Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

T he banquet that night was a festival of light and music. There were a thousand blue-lit torches hanging in the air, suspended by fae magic, a gift from the same fae lords of the Borderlands who had been at Dafydd and Eamer's welcome banquet. They were there again, eyeing her with even more interest as she sat between Duncan and Cadell.

Cadell had changed his leather armor into a set that was black and threaded through with silver. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes continually swept the banquet hall, moving from the fae attendees to the wolves and back again.

"Something is in the air," he murmured. "Human, do you feel it?"

Duncan leaned forward. "Are you talking to me?"

They were the only guests left at their section of the table as the rest of the revelers had taken to the dance floor.

"Of course I'm talking to you."

"Not really ‘of course.' Carys is human too."

"Not according to the rumbling of the fae at the king's table." Cadell's eyes never left the golden-clad group. "They're speaking among themselves, and they heard about her bargain with the Crow Mother."

Carys kept her voice low and tried to conceal her staring with her wine goblet. "What does that mean? They don't think I'm human? Of course I'm human."

"They don't think you're Brightkin."

"Of course I'm Brightkin. Seren was my Shadowkin, and they all knew her, right?"

"There is something about that bargain…" Cadell looked at Carys, then at Duncan. "Dance with her. I want to observe them."

Duncan cleared his throat and squirmed like an eleven-year-old boy. "Cadell, I don't think Carys?—"

"I'm tired." Just the thought of being in Duncan's arms was… complicated. "And my feet hurt from the other day?—"

"Exactly, her feet." Duncan gestured toward the floor. "I don't know how she didn't break an ankle climbing that mountain."

Carys frowned. "I'm a very experienced hiker."

"I'm just saying that your ankles are quite…" His cheeks flushed a little. "Delicate." He pushed back from the table. "Excuse me."

Duncan stood and stomped away, his burly shoulders disappearing into the crowd.

"Not him too," Cadell muttered.

She could feel her cheeks warming. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Lachlan was bad enough, but the cross human?—"

"Excuse me" —she pushed back from the table too— "I should go find?—"

"Lachlan." Cadell lifted his chin.

"I should find Lachlan?"

"No need." Lachlan's low voice was behind her.

Carys turned and looked up. "Oh."

"I already found you." He held out his arm and smiled. "Shall we dance?"

She looked at Cadell, then at the fae clustered at the head table, whispering among themselves and not pretending to hide their stares .

"That's fine." She nodded. "Good. Yes, we should dance."

I see that your feet have magically healed themselves. Astonishing, Nêrys.

Carys shot him a look that said shut up.

"Excellent." Lachlan took her hand. "We haven't had a chance to dance yet."

"No, we haven't."

As soon as they reached the dance floor, the music changed abruptly from the rousing, foot-stomping pipes and fiddles to a drawn-out waltz that wept with aching strings as the fae singer Naida, who sang on the first night, began a new song.

Lachlan swept her into his arms and guided her into the stream of dancers in the center of the floor. "Do you remember?"

It was the one dance he'd taught her back in Baywood, and it was impossible not to be thrown.

"Yes." Her voice was barely audible, and she found herself looking up into Lachlan's vivid green eyes.

"We danced to this in the living room," he said. "That beautiful night that it was snowing and the moon was full."

"Of course I remember."

It had been like magic, a rare early snow falling on the cedars and the redwoods around the house, the meadow that stretched from the picture window to the forest slowly growing white with drifts. Blue light peeked through the clouds, illuminating the clearing around the house and casting shadows in the trees.

"You told me the story of how your parents met." She glanced at Robb and Elanor, who leaned together at the front of the hall, conspiring and smiling like sweethearts. "You might have left a few things out."

"I didn't lie. It was a match arranged by their families."

"But not to join two powerful companies." She stared at the strong line of his throat. "How did you hide so much, Lachlan?"

"I didn't want to." He leaned closer, touching his forehead to hers. "But do you see how impossible it would have been for me to explain all this?" His arm swept out, and he dipped her back.

Carys was struck dumb, staring at the floating blue candles, the sparkling gold confetti drifting in the air, and the ceiling of the great hall, which had somehow turned to delicately falling snow that smelled of cedar and moonlight.

"Lachlan."

He drew her up slowly and leaned forward, whispering into her ear. "Do you still believe in fairy tales, Carys Morgan?"

She was silent because there was nothing to say. She rested her head on Lachlan's shoulder, dancing under the magical snow and whirling under blue lights that danced over her head.

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

Carys took a deep breath and centered herself, remembering the touch of her mother's fingers on her cheek. The gentle voice in her ear. Don't follow the lights.

"Someone told me," she started, "that you would marry again. That you would have to."

Lachlan's steps faltered a little. "Who told you that?"

"Does it matter?" It probably would have been better if he'd loved Aisling all along. She would make the perfect queen. "Alba needs a queen, doesn't it?" She glanced at Elanor, who was watching Lachlan and Carys with soft eyes. "Your mother has a big job."

"It's one you'd perform excellently." He twirled her around, changing rhythm as the music moved from the waltz to something more lively. "Maybe we've both been focused on the wrong thing." His eyes locked with hers. "Who better than a mythology professor to be queen in a fairy-tale world?"

She scoffed. "What are you saying?"

"When was the last time you missed Baywood?"

"This morning."

He didn't respond to that.

"I miss my friends. And I know they miss you," she whispered. " What am I supposed to tell Laura and Kiersten when I go back without you?"

"I don't know." He turned them in fast circles, wrapping the rhythm of the music around them both. "Maybe you won't have to go back without me."

"Really?" She looked at Robb and Elanor, both of whom were watching the two of them dance. Elanor was beaming and Robb… and he was almost not frowning. "You think they're going to let you go to the Brightlands?"

The music stopped and Lachlan leaned down, his lips inches from hers. "You think they're going to let you go? After they already lost your sister?" He put his arm around her waist and guided her through the crowd. "And what of Dafydd? Eamer?"

"They know my life is there. My home is?—"

"What about Cadell?"

Cadell? The idea of leaving the dragon— her dragon—pierced Carys's chest like an ice pick. What would Cadell do when Carys returned home? "I don't know. I haven't thought about that yet."

"You told me that I was reckless once." Lachlan pressed his cheek to hers and whispered in her ear. "You walk through this world thinking you leave no footsteps, Carys Morgan. But your path here could change everything." He pulled back and stared into her eyes. "Everything."

Things were beginning to break. There were cracks in the air around her, like ice splintering on the surface of a pond. Carys walked through the woods near the unicorn's territory and felt tendrils of magic whispering through the trees.

It was the first time she'd walked in the trees since her bargain with the Crow Mother, and something felt different. Birdsong was quieter. The rustling and snapping felt less ominous and more familiar. She saw lights in the distance, but for the first time in her life, they didn't scare her. They danced like friends, calling her to play in the shadows.

"You're different now."

Carys looked to the left and saw a familiar figure kneeling at the base of a twisted oak tree. She had long dark hair curling past her shoulders with braids woven through it. Her flawless skin was a warm golden brown, and her eyes were brilliant blue.

The fae wore a string of golden hoops up to the tips of her pointed ears, but her clothes were plain and practical. Work clothes, if Carys had to guess.

"I know you." Carys's feet were off the path, and the ground beneath her boots was soft and springy. "Your name is Naida."

"That is what some call me. And those same call you Carys."

"Yes." Carys stepped closer. "You sang at the banquet with Lachlan. You used your magic to make his voice louder."

She was cautious speaking to the fae, but there was something warm and earthy about Naida that welcomed questions.

Careful. She heard Cadell's warning in her mind.

The fae woman looked up. "I mean her no harm, dragon. This land isn't even warded."

"Wait, can you hear him?"

Naida smiled and sat back on her heels. "I'm not like the others here. And yes, I did sing at the banquet. But you are wrong that I sang with Lachlan. The prince needs no one to sing with him. That's where his magic lies."

Carys blinked. "Wait, really?"

Naida pinched a bright blue flower and added it to a woven basket by her knees. "Lachlan was quite jealous of his brother once, but he has learned to use the magic he was gifted." The fae stood, and Carys realized that despite her presence, she was tiny, even shorter than Carys's height.

"I thought all fae were tall."

Naida's eyes danced with amusement. "And I thought all Brightkin were mundane. "

"Trust me, more than one of my professors has said my work was plenty mundane." She looked around the forest. "Wait. Where am I?"

Naida reached to the trunk of the oak and pressed her fingers into the bark. "Near an old fae fort, Nêrys. You don't remember walking here?"

No. Carys didn't remember walking off the path to the blessing, but apparently she had and she hadn't even noticed. Why hadn't Cadell warned her? She glanced up.

"The dragon doesn't see me as a threat." Naida knelt down in another spot. "I told you I'm not like the others."

"What are you doing here?"

"Gathering herbs. And mushrooms." She glanced up and took out a small, curved bone knife. "The knife is for the herbs and the flowers. The herbs that grow over old fae hills are stronger than others."

"Is that why Aisling gathers them around here?"

"I don't know the mageling's habits," Naida said. "But probably." She took the knife to a bunch of wild yarrow, then hooked its tip around a large mushroom that she added to the basket. "What are you doing in the forest?"

"Why did you say that I was different now?"

Naida sat back on her heels. "An answer for an answer?"

Carys nodded.

"You're different because you smell of the Crow Mother," Naida said. "She has marked you." Naida cocked her head. "You smell of someone else too."

"What does that mean?"

Naida raised a single arched eyebrow.

"Right," Carys muttered. "An answer for an answer. I'm in the forest because I'm going to the blessing to talk to Darius. He did me a favor the other day, and I wanted to offer my appreciation."

"And you wanted to escape them."

Carys frowned. "The unicorns?"

"The humans in the castle." Naida smiled a little. "They do not know what you are. Humans don't like that. "

"Right." Carys knelt down and snapped off a mushroom growing among the oak tree's roots. She held it out to Naida. "For you."

"A gift." The fae woman smiled. "I am grateful." She put the mushroom in the basket and turned back to Carys. "Other fae will sense the Crow Mother's mark; they will leave you alone. No fae would harm you with Branwen's mark on your skin."

"Wait, is Branwen actually her name?"

"It's a name she uses where I come from."

"You're not from here?"

Naida smiled but said nothing.

Carys tried to put pieces together. Naida was shorter than the fae in the Borderlands, and her speech was different too.

Wait.

The fae woman's hair was dense and curly. She could hear Cadell's voice, and she was small, muscular, and clearly at home in the forest. Her mother's stories came back to her from a hundred different nights. Mysterious creatures hiding in her canvases, fairies who looked much like Naida.

A familiar warmth grew in Carys's chest. She'd missed seeing Naida for who she was because the setting was wrong. But fae traveled too, and if Carys was right, this one was far from home.

Carys smiled slowly. "Ellyllon." The woman before her wasn't a fae of Alba but one of Cymru. "You're far from home."

Naida's eyes lit up. "It pleases me to hear our name in Cymric even if your accent is not very good, Nêrys Ddraig."

Carys sat across from the elf. "Why are you here? Is that rude? My mother?—"

Naida's eyes glowed. "Did your mother tell you stories of the ellyllon in the Brightlands?"

Carys's smile was impish. "An answer for an answer."

"You learn quickly, Nêrys." Naida set her bone knife down. "A heart will travel great distances for love." She leaned closer to Carys and breathed in. "But when I smell you, it reminds me why I remain here."

"My smell…" She frowned. "Lachlan? "

Naida's laugh danced through the trees. "Not the human." She wrinkled her nose. "Definitely not a human."

What other fae had she been around? Was the bear a fae trapped in an animal's body? It certainly wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened in a story. Carys racked her brain but came up with nothing.

"Yes." She remembered to answer Naida's question. "My mother loved telling me fairy tales." She leaned back against a tree trunk. "I think she liked fairy tales more than facts."

"Perhaps fairy tales were facts to her."

There was a great rumbling roar in the distance like thunder and shrieking rolled into one.

"What was that?" Something about it reminded Carys of the fae bear, and goose bumps rose on her arms.

Naida looked toward the trees. "The water horse is restless today."

Through the trees, Carys could see the silver of the loch glistening in the low light that illuminated the forest. "I saw a woman near the loch once. She was talking with a dark man, and he looked angry."

"He is always angry." Naida stood. "Even Epona's grace will not soothe him."

"Epona?"

"I must go." Naida stood, picked up her basket, and walked toward the oak. "Blessings of the day to you, Nêrys Ddraig."

"But wait, what does Epona…" Carys walked around the oak tree to peer into the forest, but the small fae was gone. "Naida?"

The ellyllon had disappeared into the trees like a shadow melting into night.

"I just don't see it." Duncan had his feet up by the fire, his boots sitting on the hearth while he warmed his wet socks near the flames. "I don't see Aisling capable of murder. Even if she loved Lachlan, I don't see it. "

"Loves." Carys stood and walked over to the fire to hold her hands near the flames. "Very much present tense. And as Naida reminded me, a heart will travel great distances for love."

Duncan stared at the fire. "We both know that's true."

It was raining and the shadows of the night pushed at the shutters in Duncan's cottage at the edge of the forest.

"Aisling loves Lachlan. I kind of think she's loved him her whole life."

"God, that's miserable." Duncan's voice was thick with compassion. "Looking back, I can see it, but she's always been such a quiet thing. A sweet heart in that one." Duncan looked at her. "It can't be Aisling."

"I agree with you."

"Can you imagine? Growing up in the same court, always being there, loving someone and knowing they were in love with someone else?" Duncan looked away. "It's miserable."

Was it? Was Duncan talking about Aisling or something else?

Carys stepped away from the fireplace. "All that, and she can't leave without causing an international incident. It's awful."

Duncan raised his voice a little. "She's in love with your boyfriend, you know. Still pity her?"

"Boyfriend?" She cleared her throat and walked to the table. "Do we really want to call Lachlan…" She shook her head. "I'm not jealous of Aisling. I feel for her."

"Och," Duncan rumbled. "I hope you didn't use that tone with her. Pity's worse than hatred to a proud heart. And she does have a proud heart."

Carys stared through the cracks in the window, but the rain didn't seem to let up even a little. "Do you think Cadell can fly in all this?"

"God above, he's a dragon, not a wee bird." Duncan stood and walked over to join her at the table. "Stop fussing over the beast."

"If he's cold and uncomfortable, he'll just be crankier when he gets here."

Duncan picked up a red leather journal and started to page through it. He turned to a page that Carys had already examined. "What's this?"

Angus's translation of the books only worked for Carys. "That's Seren's second-to-final journal, but the sketches are from a survey run she and Cadell did on the islands to the west. She has some notes about how many of them are inhabited. The current populations. That kind of thing."

Duncan frowned. "I don't recognize these."

"Really?" She looked at where he was pointing. "Which ones?"

"The ones she's highlighted in this sketch." He angled the page toward Carys. "Look here. These are the Hebrides." He pointed to the islands west of Alba but north of éire. "But look down here. The ones she marked in red. There are islands south of the Hebrides that don't exist on maps of Scotland. North of éire but jumping east toward Alba."

"Are these islands old? Maybe they weren't eroded in this world but they were in ours."

"But why highlight them?" Duncan raised an eyebrow. "What does it say?"

Carys read the tiny notes in the margins of the sketch. "Nothing much. Just notes on people and livestock, I think. Uh… ‘Forty houses. Fifteen flocks. Five herds.' She was counting sheep and cattle, I think."

"On islands that don't exist on other maps." He frowned. "Who could create land? And how?"

"The fae?" Carys took the journal. "They have elemental power, right? Maybe links with sea deities?"

"Or a very powerful mage." Duncan lifted an eyebrow. "Humans can have powerful magic here. Don't underestimate them."

"Do you know a mage with that much power?"

Duncan shrugged. "I don't, but I don't know many mages at all."

Carys thought about the one mage she knew. "Regan's a mage."

"Yes, and she has an alibi for when Seren was killed."

"But what if she hired someone?" Carys lifted the red journal. " You'd do something that extreme if you were trying to keep a big secret hidden."

"Okay." Duncan nodded. "Is she capable? Of course she is. She's a menace. But how could an assassin have gotten close enough to try? Seren would never let down her guard around someone she didn't know."

"I don't know." Carys deflated a little bit. "I'll read through them again. Look for any mention of Regan's name. Or anyone who was new to the castle."

There was a quiet tapping at the door at odds with the fury of the storm outside. Carys turned to Duncan. "Expecting company?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Auld Mags isn't bothered by the weather most times, but maybe there's a leak in the shed."

"You make your brownie live in the shed?"

"She wants to live in the shed." Duncan scowled. "She has the run of the place when I'm not here. It's hardly even my house." He walked to the door and cracked it open. A lash of rain swept across the threshold and gusted damp leaves inside.

On the stoop there was a package wrapped in oiled cloth and bound with leather straps. Duncan picked it up.

"What is it?"

He picked a black feather from the leather bindings. "I think your fae bargain came through."