Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

T he following morning, Carys met Queen Elanor, Queen Eamer, and Aisling in a small room that looked over the formal garden. It was the queen's morning room, and there was a breakfast table laid out with boiled eggs, savory sausages, apples, pears, and berries, and pastries that looked as if they'd come fresh from a French bakery.

"Carys!" Elanor held out both her hands. "I am so glad you decided to join us."

She offered Elanor an apologetic smile. "Finally, right?"

Elanor smiled, and her eyes creased in the corners. "I would not say it. But yes. I've been looking forward to this." She was a beautiful woman with silver threading her blond hair and clear blue eyes the color of a summer sky.

"I am so fortunate to meet you," Elanor continued. "If you catch me staring, know that it is only because I loved your sister very much." A shadow of pain flickered across the queen's eyes, and she blinked rapidly. "But now is not the time to mourn. This is a celebration. Come and meet your aunt." Elanor motioned to where Queen Eamer was already seated at the head of the table next to Aisling .

Carys walked over and offered an awkward curtsy. "Your… Majesty?" She turned to Elanor. "I am so sorry—I don't know what's proper here. I am probably addressing you wrong too."

"We're not like humans in the Brightlands," Elanor said. "And you are family. Please." She motioned to a servant to pull out Carys's chair. "Eamer, this is your daughter's Brightkin, Carys Morgan."

Eamer, despite her pinched mouth, had kind blue eyes. "It's very nice to see you again, Carys. We didn't get a chance to speak at the banquet, and I have been busy with state business."

"I'm glad we can speak now," Carys said. "It's been wonderful to get to know King Dafydd a bit."

"I'm sure you have much to talk about," Eamer said. "And I'm sure you have many questions."

Aisling laughed. "Carys is full of questions. As much as Seren always was."

Eamer sent her niece a look, and Aisling went silent.

"That seems natural to me." Elanor sat down. "I'm sure if I ever visited the Brightlands, I'd have many questions as well."

As soon as Queen Elanor sat, the servants began bustling around the table, serving the food and filling goblets with water and cider. Carys took a portion of eggs and sausages, eager to fill her empty belly with food that smelled amazing.

She'd been sticking with the apples, cheese, and bread that Duncan brought most days. Cadell didn't want her eating much of anything unless he could smell it, and Cadell wasn't always around. But eating food from the queen's personal table seemed as safe as she could get.

Carys glanced at Aisling. "I feel like I know you a little bit already from knowing your niece, Queen Eamer. Aisling has been a great friend since I came to the castle."

Eamer looked at Aisling. "My niece has a true heart and a generous one. She trusts easily."

Aisling beamed. "Thank you, Aunt."

"I didn't say it was a good thing."

Queen Eamer was less intimidating on close inspection. She had a reserved demeanor and a quiet voice. Her hair was deep brown, the color of stained walnut, and she had blue eyes the same color as Aisling's set in an angular face.

Her features were dramatic at a distance but almost awkward on close inspection. She looked tired, tension evident in the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Carys wondered if she was the type of person who didn't sleep well in a foreign bed.

"I understand there are a lot of meetings and things like that on a visit like this." Carys took a bite of sausage and nearly rolled her eyes in happiness.

"Indeed there are." Eamer glanced at Elanor. "The men always think they don't need our input, but if we left them to their own devices, I imagine not a single child in Briton would know how to read."

"Not a village child anyway." Aisling looked at Carys. "It was Queen Elanor's mother who pushed for public schooling funded by the local lords across Briton. She was well-traveled and worried that Anglian children were falling behind foreign populations."

"They were," Eamer said bluntly.

"So there are public schools now?"

"For boys and girls up to age fifteen," Elanor said. "After that, most of them choose to work, but there are some universities for higher learning and of course there are mage schools."

"The mage schools are very exclusive," Eamer said. "It's rare for them to take children not from high-born families."

"My aunts were both educated in the fae court." Aisling lifted her chin proudly. "As was my mother."

"The art and music of the fae surpasses anything that humans can produce," Elanor said graciously. "A very fortunate education."

Eamer asked Carys, "And where were you educated?"

"Uh…" She set down her water goblet. "I went to a… village school in Baywood, where I grew up, and my father was a teacher there. It was small, but the teachers were great. And I went to a university not far from where I grew up. "

"A university." Aisling's eyes glittered. "No wonder you became a professor."

"Oh well." She glanced around the table. "I'm not a full professor yet. I teach though. And hopefully with enough experience and some more published work?—"

"What do you teach?" Eamer asked.

Carys cleared her throat. "My specialty is world mythology and fantasy literature."

Elanor and Eamer both stared at her.

"The last class I taught was Introduction to World Mythology." Carys smoothed the napkin on her lap. "And I also teach a class on fairy tales and their influence on modern culture."

Aisling couldn't hide her smile. "You teach about us, you mean?"

"Uh… no." She smiled. "You're real people."

"But we're fairy tales to you." Elanor exchanged an amused look with Aisling. "Tell me, Carys Morgan, could you teach a class on the Shadowlands?"

"I don't think I'd dare." She took another bite and carefully swallowed before she spoke again. "It's one thing to read about something." She looked around the table. "To study historical trends and the movement of mythologies across cultures. How geography and politics influence the stories people in my world tell. But" —she smiled a little— "to be confronted with the reality is something entirely different. In my world, we tell stories about the kelpie or the rusalka or la llorona to scare children away from bodies of water that could be dangerous. Here, those creatures are real."

"Maybe they've always been real," Eamer said, "and humans in your world forgot about them."

"Maybe." Carys nodded. "Like I said, I couldn't teach a class on the Shadowlands. There's too much I don't know."

Elanor smiled. "A wise woman knows what she knows and what she does not."

"Indeed," Eamer said. "My Queen Mother would agree with you. "

"May the gods bless her peaceful reign," Elanor said. "Carys, would you like more sausage?"

"Thanks."

Despite the awkward turn of the conversation, the air in the room was as warm as the light streaming through the windows, and Carys felt welcome.

That was until a cooler wind blew in with Regan's arrival.

"Regan." Elanor smiled politely, though there was tension around her mouth. "I'm glad you found your way to breakfast this morning."

"And miss the Alban queen's generous hospitality? Never." Regan sat next to Carys. "How could I miss spending a morning with the mysterious sister?" She cast her eyes toward Carys. "Carys Morgan."

Her name sounded sinister on Regan's tongue.

Carys smiled despite the shiver on the back of her neck. "Aisling, how is the progress on your grimoire going?"

"Good."

"Slow," Regan said. "She still has much to learn."

Two spots of red burned on Aisling's cheeks.

Elanor broke in. "And yet Aisling is such great benefit to our court. You'll be happy to know that she has gained a reputation for her healing knowledge. Even the unicorns consult with her on herbs and potions."

"Thank you, Queen Elanor." Aisling kept her voice low.

"High praise," Eamer said. "The unicorns are famed for their healing knowledge. I'm sure they've shared much with Aisling as well." She glanced at Regan. "Mother will be pleased."

Elanor's eyes cut from Aisling to Regan. "Perhaps you'll find more time to spend with your niece so that she may take on the full responsibilities of a mage. The king and I would both be in your debt, and it would allow her to take on a novice of her own."

"I'll consider it." Regan lounged in her chair. "My travels in Anglia consume me."

"What do you do?" Carys asked.

Regan turned to her. "What do I do?"

"Yes, what do you do in Anglia? Are you a healer like Aisling?"

Regan curled her lip, but Carys pressed on.

"Do you consult in political matters like your sister Eamer?" Carys kept her eyes wide. "You're the daughter of the queen of éire, right?"

The corner of Regan's mouth lifted. "I am."

"So you must be busy." Carys lifted a goblet of water and sipped it. "Probably finishing Aisling's studies would free up some time. Less time traveling to places like Alba if there's already a mage in your mother's family living here."

"Aisling won't be here forever." Regan smirked. "Our mother will only allow her to be lovesick for so long."

"Regan." Eamer's voice cut through Aisling's quiet gasp.

Carys could see Aisling trembling in her seat, and Elanor must have noticed the woman's discomfort too.

"Aisling, I'm so forgetful," Elanor said. "I was going to give Carys a book that Seren gave me for my birthday a few years ago. It's in English, and I thought she would enjoy it. Would you be a dear and fetch it from the library for me?"

"Of course, Queen Elanor." Aisling immediately left the room, leaving Carys alone with Elanor, Eamer, and Regan.

Eamer said something to Regan in a language Carys didn't understand, and Regan slowly stood at the table, stretched her arms over her head, and grabbed a folded pastry and an apple from the table.

"This is boring. I'll find Aisling and work on her grimoire today." She glanced at Carys. "Enjoy your breakfast, Seren's kin. We will speak another time."

Aisling's absence and Regan's departure left the rest of the women at loose ends, and Carys could see that Eamer was itching to follow her sister. She decided to provide both women with an exit.

She scooted out her chair. "Elanor, would you mind if I got that book from you later? I forgot that I was going to meet with Cadell this morning."

Elanor nodded. "Of course."

"Carys Morgan." Eamer's sharp voice cut through the tension in the room. "I have a gift for you as well." She held out a box with a blue ribbon around it. "A memento of your sister from her childhood."

Carys reached out and carefully took the small box. "I will treasure it."

The queen offered only a stiff nod in acknowledgment before Carys left the room.

Carys sped to her room and opened the box from Eamer immediately. Inside she found a pocket mirror with a simple gold casing small enough to fit into a lady's purse. It was shaped like a compact, and on the front of the mirror was an engraved dragon with red enamel inlay. It was in perfect shape with hardly a scratch on it.

Clearly, looking at herself in the mirror hadn't been a high priority for her sister.

Carys flipped it to the back to see an engraved message in English.

To Seren

With joy in the eleventh year of your life.

Eamer

It was a gift given almost as soon as Seren had returned to Cymru for her dragon training, a gold mirror for a rowdy warrior girl. Eamer must have given the gift with good intentions, the new wife of a beloved father, trying to curry favor with a daughter already half-grown.

And Seren had packed the fine gift away, a nêrys ddraig having little use for a present to enhance her appearance.

"You didn't understand each other." With the gift of distance, Carys could see how the two women—so very different—might have rubbed each other the wrong way.

Eamer struck Carys as a traditional woman who valued her role as queen and consort. She was involved in education and formalities while Seren had been a wild child who became a formidable adult, a warrior in her heart, raised in a wild place where she ran amok through the hills and forests of Alba.

"Not an easy relationship," Carys murmured. She opened the mirror to look into the glass and saw the edge of something white sticking out along the side. A thread from Eamer's purse?

Carys picked at it and quickly realized that it wasn't a thread at all but the edge of a paper sticking out from the backing of the mirror. Taking her fingernail, she pried up the polished metal to see a small compartment behind the mirror. A secret compartment containing a folded piece of paper. She set the mirror down and opened the paper.

Meet me in the portrait gallery after dinner tonight. Please come alone.

Carys quickly stuffed the note into her pocket and put the mirror on the desk by the window.

What did Eamer want to tell her? And why did she want Carys to come alone?

The banquet that night was the third one of Dafydd and Eamer's visit, though unlike the glittery finery of the first, this one was a more casual and music-filled feast held for the merchants, traders, and landowners in the area as well as some of the local lords.

Carys sat at the same table she had for the first banquet, but this time the atmosphere was much more relaxed. The music was lively, and she danced with Duncan again, then with Dafydd. Lachlan sat at the head table, but they were both avoiding each other's eyes.

"What's going on with you and my brother?" Duncan asked her the second time they danced.

The dancers around them were all speaking Gaelic. They were taking a chance by speaking in English, so Carys kept her voice low. "He wants me to go back to Scotland."

"Oh aye, he would." The dance took them away from each other, but when Duncan reached her again, he continued. "He doesn't like conflict. He wants everyone to be happy. It's not a bad thing."

"It is when Seren's murderer is still roaming around the castle," Carys muttered. The more she'd thought about it, the angrier she got at her conversation with Lachlan.

What kind of husband didn't want to avenge his wife? What kind of lover was content to let his wife die without any questions?

"Cadell said you were at the cottage all day." Duncan ducked his head and spoke closely. "Any progress? She doesn't mention the forge, does she?"

"Progress, yes. The other thing, no. Still a lot of missing pieces." They ducked under a pair of arms, then circled around back to each other. "Cadell put them in order, and I've skimmed through them. I'm pretty sure the last journal is missing."

"Missing?" Duncan put his hand on her waist and spun her around before bringing her back to his chest. "As in gone?"

"Unless you think she suddenly stopped daily journal entries six months before her death, yes."

"Fuck."

"I had the same thought."

Duncan glanced at Aisling as they danced down the row. She was sitting at the head table. "Do you think Aisling missed one?"

"I can ask, but if they were all in one box, how likely is it that the journal Seren was keeping up to the day she died was accidentally misplaced?"

"You think her killer took it."

Carys was nearly out of breath. "Maybe they thought something in there would give their identity away."

"But to know that, you'd have to know what was in the journals. So the question is" —Duncan kept his voice low— "how many in the castle speak Cymric? Not many, I'd guess. "

"Might not matter. The killer might have taken it on the off chance it contained something of value, whether they could read it or not."

Duncan frowned. "Good point."

Carys and Duncan danced down the front of the hall, passing the head table as they went. Lachlan glanced at her quickly, then looked away. Aisling was next to him, her face solemn. She stared straight ahead, her cheeks still a little red.

If she was anything like Carys, she was reliving her morning embarrassment. Over. And over. And over in her head. It was the curse of the socially anxious. Carys wanted to go talk to her, but she also didn't want to embarrass her further. She saw Lachlan lean over to Aisling, and the woman's expression brightened immediately.

Aisling won't be here forever. Our mother will only allow her to be lovesick for so long.

Carys looked at Aisling. Then at Lachlan. Then quickly away before they noticed her stare.

Oh, she was blind.

She was an idiot.

Was it Lachlan? It had to be Lachlan, didn't it? Regan must have been referring to him when she made the "lovesick" comment.

That was… complicated. And it added a whole new angle to Aisling's relationship with Seren. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was misreading the situation entirely. She looked at Aisling again. Lovesick for Lachlan? Or simply comforted by the goodwill of a lifelong friend.

Duncan had caught the direction of her gaze. "What's wrong with Aisling?"

The dance circled them around again, and the music got louder.

Too much to explain on the dance floor. "Regan said something to embarrass her at breakfast this morning."

"Oh aye, she would," Duncan growled. "That's a viper in the garden. "

"Regan?"

He gave her a quick nod. "She should go to the top of your list. Seren never trusted her."

"Cadell said she was out of the country, remember?"

Duncan sighed. "Dammit. It'd be easier if she'd been the one. You wouldn't even have to convince anyone. Just say ‘Regan killed Seren' and people'd believe ya. No one trusts her."

Carys made a mental note. "Why?"

Duncan leaned down and spoke into Carys's ear, the heat of his breath brushing across her neck. "Seren always said Regan smelled of the fae. She suspected Regan had a fae lover like her mother keeps."

"And that's a bad thing?"

Duncan kept his head close. "When someone is willing to align themselves with fae power, where do their loyalties lie? With the humans of this world? Or the ones who hold power?"

"Does this have something to do with your… extracurricular activities?"

Duncan pulled back, and the corner of his mouth turned up. "I'm going to remember that one. Extracurricular activities." He chuckled a little and led her through the alley of dancers, focusing on dancing for the last strains of the song.

For a few stolen moments, Carys joined him, reveling in the magic of the flaming hearth, the castle walls, and the stomping of the dancers in finery stolen from a fantasy novel.

Where are you, Carys Morgan?

She was in the middle of a fairy tale with all the intrigue, beauty, and humanity of her favorite stories. There were unicorns in the forest and fae in the shadows. There were kings and knights, and more wondrous than anything, there were dragons .

Carys threw her head back and laughed, catching Cadell's stern expression from the side of the room.

What would her mother say if she saw her here? Would the magic of the moment thrill her? Would the mystery intrigue her?

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

The memory of her mother's warning popped into her memory the moment the music stopped.

Duncan cast a glance at the head table and took Carys's arm. "Lachlan looks like he wants to murder me."

"Don't joke about that."

Duncan lifted one dark eyebrow. "Oh? You think he could?"

Carys's breath caught at the danger in his voice. "No. I… I don't know. Let's try not to find out, shall we?" She looked around the room and noticed that Eamer was missing from the head table.

Meet me in the portrait gallery after dinner.

Oh shit. Not after the banquet, after dinner. Which meant she was late.

"Duncan, I need to go."

"Where?"

She looked for Cadell, who gave her a nod. "Cadell knows where I'm going, but I need to go alone. I'm meeting someone."

"Carys, who?" Duncan's fingers were firm on her arm. "Please don't?—"

"It'll be fine, and I'll fill you in later." She looked up at Duncan. "I promise. Cadell will be listening for me."

Duncan looked like he wanted to say something, but he pressed his lips together and gave her a quick nod before he glanced over his shoulder. "Lachlan is watching."

"Fine." She heard her own voice. It was clipped and angry. "He can watch all he wants."