Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

T he sky was unnaturally dark for midday, awash in deep blue and moody purple. The forest loomed in front of her, beckoning with narrow paths that ran through the trees. She strode down from Tower Ridge, glimpsing the silver loch in the distance and arguing with Cadell as he flew overhead.

Let me put on my human body and come with you.

"She won't talk if you're there." Carys knew it in her gut. "She'll talk to me. I'm Seren's Brightkin, but she won't talk to you."

I do not like this. The sky is ominous.

"The sky is…" She looked up. "There's probably another storm coming and it's dark because there's no fucking sun in this place and I swear if I don't see some actual sunlight soon, this pale skin is going to become translucent." She started to stomp. "If you want to be helpful, just hang back up by the tower and wait for me. You'll be close enough for me to call, right?"

There has not been a moment since I found you that I have not been close enough to call save for your reckless trek to see the fae sorceress.

"You call it reckless, I call it productive." She patted the journal in her pocket. She'd left her bag in her room at the castle, but she wasn't leaving Seren's last journal unguarded. Luckily the tunic she was wearing had deep pockets sewn into the front. "Stay close and let me talk to her."

You truly think that Seren's plans to help Aisling escape marriage might have been the reason she was killed?

"Aisling has hopes and dreams and… talent. Seren saw that." A quick skim of the last journal had made that clear. "There was no way that my sister was going to let her closest friend here get married off if she didn't want it."

Political marriages are the fate of the ruling class. Personal arrangements are usually respected because of it.

"What, like having a mistress on the side?" Carys scoffed. "That's a risk men can take, not women."

Here it is an option for both.

"So you say."

Think for a moment. Women here have no risk of bearing a lover's child. They can take any man or woman they want as a lover, and they do. Aisling has that option.

She'd never thought about that, but no risk of pregnancy in this world was probably the reason she saw female soldiers and so many diplomats even though much of the Shadowlands felt as if it was stuck in the past.

"I'm not saying you're wrong." Carys neared the edge of the forest. "I'm saying Aisling doesn't want to get married." She corrected herself. "Aisling doesn't want to marry anyone but Lachlan, but that's not an option. Seren knew that, and I think they had plans to fly away from here and someone found out."

Who?

"Regan is the most likely." Carys paused at the edge of the forest and looked up.

Regan was in Anglia. As much as I would like to blame her for Seren's death, she couldn't have killed her .

Cadell was gliding overhead, circling her and coming perilously closer with every circle.

"Please," she whispered. "Let me talk to Aisling on my own. She needs a friend right now, not an inquisitor."

Are you saying that I am not sympathetic?

"Your human form is the size of a garden shed, and I've never seen you smile."

I smile.

"Is that what dragons call it when they breathe fire?"

He didn't have a comeback for that.

"I'm going to the meadow by the old fae fort," Carys said firmly. "That's where her assistant said she was gathering herbs. It's not occupied. There are no wards. If I need you, you can be with me in minutes."

She's more powerful than she appears, Nêrys. Be careful.

"Right now I think she's feeling pretty powerless." Carys turned to face the path. "She needs a friend, so just keep your distance."

For now I will comply.

Carys turned and walked into the forest, weaving between trees that reached up to the sky, oaks and ash and beech that whispered in the wind, their bare branches crisscrossing the blue-and-purple sky.

Forests had always been Carys's refuge even when she was a child. She'd run through the redwoods and pines, touching their trunks like other children greeted friends. She delighted in the blossoming of the dogwood, the smell of cedar in the fog, the soft ferns that carpeted the forests around Baywood.

As she turned a corner in the path, the dome of a giant oak rose in front of her, its bare branches layered and twisting across the stormy sky. Its roots were blanketed in verdant moss, and a party of black-and-white-crested songbirds jumped among the raised roots, searching for food.

Carys walked slowly toward the massive oak, drawn to the life she felt from its center.

"Hello." She realized she'd been neglecting these trees because they felt foreign, and it weighed on her mind. "I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you before."

Birdsong chorused around her, and the crackle of wind in the winter branches grew louder.

"My mother would have loved to meet you. She told stories for the trees." Carys walked over to touch the trunk of a regal grey oak. "When she painted in the forest, she would tell stories about elves and fae and dragons and great wild boar. She sang to them."

The bark felt warm beneath her fingers, and its energy touched the surface of her skin. Despite its age—maybe because of it—this forest felt very alive.

"You're beautiful." She looked up at the gnarled, bare branches of the oak. "And you make a home for so many creatures."

Carys could feel joy rustling in the trees around her. The forest was proud of the birds that nested in it, the moles and creatures that dug underneath. The badger's den and the trotting lynx. They all made their home in the ancient trees.

She was welcome.

Carys smiled as she walked around the oak tree, running her fingers along the bumpy bark. On the other side, the trees opened up and she saw a path bordered by red-berried rowan trees twisting through the forest.

Rowan tree and red thread keep the witches from their speed.

It was an old saying her mother had whispered as she planted the mountain ash trees around the border of their house in Baywood.

The rowan will protect you. It's good luck.

"Is this for me?" Carys took a step toward the path. It appeared to go off in the same direction as the more familiar one, but she was hesitant to take an unfamiliar path in the forest when she knew where the other one led.

"I give my gratitude to the forest." She pressed her fingers to the oak trunk. "But I should take the way I know." Carys walked back around the tree, but the old path had disappeared. "Or… not."

A harsh caw sounded from the branch above her, and Carys looked up to see a crow sitting on a low-hanging branch. It angled his head toward her before he flew around the trunk of the oak and swooped down the rowan path.

"Cadell."

Yes, Nêrys.

"I'm taking a new path to the fae fort."

I do not advise this.

"Doesn't matter." She carefully stepped over the oak roots and walked toward the rowan path. "The trees showed me this path, and the other one is gone."

Nêrys, stay where you are. I'm coming.

She was tempted to say yes, but when she looked up, the branches that had crisscrossed happily across the blue sky seemed to draw closer, blocking the light.

"I don't think the trees want you here right now."

The branches eased back.

"Yeah, they don't want a dragon here."

This is dangerous.

His voice was louder in her mind. A part of her suspected Cadell was right and she should make a break for the edge of the forest while she could still see the loch, but the other part of her reached out for the rowan trunk and felt its sap run up to greet her.

"I think it's okay." These trees knew her. Somehow they knew her. "There's something familiar about this forest."

It was planted over a hundred years ago. The oak you were touching was a gift of the Cymric queen.

"Maybe that's the connection." But why would an oak tree planted a hundred years ago by a Cymric queen show her a path in the forest? "Okay, I'm taking the rowan path now."

The old fae planted rowan around their forts to guard against hostile magic.

"Then it looks like it's leading me in the right direction." She didn't tell Cadell about the crow. The dragon would probably set the forest on fire and swoop down to grab her .

Carys walked between the rowan trees, going deeper and deeper into the forest. The crow flew before her, waiting on each branch for her to catch up before he continued flying up the path. After a few minutes, she couldn't see the sky.

The path through the forest grew narrower, and the sky was blocked overhead, but nothing about the forest felt ominous. The ground beneath her boots was springy and soft, the stones layered with moss and dry leaves. Pine needles on the ground swallowed the sound of her footsteps as she approached something that looked like a great green wall.

It rose in the distance, a round hill of deep forest green dotted at regular intervals with craggy grey standing stones jutting from the mound.

"The fae fort." She'd seen the path that led to it and the meadows on the other side, but from this direction she could see how vast it was. So large, in fact, she wondered why it wasn't visible from the top of Tower Ridge.

"Cadell, why couldn't I see this structure from the top of the hill?"

It sits in a fold of the landscape, hidden from Castle Sgàin. It was designed that way, but I can see it.

"Good."

The rowan path led straight to the fort, and the damp air grew chilly as she approached. There was a rill flowing across the path, and she hopped across a pair of stones to stay on track.

Nêrys. Cadell's voice was cloudy but still there.

"Hey." Carys stopped and looked around. "I crossed a stream, and your voice is quieter."

You have crossed over the old wards, but you are not hidden from me. Be careful.

"I will." She walked to the left, following the path that led around the base of the fort. She could hear someone speaking in the distance, and she noticed the birds had grown quiet.

"…not sure what you mean."

"She knows something."

"You're wrong."

"It's obvious you…" The wind snatched the other words away. "…so it's time."

Aisling was in the meadow, but there was someone with her. Carys paused, debating whether she should leave and find Aisling another time, but as she turned, a branch cracked under her foot.

"Hello?" Aisling called out. "Who's there?"

Carys kept walking, and as she rounded the fort, she could see Aisling in the meadow, standing by a wide-leafed dusty-grey plant and holding a bone knife in her hand. Carys looked around, but she didn't see anyone with her.

"Hi." Carys lifted her hand and waved. "It's just me."

"Carys?" As soon as she saw Carys, Aisling's shoulders relaxed, and she put her bone knife in the basket. "What are you doing here?"

Carys wondered if she'd mistaken personal musing for conversation. "I was taking a walk. I… I realized that I hadn't really said hello to the trees properly, and my mother would judge me if she knew."

Aisling smiled. "Well, if you want to help me cut some mullein before the rain starts, I'd love the help." She looked up. "I can tell the clouds are going to let go soon."

"Sure." Carys scanned the meadow as she walked closer, but she couldn't see anyone. "What's mullein?"

"An herb." Aisling knelt down and started digging in the soil around the base of the large plant. "I collect it here because things grow in this meadow even in the winter." She lifted her eyebrows. "Old fae magic I think."

"What do you want me to cut?"

"Here." Aisling reached into her basket and grabbed another knife. "Use this and cut some of the leaves off near the base. The medium-sized ones are good. The big ones are too old. "

"Okay." The mullein leaves were soft and bore a feathery texture. "What's it for?"

"The leaves?" Aisling grunted as she dug. "The leaves are good for respiratory illnesses, and there are several sicknesses racing around the castle right now. I also read a letter from a mage in Anglia recently that mullein roots can be used to treat skin rashes, so I was going to experiment."

"You're really good at this stuff, aren't you?" Carys completely understood why Seren didn't want to see a mind like Aisling's locked into a political marriage in a place that wouldn't appreciate her. "In the Brightlands, we have all these different medicines, and here you use magic and herbs to heal people."

"Duncan says that many of the medicines in your world are derived from natural sources anyway." She pushed back a piece of hair that had fallen into her face. "So maybe it's almost the same thing."

"And we don't have magic."

Aisling smiled, but it was an absent kind of smile. "No, you don't."

"Yeah, my doctor in America has never used a spell to clear up a cough, so you have her beat there." Carys sat back on her heels, watching as Aisling dug up another root.

She looked around the clearing and saw the sprawling oak where the fae woman Naida had been gathering mushrooms. The grass in the meadow seemed a little brighter. The sky a little clearer. "The magic here is still strong, isn't it?"

"It is." Aisling looked up. "Can you feel it? Seren avoided this place. Cadell didn't like it when she was here. He can't stand the fae."

"Yeah, he's overprotective." She reached out and felt for the dragon's presence. It was faint, but it was there. "Any progress on your grimoire?"

"I'm close to finishing, and Regan agreed to stay until I'm done." Aisling's face was blank. "I'm ready to move on from here. I've heard that the medicinal knowledge in the Near East is much more advanced than what we have. If I'm able to find a position on the continent, maybe I'll meet mages from?—"

"Lachlan said your family is going to marry you to an Anglian lord like your mother." She didn't know why she blurted it out like that.

Fuck . Carys immediately regretted it.

"They're not." Aisling's face was pale. "Eamer says… She says my grandmother…" Aisling sat back and her shoulders were tense. "Why were you talking to Lachlan about me?"

Carys desperately searched for the right words. "I found Seren's last journal."

Aisling's face went pale.

"She knew you wanted to get away from here." Carys spoke quickly. "That you wanted to work in foreign courts, and I thought maybe your family wouldn't have liked that and?—"

"How did you find her last journal?" Aisling slowly rose to her feet, the bone knife clutched in her hand.

A crow shrieked from its perch on a craggy standing stone partially tilted to the side. Aisling's eyes darted to the crow and went wide. She looked back at Carys, then at the crow again.

"No," she whispered. "You didn't." Aisling's chest heaved as she stared at the crow. "Tell me you didn't."

"I just found it." Carys stood and stepped back slowly. "Why do you?—"

"You shouldn't have been able to find it." Aisling gripped the bone knife, and her face drained of color. Her skin was pure white, and her lips stood out like blood-red flowers on snow. Her mouth thinned, and her eyes moved from Carys to the crow and back again. "What have you done?"

"Cadell?" Carys reached out, but the voice that came back was dull and nearly silent.

Nêrys… what…?

"No." Aisling raised her hand and pressed her palm out. Her voice was an icy gust scraping across the silent meadow. "No!"

Carys felt something hit her, like the rush of wind from a passing truck. "What did you do? "

"You will not call the dragon." The warm woman's face had turned into a blank mask.

"What did you do?" Dread snaked through Carys's stomach, and a horrified realization dawned in her mind. "She was your best friend."

Aisling bared her teeth. "I threw that journal in the loch, weighed it down with stones! You never should have looked for it, you stupid woman!"

Nêrys, where are you?

"Cadell?" Her neck whipped around the clearing, searching for his voice. "Cadell!"

The shadows were darker and deeper. The air was silent, and the space between the trees seemed to shrink until there was no way between them.

She looked back at Aisling. "What's happening? What are you doing?"

"I didn't know what she might have written." Aisling's knuckles were bloodless as she gripped her blade. "It was in Cymric, and I couldn't read it. I couldn't take the chance."

There was a dull roar like beating wings in the distance and a growing thunder as lightning cracked overhead.

"Take what chance?" Silent tears fell from Carys's eyes. "Chance what, Aisling? Please don't say?—"

"Oh gods!" Aisling's face flickered between fear, guilt, and pure rage. "What did you do, Carys? What did you?—"

"Shut up, you idiot." Regan stormed out from behind a standing stone, crossed the meadow, and struck Aisling across the cheek, sending the young woman to the ground where she lay still.

"You." Carys turned in circles as Regan raised a hand to her. "You were in Anglia when she died."

Regan smiled. "You think I killed her?" She whispered something under her breath.

Carys tried to run, but her feet felt rooted to the ground. The air around her grew foggy and dull, and the roaring in the distance fell silent .

Regan sighed and walked to Carys. "You're more like your sister than I realized, you persistent, annoying bitch." She raised her hand again, and Carys braced for a physical blow, but instead, everything went black.