Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A t first the passage from the dim light outside the cabin to the darkness inside was jarring, but within a few seconds, Carys's eyes adjusted to the warm glow of the fire in the center of the room. There was a round stone fireplace with a large open hearth, slate grey and hung with pots, spoons, and clay bowls that dangled from hooks pressed into the mortar between the rocks.

Something that smelled delicious was bubbling from a pot hanging over the fire, and a woman with dark curling hair was bent over, stirring it.

"You're cold." The woman stood and turned, a warm smile resting on her face.

She was middle-aged and matronly, a homely apron covering her woven green dress. She wore a kind of bandanna in her hair that covered her ears and held back the dark curls that fell to the middle of her back. Her hands appeared rough and callused from work.

Hardly the powerful fae that Carys had been expecting, but that was likely the point.

"Can I get you a bowl of stew?" the woman asked. "I prepared it this morning. "

"No." She didn't even think of thanking her or taking food from a fae. "You are kind to offer it, but no."

The woman's dark eyes glittered. "You smell of the sun and redwood trees and green and growing things, human."

"You know redwood trees?"

"Most nêrys ddraig smell of smoke and bronze and blood." The woman turned back to the pot on the hearth. "You're not what I expected."

"You're not what I expected either."

"I'll take that as a compliment." The woman swung the arm holding the pot away from the fire and rested on the bench placed in front of the hearth. She motioned to the stool across from her. "Sit if you would like. Your feet are sore."

Did this count as accepting hospitality? It probably didn't matter because Carys felt her feet move to the stool, almost against her will. She was exhausted and afraid.

"Your friend took something of mine."

Carys looked to the door, but she couldn't seem to find it in the shadows of the cottage. "He borrowed a walking stick to help him on the path."

"Hmm." The woman pursed her full, rosy lips. "Perhaps he will explain that to Orick."

Carys felt the same floating sensation in her head that she remembered from the pub in Scotland when she sat across from Dru and reached over to pinch her wrist to keep her mind clear. The sharp pain did the trick, and the floating sensation went away.

The woman caught the motion, and her dark eyebrows went up. "You don't trust me, but you come to ask me for a favor."

Carys sat across from the woman. "What can I call you?"

The fae woman smiled. "You may call me Crow Mother, which is the name I use on this mountain. Or you can call me Branwen, a name beloved by your people."

"Is Branwen your name? "

"Of course it isn't." Branwen leaned forward. "But you knew that already. What can I call you?"

"Nêrys works." Nêrys was a title, not her name. That was a safe option to give the fae.

"But your name is Carys, and you're the Brightkin of Seren."

Carys racked her brain, trying to figure out how to reply. "Seren was my sister."

"She is . She's only in the underworld, dear." Branwen kicked out her feet. "It's not that bad a place. No dragons though. I'm sure that's driving you crazy. Driving her crazy." The woman waved a hand. "I have difficulty telling the two of you apart, which is interesting."

Was it?

Carys thought about how to proceed. "Have you met my dragon?" Questions seemed to be a safe bet as long as they were polite. It never paid to be rude to the fae. "Seren's dragon?"

"Cadell of Eryri?" A smile curved the corner of her lips. "Son of Ffion the White? Brother of Emyr the Great? I know your dragon, Nêrys. Do you know him?"

Carys answered carefully. "I am getting to know him."

"A Brightkin with magic." Branwen leaned forward and sniffed. "You smell of more than just the sun and old giants." She narrowed her eyes. "What a fascinating thing you are."

You have the smell of the sun and the shadow at once. It was what Angus had told her, and Carys found it interesting that this powerful fae also perceived something different about her scent.

"I do love the smell of humans," Branwen continued. "The older ones are too tough for my palate, but the young?" She smiled. "Delicious."

Carys's stomach turned, but she knew the fae was trying to get a reaction from her, trying to stoke her anger. "Your house is very comfortable."

"How do you find your time in the Shadowlands? Is it very different? "

"Yes." Carys looked out a small window, but there was nothing but grey fog visible through the milky glass. "I miss the sun."

"The sun." Branwen's eyes glittered. "I would like to see the sun."

Would you? It surprised Carys that the powerful fae hadn't seen the sun before. Then again, maybe she'd never found a human to take her through a gate.

Carys brought the jar of honey from her pocket and placed it at Branwen's feet. "I brought you a gift. I'm looking for something. You might know where it is."

Branwen picked up the honey and eyed the fine white jar that Duncan had stolen from the kitchen. "Honey is a good gift. I am pleased."

"I'm glad you like it."

Branwen's smile crept around the corners of her mouth. "You seek your sister's murderer. I cannot tell you who it is."

"And I wouldn't ask you to," Carys said. "My sister kept journals. One of them is missing."

Branwen played ignorant. "What a pity. It might have been lost. Or destroyed."

"It's possible that it's gone," Carys said. "But someone told me you are skilled in finding lost things."

Branwen leaned back and hummed in the back of her throat. "My crows find many things as they fly. Babies, rings, broken things." She cocked her head. "If they were to find something that belonged to Seren, I would give it to you."

"Why?"

"Because you are her sister."

"And what would you want from me?"

"A simple exchange. Your service to me for a year and a day." The woman reached over to the stew and stirred it. "A very reasonable trade."

A year and a day could mean anything to the fae. A year in a fairy fort could be a thousand years in the human world. Even if Carys were willing to give up a year of her life, she knew not to take that offer .

"I don't have that time to spare," Carys said. "I'm trying to find my sister's killer."

"Pity." The woman looked over at Carys from the corner of her eye. "Perhaps my crows have already found this thing you seek. It would be a shame to lose it when your sister's killer is close."

"Is he? Or she?"

The woman only smiled. "Your firstborn child then. Give it to me and I will hand over the one who poisoned your sister. You will have no need of a journal if the murderer's head is delivered to you."

Carys's eyes went wide. "What?"

"I won't eat the child," Branwen explained. "If I wanted to eat a human child, I could just go to the gates. I would take good care of it. Like a pet. But I have need of a natural child born in the Brightlands, so I will take that in exchange."

Carys blinked, pushing back the fog that seemed to gather around her. "Does anyone actually agree to a bargain like that?"

Branwen's eyes shone. "Kings and queens have agreed to that bargain, Nêrys Ddraig. My gifts are a powerful lure." She looked Carys up and down. "You're young and healthy. Surely you could have many."

"All the same, I can't offer you a child."

"One eye then." Branwen pursed her lips. "Only one. Your eyes are blue like the sky in the Brightlands. I would like to keep one."

"I am not giving you an eye."

"Hmm." Branwen seemed disappointed. "Honey is a pleasant gift, but what about the bees' queen? Can you bring me the queen of all the bees?"

The queen of all the bees? Branwen was asking for the impossible. "I can bring more honey and ripe apples. I can bring you fresh milk. I can bring you a cow so you would have milk every day."

Duncan would help her find a cow. Right?

She thought about offering one of Cadell's dragon scales, but that wasn't something of her own, and who knew what a fae could do with a dragon scale ?

"Apples?" Branwen looked interested. "Your lover's Brightkin has apple trees behind his house, does he not?"

Carys tried not to show her surprise at Branwen's knowledge of Duncan. "Yes, my friend has apple trees."

"Then I will take whatever little bird sits in the apple tree behind the Brightkin's house." Branwen smiled innocently. "Surely one little bird is a good exchange for a valuable journal that belonged to your Shadowkin."

Carys remembered an old folk story of a promise made to a trickster, only instead of a bird in the tree, a farmer had lost his daughter, who had climbed into a tree to pick some apples. Who knew what was in Duncan's tree right now? Whatever was in there, Carys was betting that it wasn't a robin.

The fae wouldn't take a cow. Honey wasn't enough. She definitely wasn't giving her a year of service, her firstborn child, or one of her eyes.

Do it. It's the only thing of value you have.

Do it for Seren.

"You want to see the sun." It was the one thing that Carys could offer, the one thing that belonged to her that a powerful fae might want.

Branwen's eyes lit up. "I do want to see the sun."

What could one fae do in the Brightlands? Even a powerful one wouldn't be able to use magic. And Branwen would hardly be the only fae to cross the gates. The soldiers who had taken Lachlan were fae mercenaries, but they'd had to use force, not magic.

It was Carys's single bargaining chip, and she was using it, but she knew she had to be specific.

"I am not looking for just anything that belonged to my sister," Carys said clearly. "I am looking for the journal that Seren was writing at the time she died. Only that journal."

"And if my crows found this journal, what would you give me in return? "

"If you bring me Seren's last journal, I will take you through the fae gate to see the sun."

There was an eager murmur from the shadows of the cottage, but Carys refused to look. She kept her eyes on Branwen, who met her gaze.

"Then we have a bargain." The fae woman smiled. "You're a clever human, Carys. And you do look like your mother."

Carys's eyes went wide. "What did you say?"

Smoke from the fire billowed through the cottage, but it wasn't smoke, and it wasn't a cottage after all. She felt her stomach drop as the world dissolved around her. The fog unfurled, wrapping cold fingers around her throat and choking off any shout she might have made. It held her in its cold grip for a few seconds, and then it drifted away with a sharp breeze, leaving Carys at the summit of the hill, a crumbling stone castle on the other side of the clearing and a unicorn waiting near the trees.

A familiar voice whispered in her mind. I will see you soon.

She shook her legs loose from the chill of the fog and started walking toward Darius, who was still in unicorn form, just as Duncan ran panting to the top of the hill.

Carys's heart leaped. "You're alive!"

"What were you thinking?" He ran and gripped her by the shoulders. "What were you thinking, Carys?" His face was twisted in torment, and a deep claw mark scraped down the side of his face.

"I…" She frowned. "I talked to her. That's what I came here to do. I didn't want?—"

"You shouldn't have faced her alone!" He shook her by the shoulders. "What did you promise her?"

Darius eyed them, tossed his head, then turned to walk down the hill, leaving them in his dust .

The fog wrapped around Carys's legs and arms, chilling any piece of exposed skin. "Can we walk back? I'm freezing."

"Not until you tell me what you promised her," Duncan growled.

"Here?" Exhaustion was quickly overtaken by anger. "Right here?" She wrenched herself away from him and turned to survey the broken castle. "Right here in the middle of her hill? Really, Duncan?"

He swallowed hard, released her shoulders, and turned, holding his arm out to the side and motioning toward the path. "My lady."

He said it to antagonize her, but she refused to take the bait.

They walked in silence, passing the clearing where the bear had attacked him.

"Carys, wait."

She turned to look over her shoulder, and Duncan's face was grim.

"Let me go first," he said. "Please. In case something is on the path."

He walked past her, limping a little; the wound on his cheek was red and angry.

Her anger died down when she saw him trying to hide the pain. "Do you have anything for that cut?"

"Aisling will have something back in Sgàin." His voice was clipped, and he didn't elaborate how he'd survived the bear, how he'd managed to fight his way to the top of the hill, or what he might have promised a fae-powered bear named Orick while she'd been meeting with the Crow Mother.

The stick that had caused the attack lay at the base of a pine tree, covered in blood. There were black marks in the soil and blood smeared on the rocks.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt too badly," she said quietly.

"Are you?" he snapped. "Maybe you should have gone back to the horses when I told you then instead of being a stubborn, reckless?—"

"I wasn't being reckless." Anger banked at a slow simmer quickly rose to a boil. "I was listening to Darius, who told me I might not get another chance to meet the Crow Mother. It's not my fault you picked up a fucking stick in a fairy murder forest! "

Duncan spun, stepping back up the path until they were face-to-face. "Do you even know what could have happened to you? You could have disappeared for a hundred years. You could be dead. You could have given away your only child to be her snack for tea." His face went pale. "Oh God, please don't tell me you?—"

"Do you think I'm that big an idiot?" She shoved his shoulder. "Do you think I don't know even a little bit about how to talk to the fae after all the books I've read and all the stories?—"

"A week and a half ago, you thought all that was fiction!" He grabbed her hand. "I never should have brought you here. I should have kicked you out and dealt with the police and told them you were having a mental breakdown if they came calling. God knows I should never have brought you here."

"Oh, fuck you!" She tried to walk past him, but he had her hand in an iron grip. "Let me go."

"No."

She leaned in. "You think I would have given up if you told the police I was a lunatic? Then you don't know me. At all."

Duncan's face twisted. "You really love Lachlan that much?"

"I wanted to know the truth!"

You don't love that one. Not really. She blinked at the memory of Angus's words, but she didn't break her staring match with Duncan.

"So you found the truth." Duncan dropped her hand and spread his arms. "And all of this along with it. Ready to play queen yet? Ready to fall into Lachlan's arms and live your life in this place? Ready to abandon our world like he wants you to?"

"No!"

Duncan lifted his chin. "Oh wait, he doesn't want you to do that, does he?"

Carys could feel the heat pouring off Duncan's body. Steam rose around his neck, and the brilliant green eyes that usually towered over her were directly in line with her own because of the slope of the hill.

They were face-to-angry-face.

"He wants you on the side." Duncan gritted his teeth. "Because he will marry again, Carys. You know that, don't you? He'll have to. Robb isn't going to leave that political opportunity in the dirt." Duncan shook his head. "Lachlan will take another bride, and it's not going to be you."

The truth of it hit her like a punch in the gut. "Fuck you. I may not know how I feel about your brother right now, but?—"

"So why did you sleep with him?" Duncan yelled. "After everything he's put you through! After all the lies he told you. Lachlan—" He bit back the words.

Carys blinked. "How did you…" She frowned. "Are you jealous ? You don't even like me."

"Fuck you." He laughed a little. "Fuck you for being so damn blind, Carys. Just…" He let out a growl of frustration and lifted his arms, gripping his neck.

Carys could see his knuckles were bruised and bloody. Part of her wanted to hold them because she couldn't imagine the pain, but she was so angry it burned in her chest.

"What?" She scoffed. "You think because Lachlan and Seren loved each other in this world that I owe you?—"

"You owe me nothing ." He drilled his brilliant green gaze into hers. "You owe neither of us a damn thing." He stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking the cold wind that swept up the mountain path. "But… yes. How could I not wonder?" Duncan lifted his hand and his cold, bruised fingers hovered over her cheek. "All the years seeing them together, seeing how much they loved each other. I wanted…"

"You wanted?" Carys's mind went blank. She wanted to feel his fingers on her face. They would be callused and rough, and a deep, yearning part of her wanted to know the scrape of those calluses on her skin.

"Souls are drawn together," he said softly, "in this place." He searched her eyes. "Call it fate or destiny or?—"

"You're saying…" She felt a strange tug in her gut. "You're saying that you and me? You think we should have been?—"

"It doesn't matter what I thought." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

But something very deep in Carys's soul told her it did matter. Very much.

"Do you feel it?" His words were slow and halting. He held his hands back, not quite touching her face as he leaned closer. "Here. Now. Even a little?"

His lips hovered an inch from hers, their breath frosting out and mingling with the dense fog that blanketed the forest. They were lost in the woods, strangers in the shadows, and he felt solid and real like nothing else did.

"Yes." She spoke the word, and a moment later Duncan's lips were on hers, his hands still holding back. His mouth was bruised and bloody, but that didn't stop him from commanding the kiss from the moment their lips met.

She put her hands on his warm neck, and his skin was so hot she nearly felt her fingers burn. He flinched at the contact but pressed harder into the kiss, opening his mouth to deepen his taste. When their tongues touched, she tasted his blood.

"No." Carys drew back and closed her eyes. "You're hurt and we can't do this."

Duncan's dark eyebrows drew together. "You owe him nothing . He lied to you in so many ways."

She took a step back and put a fist over her chest. "But he's still here ."

Duncan took another step back, and his smile was bitter. "In all the years Lachlan and Seren were together, I never went looking for you." Duncan swallowed hard. "I thought if it was meant, you would find me." He lifted his hand and looked at it, frowning at the blood and the dirt that caked his knuckles. "But he found you first."

Carys was confused, and part of her was still angry. Angry with Lachlan for the lies, angry with Duncan for… she wasn't quite sure what. Angry with herself for being some kind of prize between two competing brothers .

"I'm not doing this." She stepped back and shook her head. "Yell at me some more if you want, but um…" She swallowed hard. "I did what I had to do to find my sister's journal." She stepped past him and walked down the path, her broad strides eating up the distance to the bottom of the hill. "And I'm not going to apologize."

The moment she crossed the fae wards, Cadell swooped down and plucked her up in the grip of his massive claws.