.

She swallowed hard and debated what she should do. Duncan's cottage. If she could find that, she'd have a start. Maybe she could wait a little bit. He'd probably come back, right? If Duncan came back, maybe he could take her back to Scotland.

She hated both Duncan and Lachlan, but that seemed like the best option.

The trees and greenery around the road where the forks branched off looked like the area around Duncan's house. She had no idea how long she'd been walking, but maybe someone would recognize his name.

"Sir?" She pulled her hair forward to hide her face as much as possible and flagged down an old man pushing a cart up the hill toward the castle. "Do you… speak English?"

He held his fingers together. "Little."

The old man was dressed in clothes much like her own, woolen trousers and a long tunic belted around the waist. At his neck, she saw a metal chain of some kind that winked brightly beneath all the brown and tan clothing.

She cocked her head, and the man saw her looking.

He grinned and pulled the necklace from his tunic. It was a charm she'd seen a thousand times at a hundred tourist shops on the California coast, a pair of crossed surfboards with bright orange and yellow enamel, the word California spelled out in swirling green letters.

"California." She smiled.

"Brightlands," the man said carefully. "From Brightlands."

She smiled. That charm had traveled as far as she had, and she suddenly felt a little more at home. "Duncan Murray?"

"Laird Duncan?" He nodded dramatically and pointed to the castle. "Castle."

She shook her head. "House? Uh… cottage?"

"Ah." He walked toward the left fork of the road and pointed in that direction. "House."

"That way?" She pointed at the left fork.

"Yes." He pointed, then made a gesture that looked like his hands were growing into branches. "Craobh."

Carys asked, "A tree?"

"Yes." The man nodded. "Tree. Craobh-dharaich." He made the gesture for the tree again, then moved his hand in a hard right. "Ri taobh na coille."

"Turn right by the tree." Carys nodded. "Duncan's house?"

"Yes." He nodded again. "Duncan Murray."

"Th—" She quickly caught herself. The old man was human. Probably. Better safe than sorry though. "I appreciate it."

"Tapadh leat." The old man winked at her.

"I don't know what that means." She kept smiling and nodded a little bit.

"Thank you," the man said carefully. "Tapadh leat."

If the old man was saying thank you to her, it was probably safe to respond the same way, and all the manners Carys's father had drilled into her demanded she show gratitude. Taking a chance, Carys mustered up the memory of the rudimentary Welsh her mother had taught her. "Diolch yn fawr."

"Ah!" The man's bushy grew eyebrows went up. "Cymru?"

Carys put her hand over her heart, feeling a swell of warmth. "Yes. I'm… Cymru."

"Good." The old man gave her a thumbs-up. "Good."

Carys waved goodbye, then started down the lane in the direction the old man had indicated. She walked for a few minutes, then saw a large oak tree growing in the middle of the road with ribbons hanging from the lower branches, pennies pushed into the trunk, and offerings of flowers, cakes, and milk left in bowls nestled among the gnarled, mossy roots. Just beyond the tree was a pathway that jumped over a stone wall and led into a stand of trees.

Carys didn't recognize the oak tree from her morning walk with Duncan, but maybe she'd taken a wrong turn. She didn't clearly remember all the paths that Duncan had taken this morning, but she did remember that his house was on the edge of a forest. The old man had seemed very certain that Duncan's house was right by the tree. Maybe this was the back way to his cottage.

She walked into the forest, wary of the dense trees that reminded her too much of the fae forest where she and Duncan had entered the Shadowlands, but there was none of the whispering voices or darkness that she remembered.

Though it was shadowed and dense, the oaks and ashes looked like an ordinary forest. Dotted among the hardwood trees were taller pines, first sparse, then growing thicker the farther she walked down the path. There was no bright sun casting shadows above the canopy, and the forest floor was littered with unfamiliar leaves, but the trees felt peaceful and birdsong filled the air.

The path through the forest was wide and even, indicating to Carys that this was a well-used path. There were occasional signs along the path that she couldn't read with arrows pointing off in some directions.

It felt a little like a city park. Carys reached out and ran her fingers along the trunk of a pine, and immediately a whisper came to her through the trees that made her freeze.

There were words on the wind, songs she couldn't understand that reminded her of some faint childhood memory of sand and sea and her mother singing to the cedar trees.

She lifted her hand from the tree trunk and looked up to see a black crow peering down at her.

"Caw!" The bird looked at her with a shining black eye, then hopped down the branch a little. "Caw!" It looked again, then flew away.

She felt a tug in her chest, urging her to follow the bird. She craned her head around a gnarled oak tree and peered down a narrow, winding path leading toward a darker part of the forest. The trees grew taller there. They were dense and wild, overgrown with moss and dotted with bright red hawthorn berries. She felt it again, a tugging instinct in her belly.

She forgot the pain in her swollen feet, and the taste of ripe berries touched her tongue.

Something was there. Was it the path to Duncan's cottage?

She heard whispers as she stepped onto the path; the crow looked at her, then flew a little farther. From the corner of her eye, light danced in the distance and Carys froze.

Don't follow the lights, my Carys. They want to lead you away from me.

Her mother's voice whispered in her mind, and she stepped back onto the wide forest path. No. This wasn't the time or the place to explore.

As Carys stepped back onto the path, she thought she heard the faint sound of laughter coming through the trees, but she turned her face and started walking again.

Back to the cottage.

Through the fae gate.

Back to the normal world.

Fly home to Baywood as soon as possible.

Try to forget Lachlan Murray ever existed.

The last thought left an ache in her chest.

How was she supposed to forget the man who'd made her feel alive? How was she supposed to stop loving Lachlan when her heart told her it didn't care if he loved Seren first? Did it matter? Maybe she could live with knowing she was second best.

She was immediately disgusted by her own thoughts.

Self-respect, Carys. She heard her father's voice. Pick your head up, my girl. You're as good as any of them .

"Better." She continued walking on the path.

She came to a clearing and heard a rustling in the bushes, then a child's cry.

Carys froze, wary of any unfamiliar sounds, but this time there was nothing otherworldly about the small noise. There was a huff, a pained exhalation, and then a whimpering sniffle that turned into a plaintive sob.

She stepped toward the trees, peeking around the yellow-leaved brush to see a little girl around five or six on the ground, her ankle twisted in a hole. She had a grubby face, brown hair, and dark brown eyes that were filled with tears when she looked up at Carys.

"I hurt my foot."

Carys was surprised the girl spoke English, but she immediately bent down to help. "You poor thing. Did you trip?"

The little girl nodded. "I was running after my cousin, and he ran away with his friends and I couldn't catch up. They run much faster than me."

"Don't worry." Carys dug around the girl's ankle, loosening the soil in what looked like a small animal burrow. "You'll catch up when you're bigger. In fact, I bet you'll be the fastest runner of them all." She pulled the girl's narrow ankle from the hole, already seeing where the joint had swelled. "Oh kiddo, that looks like it hurts."

"It does hurt." She sniffed. "But I won't cry. I promise. Do you have a potion?"

Carys's eyebrows went up. "A potion?"

The little girl nodded. "For my ankle. Humans have potions sometimes."

Carys stood quickly and looked down at the little girl. "Humans have… Are you not human?" All of Duncan's warnings about talking to the fae came rushing back, and Carys felt like a fool.

"I am right now, silly." The little girl leaned forward and tried to stand but couldn't. "Can you help me?" She held out her hand.

The child wasn't acting like she was trying to trick or trap Carys, and it was impossible to leave a helpless little girl in the middle of the forest when she was injured. Could fae even get injured?

After a moment of hesitation, Carys squatted down. "Can you ride on my back if I help you up?"

The girl giggled. "Yes."

"Okay, let's try that." She turned, and the little girl put her arms around Carys's shoulder and her legs around her waist. Soon she was carrying the child through the forest like a backpack.

"This is fun!"

Carys was glad the little girl sounded cheerful. Her ankle was swelling to the size of a grapefruit. "Can you point me the way to your house?"

"Oh, we don't live in a house, but I can show you where our meadow is."

"Your… meadow?"

"It's the prettiest meadow!" The little girl started bouncing. "Come on. I'll show you where to go."

Okay. Maybe the girl's family was itinerant. Maybe they lived in wagons or tents. She didn't look hungry, and while she was grubby from playing in the forest, her hair was neatly braided, and from the weight on Carys's back, she was well fed.

The child proceeded to give Carys directions through the forest, taking small paths and jumping over little streams that flowed downhill toward a glimmering blue body of water that peeked through the trees.

"Is that a lake?"

"The loch?"

"Right," Carys whispered. "A loch ."

The loch stretched out from the forest, calm and smooth and bright as it reflected the pearl-grey sky. Birds sang in the trees, and the only break in the glassy surface of the water was the ducks cutting across the mirrorlike surface with a line of ducklings paddling behind them.

As they reached the edge of the loch, the child pulled on Carys's shoulders. "My mother told me not to go near the water. "

Carys smiled. "That's good advice when you're alone, but you're not alone, are you?"

The path they'd been taking through the forest was twisted and uneven. Roots and rough stones threatened to trip Carys in her large boots, and it was hard to watch the path when she was getting directions from her little guide.

She looked at the smooth ground running along the edge of the peaceful loch where birds nested. Just then, a deer broke through the trees in the distance, walked to the edge of the water, and bent his head down to drink.

Carys watched the deer for a moment, holding her breath and waiting for anything sinister to emerge, but after a few moments, the animal lifted its head and loped away.

"Okay, I promise I'm a really good swimmer and I'm not going to drop you." She turned and headed toward the grassy verge on the edge of the loch. Carys knew she'd walk twice as fast if she could hike on even ground, and her feet were a blistered mess. She was far more likely to stumble on the rocky forest path. "Don't worry, okay? This is safer for both of us. I don't want to trip and drop you. That might hurt you worse."

"Okay." The little girl's voice was still cautious, and she hugged Carys's shoulders tightly.

They walked down the green slope to the edge of the water, and Carys enjoyed the crunch of smooth gravel under the soles of her overlarge boots. The wind on the water curled ripples along the surface of the lake, tossing small waves onto the shore and singing a haunting tune as it threaded through the trees.

Carys smiled, remembering all the lakes that her mother had painted over the years; Tegan Morgan was fascinated by the play of light and darkness in the depths. She had loved taking her easel to the beach and watched in delight as Carys and her father played in the cold Pacific waves.

"It's just past that log," the little girl said. "Walk over the log and then go back into the trees. "

"Sounds good."

"What's your name?" The little girl rested her chin on Carys's head. "I promise I won't steal it."

"Are you fae?"

According to most fae stories, a fairy who had your true name could enchant you, steal your free will, or even hold you captive in their world. The variations on stories were countless, but every tale she'd ever read told her that giving a fae your true name meant handing over power.

The little girl giggled. "Don't be silly. Did you see my ears?"

Carys had checked her ears. She'd also looked under the layer of grub to check for any kind of sigil but had seen nothing.

"I'll tell you my name first!" she said. "It's Azar." She pulled on Carys's shoulders. "Now you promise not to steal it."

For a child raised in this world, that had to be a constant threat. "I promise. That's a pretty name. My friends call me Carys."

Azar didn't sound like a Scottish name to Carys. Then again, the Shadowlands reflected the Brightlands, and there was no lack of different faces from what she'd seen so far.

"Just up here." The little girl patted Carys's shoulder. "The path on the right."

"Okay." Carys turned to walk back toward the trees, but her eyes caught on a reflection in the water. She turned and stared at the hypnotic face that slowly appeared in the grey-blue gloom. It was a beautiful man, his pale skin silver beneath the surface.

He looked like he was sleeping.

"Carys?"

She blinked when she heard Azar say her name.

A curl of dread formed in her belly a split second before she realized what she was seeing. "No."

"Run!" the little girl screamed. "Carys, run!"

Carys turned and ran toward the trees but not before a high-pitched shriek came from behind her. She turned, trying to get Azar off her back to shield her from whatever was coming behind them, and saw the terrifying figure of a kelpie bursting out of the lake.

The beautiful man was gone, replaced by the looming figure of a grey-skinned water horse with red eyes and a dripping black mane threaded with weeds and ropes he would use to pull his prey into the water and drag them under.

"Hold on!" Carys pumped her legs and tried to make it up the slope but didn't make it before she felt something snake around her ankle. With all her strength, she flung the little girl toward the safety of the trees before she fell. "Get away!"

The little girl screamed as the rope around Carys's ankle pulled her hard to the ground. Her chest hit the rocky shore with a thud, and she tasted blood in her mouth. The kelpie began to drag her along the gravel at the edge of the lake. She dug her fingers into the ground, trying to hold on, but there was nothing to grab but smooth grey stones that fell away under her hands.

Carys looked up and saw Azar scurry into the bushes. She breathed out a sigh of relief that the child at least had escaped. The kelpie screamed again and dragged Carys toward the water.

She rolled to her back and looked around, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. She reached for a fallen branch that had washed up from the lake, gripped it, and swung the driftwood like a bat as the kelpie reared over her, snorting and spraying her with cold, stinking water.

The water horse's hooves stomped down right next to Carys's head and she wriggled away, but the kelpie's rope was wrapped firm around her ankle, tightening and pulling her ever closer to the loch. She felt her heavy boots slip underwater, and the stuffed wool around her feet grew cold and wet.

No, no, no!

This was not how she was going to die.

Carys swung the branch again, making contact with the burning eyes of the creature. She jabbed the branch upward, trying to hurt it enough that she could crawl away, but the kelpie shrieked with rage and bared its pointed teeth. Its black hooves stomped down next to her head again; then it reared up, and Carys realized her hair was caught in the cloven hooves of the devilish creature.

The wheeling hooves threw her forward, and she saw the loch looming in front of her face until the hair caught in the kelpie's hoof ripped free and Carys fell back to the shore, scrambling away until the rope around her ankle pulled her back.

Fuck you!

She was so angry she could scream, but she didn't want to waste her breath. There was a sharp pain on her scalp where her hair had torn away, and blood dripped into her eyes. She gritted her teeth and reached for the driftwood again.

She was not going to die like this.

The sound of hooves thundering in the distance reached Carys's ears, and she felt ice curl in her chest.

More hooves. More kelpies. She wouldn't escape if another attacked.

But the kelpie turned his head—his attention caught by something to the left—and whatever was wrapped around Carys's ankle released. She rolled over, keeping the thick branch in her grasp as she wiped the blood and filthy water from her eyes, trying to wrap her mind around what she was seeing.

On the edge of the water, just yards away from her, a golden-brown unicorn reared up, its high whinny drowning out the fearsome shrieks of the kelpie. On its head, a silver-brown horn glowed with a lethal point, and it lowered its head as it charged the kelpie.

The two creatures battled on the edge of the water, the unicorn kicking at the grey water horse and beating it back. The massive animal attacked the kelpie from higher ground, lowering its head to impale the creature's chest as the kelpie let out another rage-filled scream.

Carys was frozen in shock for a moment, and then she realized she was still halfway sitting in the water. She scrambled away from the loch on her hands and knees, into the safety of the long grass and the shelter of the trees. Azar was bouncing with excitement, sitting on a fallen log, smiling and pointing to the glowing creature that battled back the kelpie.

"I called my dad," she said with a smile, patting Carys's shoulder. "Don't worry. You're safe now."