Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

S he fell asleep in Duncan's bed that night, the black leather journal that had been the last her sister wrote lying next to her pillow. She tossed and turned, her sleep fitful as the storm outside lashed the forest and rain beat on the heavy thatched roof.

In the middle of the night, there was a hand on her shoulder.

"Peace, Carys."

The hand was warm and heavy, smelling of ash and oiled leather.

She stilled, and the low voice that sang to her lulled her into a deeper sleep.

Carys stood on the edge of the forest, watching her mother.

"Don't," she whispered. "Daddy says it's dangerous."

Tegan Morgan turned to look over her shoulder. "Your father isn't like us, cariad." She turned back to the forest where a doe with two small fawns slowly padded from between the trees. "The animals don't know him like they know us."

Carys stood frozen as the doe walked slowly toward her mother, who held a hand out to the creature and murmured something under her breath.

The deer turned toward Tegan, putting her snout into the woman's waiting palm. The animal bent her head and gave her mother a not-so-gentle headbutt.

Carys walked closer as her mother petted the animal. The deer angled its head to spy her before it turned back to Tegan. All the while, the two spotted fawns waited near their mother on wobbly legs.

"See?" Her mother smiled and stroked the deer. "She doesn't fear us."

"Why not?"

"We smell of wild things, my treasure." Her mother whispered something in Welsh that Carys didn't understand.

Her parents only spoke Welsh when they didn't want her to understand something. Carys knew a few words, but not like her mother. Welsh was the language her mother dreamed in. At least that's what Tegan said.

"Come." Her mother held out her hand. "Come say hello."

Carys walked over and saw a flock of finches flitting from branch to branch, moving closer to the deer on the edge of the forest. Within minutes they had landed on branches in the cedar tree above them, darting up and down and flying in circles around Tegan's head.

"Pretty little things," Tegan murmured. "Do you see them, Carys?"

"Yes."

More birds gathered around the edge of the forest, a small army of songbirds and snappy blue jays hopping and fluttering along the border of the trees, flashing their bright feathers as they swarmed Tegan, Carys, and the three deer.

"We should get them some corn," Carys said. "At school, the teacher said deer like corn."

"No, they don't need that." Tegan stroked her hand down the doe's neck. "She needs wild food to feed her babies. Leaves and soft twigs. Mushrooms and ferns."

"And your flowers from the garden?"

Tegan's laugh tinkled in the sunlight. "Yes, and definitely those too."

The doe lowered her head and nudged her fawns closer.

Carys stayed very still. "She's showing you her babies. "

"I am honored, mother." Tegan whispered to the deer again. "She will bless you with a safe summer, sister. I know it."

"Who?" Carys wanted to get closer, but she heard her father's cautious voice in her mind, warning her that wild animals were wild, not pets. "Who will bless the deer?"

"The forest," Tegan said. "Mother Nature. The spirits of this place."

"Like ghosts?"

Tegan smiled. "No, not at all like ghosts." She patted the doe's cheeks once more before she stepped back and waved her arms for the deer to go. "Ghosts are of the underworld. The dead world. And we are very much alive, aren't we?"

Carys lifted her arms as her mother swooped down and picked her up, swinging her around in the middle of the meadow while the birds fluttered and chirped around them.

"My daughter." Tegan kissed her cheeks as she set her feet back on the ground. "My gift. My perfect, perfect gift."

Carys woke, and dim light was peeking through the shuttered windows.

"You slept hard." Duncan stood near the fire where he was feeding more wood into the flames. "Were you warm enough?"

There were heavy wool blankets piled on top of her, more blankets than she remembered when she went to sleep.

"Yeah." She sat up. "Sorry I took your bed."

"It's fine. I slept by the fire." He stood and brushed the ash from his hands. "The storm was ugly last night, and we need to take the journal to the forge this morning so Angus can translate it. No use going to the castle just to walk back in all that mud." He pointed to the table. "Apples and cheese. No bread, I'm sorry to say, though I could run into town and grab some if you want."

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "From a baker who's a software engineer in Scotland or something? "

Duncan smiled, muffling a yawn of his own. "No, she's a midwife for NHS."

"Buns in the oven," Carys said. "One way or another."

Duncan chuckled a little. "I'm going to remember that."

Carys slid out of the bed and walked to the table, carrying the journal with her. "I had a dream about my mother. It was so vivid."

"Hmm." He glanced at the bed. "It took you a while to get to sleep."

"I was tired, but I couldn't make my brain shut off."

"I never sleep well in unfamiliar places," he muttered. "Don't blame you. I think Cadell is sleeping on the roof."

She looked over at Duncan. He was rumpled, his short hair mussed in the front and his beard tangled. He'd taken off his heavy wool sweater to sleep, and the shirt beneath it was open at the neck.

"Keep looking at me that way" —his voice rumbled like soft thunder— "and I'll forget all my strict rules about patience."

She looked away. "Sorry."

"Remind you of him?"

"No." She couldn't say it fast enough. "I wouldn't worry about my ever getting you and your brother confused."

"I could say the same thing about you and Seren."

She looked up. "That's the point, right? Our Shadowkin are our secret selves. Our opposites. The feral twins."

Duncan stepped closer. "Are they? Tell me, Carys Morgan, who's the more feral? Lachlan or me?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She picked up an apple and the journal. "We should get going to the forge."

The úruisg stared at the journal that Carys held out, examining the ruined pages. "It was thrown in the loch."

"Possibly," Carys said.

"No, definitely."

"Can you make it readable? "

"Can Epona revive her daughters?"

Carys narrowed her eyes. "Yes?"

Angus shook his head. "That was a rhetorical question, Brightkin. But one you should think about." He snapped the book closed and handed it back to her. "Here."

"You're not going to translate it for me?"

"I did." Angus trod on his graceful goat legs over to Duncan. "The dragon isn't with her."

Carys immediately flipped open the journal, then closed it when she recognized the words. She didn't want to be rude and read in front of them.

Well, she wanted to, but she wouldn't. Duncan had warned her that úruisg were easily offended, so she didn't want to chance it.

"Carys is safe with me right now, and being human tires Cadell." Duncan was plucking hammers from the wall and hanging them in different places. "Why do you live to irritate me?"

"Because you put them in the wrong places." Angus snatched a wooden tool from Duncan's hand. "Stop playing with my forming hammers."

"This is my forge, Angus."

"Of course it is." The úruisg hung the wooden hammer back on the wall. "And I organize it for you."

Duncan muttered something under his breath.

Carys tried to be polite. "How is the progress on the sword? Is it… swordlike?"

Angus stared at her through his ropy grey hair. "You're an odd human. I'll be finished soon. The blade is done."

"Is it?" Duncan's head swung around like a startled owl. "Let's see then."

Angus scowled. "It's not a sword yet."

"It's a blade. I want to see it."

"So do I." Carys felt oddly territorial over this sword now that she knew where the úruisg and the blacksmith were getting their iron. "It's Cadell's sword too."

"Like the dragon needs another weapon," Angus muttered. He ambled over to a blackened set of shelves piled with stones, random glass and pottery, and stacked leather scraps. He flipped down the back of one shelf and withdrew a wrapped object around a yard in length.

Carys sidled next to Duncan. "Do you know how to fight with a sword?"

"Surprisingly yes." Duncan glanced at her. "But it'll be better when I can train with this blade. Bronze has a different weight than steel, and I'll have to adjust." He reached out and took the wrapped object from Angus. Then he lifted it, holding it balanced on one palm. "We were right to add more weight."

"Take it out of the leather, you idiot. You can't tell anything right now."

Duncan set the blade on the worktable and carefully unwrapped the sword. He took a deep breath and looked at Angus. "This feels… important."

Angus huffed. "It took over three years to gather the iron for this blasted thing. Of course it's important."

Duncan pulled back the cloth to reveal a dull grey blade that Carys hardly thought was very impressive, but by the look on Duncan's face, he was pleased. He held his massive arm out straight from his body, the metal in one hand.

"It's good, Angus. It's perfect."

"The balance is exactly right for your height and weight." The creature loped over to Duncan and looked the weapon up and down. "Give me two days to finish it and wrap the handle and you'll have a blade the fae will hate you for."

"Excellent."

"And why are we trying to antagonize the fae again?" Carys looked from Angus to Duncan.

"Why not?" Angus shrugged.

Duncan lifted the sword and held it up. The grey blade looked more than sharp. It looked lethal, and so did Duncan.

"Because the Shadowlands is a fae realm at the end of the day, and they play with humans like we are puppets." Duncan stretched the sword out straight, feeling the weight of the blade in his hand. "I may not have magic. But I'll have this."

Carys wanted nothing more than to hide in Duncan's cottage and read Seren's final journal immediately, but she knew that after a full day being gone, her absence would be noted. So she carefully packed the last journal into her bag and walked back to the castle with Duncan and Cadell.

A messenger came running as soon as they arrived. "Lord Duncan, the king requested your presence in the south hall as soon as you returned to the castle.

"Great." Duncan looked at Carys and Cadell. "I'll see you later." He glanced at the bag over her shoulder. "Be careful."

"I will." She looked to her left. "I have Cadell."

I am here.

Though the dragon didn't speak, he nodded solemnly at Duncan.

Cadell was clearly annoyed that he had to stay in human form, but he was also determined to remain near Carys, especially now that she had Seren's final book hidden in her bag.

"Good." Duncan's gaze lingered on Cadell for a moment before he turned back to Carys. "Send a messenger if you need me."

"I will." Carys started up the stairs, glancing at the massive statue of the twin unicorns in front of the great hall. "Why does Robb summon Duncan when he obviously dislikes him?"

"I think Robb finds the cross human useful." It is the úruisg.

She frowned. "What?"

The reason that Robb will never banish Duncan from Sgàin is because of the úruisg. Angus is fond of Lachlan's Brightkin, and úruisg are known to be very loyal. If Robb drove Duncan away, Angus would abandon the Moray family, and Robb believes that would cause them bad luck .

Carys reached the top of the stairs with Cadell and turned left. "Is he right?"

Likely yes. I also suspect that Robb knows that Duncan is secretly forging iron.

"That's not good."

It is immaterial. Robb is power hungry, and he will see iron as an advantage. As long as he can plausibly deny knowing about it should the fae ever find out.

"So he's antagonistic to Duncan in public." She kept her voice low. "But secretly he wants him to be here."

"You're perceptive, Nêrys."

"Oh." She laughed a little. "Trust me, nothing is more political than a university campus. This is practically straightforward compared to budget fights in the humanities department."

"I do not know what that means."

"And you should pray that you never do." She reached her door and opened it, only to find Lachlan waiting inside.

Cadell turned to Carys and gave her a brief nod. "I will go stretch my wings."

"That's…" She tried to say it wasn't necessary, but the stormy look on Lachlan's face told her that some privacy was probably a good idea. "Okay. I'll see you later."

Call for me and I will come immediately.

"Cadell." Lachlan nodded to the dragon before Cadell stepped out onto the ledge outside Carys's window and transformed.

The gust of wind shook the windows, and Carys set her bag down on the middle of the bed. "Hello, Lachlan."

He was pacing and trying not to. He kept walking, then stopping. It made him look like a windup toy running out of energy. "You spent the night at Duncan's."

"Yes. I didn't want to walk through gale-force winds and driving rain. Call me soft."

That made him stop and stare. "You're saying it was only because of the weather?"

"And you're assuming it's not?" She felt exhaustion creeping up on her and her patience was thin. She took a deep breath. "You're jealous of your brother."

"Of course I am." He bit out the words. "I see how he looks at you."

"Do you?" Carys narrowed her eyes. "You're perceptive that way? Because I'm beginning to think you're kind of clueless."

"What does that mean?" His jaw tensed. "I'm clueless?"

"Aisling."

He lifted his chin, rearing back slightly at the name. "Sere— Carys." Lachlan quickly corrected himself, but the slip was impossible to miss.

Carys's jaw dropped. "Oh." She stepped back. "Ohhhh."

His face went carefully blank. "I misspoke. You know I'm talking to you."

"Do you know you're talking to me?" She let out a sharp breath. "Wow. I was wondering when that was going to happen. I mean, it happened a couple of times back in California, but I didn't really think anything about it because of course you were going to misspeak sometimes. You were married for years. I excused it because…" She let out a long breath. "I didn't know."

"Carys." Lachlan strode over and took her by the shoulders. "I love you. And I loved Seren. You accepted that once without question."

"When I didn't know she was my twin," Carys said. "Do you seriously think that doesn't change anything for me? How could it not?"

"How could you look at Duncan the way you do?" His hands tightened, and he dropped them from her shoulders. "I thought you disliked him. Do you… Don't you see what he's doing? He's always been jealous of me. He's trying to come between us."

"I'm not going to talk to you about Duncan." She felt her cheeks grow warm. "I don't know how I feel about either of you right now. I want to talk about Aisling."

"Aisling…" Lachlan let out an exasperated breath. "It's an infatuation, Carys. It doesn't mean anything. She's had this affection in her heart since we were children. "

"Lachlan, she's nearly thirty years old." Carys spoke softly. "This is not an infatuation. The woman is in love with you."

"It doesn't matter. Seren saw it as clearly as you, but she knew that I've never felt that way about Aisling. I couldn't. I loved Seren. Always." He walked toward her, his hands held out. "And now I love you."

"Because she's not here." Carys closed her eyes even as Lachlan took her hands in his.

"Who? Aisling?" He scoffed. "Aisling is nothing to me. A sister more than a woman."

"No, you don't…" She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at Lachlan's chest where it rose and fell with his breath. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I'd met Duncan before I met you?"

Lachlan was silent.

Carys looked up. "Do you?"

"I…" He closed his eyes and shook his head a little. "I don't know why you're asking that. You didn't meet him first, you met me. It makes no?—"

"Cadell tells me that souls find each other. That souls are drawn to their lovers on either side of the shadow. That's why so many marriages are the same here and in Scotland. So if you and Seren were meant here, does that mean?—"

"Did Duncan tell you this? Did he put this idea in your head?" Lachlan bent down and forced her eyes to his. "He's trying to confuse you."

"Is he?" Her voice was quiet. "Or is he trying to protect me?"

Lachlan stepped back. "So that's all then?" He lifted a hand, clenched it in a fist, then let it drop. "That's all there is for us?"

"I don't know." He was getting her off track. "Talk to me about Aisling and Seren."

"You think Aisling killed my wife?" Lachlan let out a rueful laugh. "Aisling, of all people. Aisling adored Seren. They were as close as sisters."

"Sisters fight." She didn't know from personal experience, but she'd seen Laura and her siblings. No one fought more viciously than siblings. "Brothers fight."

"Brothers are going to fight about this," Lachlan muttered. "Forget Aisling. As soon as Regan is finished with her mage training, Aisling will be married to some minor but strategic Anglian lord to shore up her family's trade position. Nothing you or I say will change that. She's Orla's granddaughter; that's her role."

Carys frowned. "What? I thought she was going to be a mage."

"That may be what Aisling wants —that's what her mother wanted—but that's not going to happen. Aisling's mother was married off to a boorish Anglian, and her daughter will be too."

"That's not what Aisling said."

Lachlan crossed his arms. "Well, that's what's going to happen."

Carys remembered Aisling's bright eyes when they spoke in the library. Seren and I used to talk about it all the time. Once I'm a mage, there will be positions available to me in other courts.

Had Aisling only been wishing? Did she know her fate like Lachlan claimed, or was she clinging to hope that things could be different?

Maybe Aisling had other plans.

Maybe Seren had been part of those plans.

Seren and I used to talk about it all the time.

Like Lachlan, Seren must have known what would happen to Aisling once she was of no more use in Alba. She hadn't tempted the Alban prince, but she could always be married off to another. It didn't matter what Aisling wanted.

I might even travel to the continent if I could fly by coracle. Seren promised…

What if Seren's promises were what got her killed? If Seren—heir to the Cymric throne—had made plans to get Aisling away from Alba and spoil her family's plans for her, that would have been an international incident of massive proportions.

"Where's Aisling?" Carys asked Lachlan. "Where is she right now?"