Page 107 of First Light

Now? She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know that he was her sister’s husband. That he’d loved his wife so much that he’d crossed a world to search for Seren’s Brightkin. And when he’d found Carys, he’d made her fall in love with him, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Pretending he was a normal human man and not a magical prince.

What should he have said? Would you have believed him?

Carys was lost in thought when she tripped over a root sticking up in the path. She looked down at her stubbed toe. A root?

Only then did she notice that the path she’d been walking through the edge of the forest had diverged and she was at the top of the ridge, looking down across the silver loch.

“Shit.” How could she be so careless? Her mind was everywhere, but there was no excuse not to watch where she was going, especially when Cadell wasn’t with her.

Carys looked around and sighed in relief when she realized she wasn’t far off the cobbled path and she recognized the way back to the castle. She was about to turn when a movement on the edge of the loch caught her attention.

A woman sat on a log, her long dark hair flowing down her back and trailing on the ground. She was dressed in deep green, wearing a gown that looked as if it had been plucked from a medieval tapestry. Something about the woman was familiar.

Had she seen her in a dream?

Carys walked off the path and through the trees to the edge of the forest.

A dark man stood over the strange woman, his tall figure looming. His hair was long and hanging in his face, and his clothes looked like black rags. Was he a vagrant? A fae? Something about him felt otherworldly too, but nothing about the woman’s posture spoke of alarm or fear.

The two figures were talking—Carys could tell that much—but they were too far from her to hear what they were saying.

She stepped closer.

The dark figure looked up, and she could see silver eyes glowing from behind his dark, stringy hair. The woman turned and her head angled when she saw Carys.

Without a word, the dark man drew a hood over his head and turned, stepping away from the woman and walking straight into the loch.

“Wait! The kelpie!” Carys started to run toward them, but her foot caught on a rock and she tripped, catching herself with her hands.

She scrambled to her feet, only to find herself alone on the edge of the forest, the woman gone, the loch clear and peaceful as glass. Carys looked around in confusion.

Nothing. The two figures were gone, as if they’d never existed, and Carys was alone.

By the timeshe got back to the castle, she had resolved in her mind that the two figures must have been fae and she’d be better off forgetting she’d ever seen them. The last thing she needed to do was eavesdrop on the fair folk, especially when she now knew a massive secret that could get Duncan, Cadell, and maybe even Angus killed.

It was lucky for her that she’d tripped in the first place.

“Lady Carys!” The guard snapped to attention at the gate and nodded. “How was your walk this morning?”

“Excellent.” She hesitated before she asked the next question, but she pushed on. “Is Lord Lachlan in the castle this morning?”

“He is training with the Northern Guard in the inner courtyard, my lady.” The man gestured toward the large gate that separated the outer courtyard from the inner. “Through the gate and you’ll see them.”

She walked across the muddy stones where wagons bumped, sheep wandered, and a pair of donkeys laughed at the busy humans around them. The Castle of Sgàin was a bustling place, more like a small city inside the walls than any kind of home. There were soldiers from Cymru still camped along the south wall, their tents set up with banners flying over them. On the north side was the constant traffic of merchants selling wares from the village and other regions of the Shadowlands.

Women walked by with baskets on their heads, men bartered in various languages, and animals brayed. Through it all was the occasional flash of the familiar. A man wearing a Mickey Mouse shirt underhis worn woolen cape. A woman wearing a belt with bright beading and sequins. One teenage boy wore a New York Yankees baseball cap with fur-trimmed earflaps added along the edge.

Carys walked through the outer courtyard and entered the gate, where her fine clothing marked her as a resident of the castle. The guards eyed her with interest but said nothing as she walked into the inner courtyard to see Lachlan standing in the center of a group of men. Carys leaned against a wall in an inconspicuous corner so she didn’t interrupt.

As Carys watched Lachlan, Seren’s journals flickered in the back of her mind, coloring her own observations with her sister’s childish ones.

I like Lachlan, but he’s too quiet. He’s not like the other boys who are rough with the girls. Harold is positively beastly! He tugs at Aisling’s braids every day. It’s not nice. Lachlan would never do that, but he doesn’t stand up for Aisling either, and it’s his own house. He should. The next time Harold bothers Aisling, I’m going to punch his big nose. Elanor will not approve, but it has to be done.

Lachlan was speaking to his men in Gaelic, so she couldn’t understand him, but she could see the soldiers watching him with rapt attention as he demonstrated something with a bronze sword in his hand. He was stripped down to his sleeves, his shirt open at the neck, and he’d clearly been working, because sweat glistened on his face. He wore a leather vest with no decoration and a tall pair of boots with guards over the knees.

Another man stood across from Lachlan, his own sword in hand. He was dressed in a dark leather vest, his jacket also removed. The man had short dark hair and dark eyes. His skin was medium brown, and his posture was relaxed and confident.

The ranks of the Northern Guard were elite fighters who guarded the inner castle, the royal family, and the children of the Queens’ Pact. They consisted of the best fighters from all the clans in Albawho were sent to Sgàin to serve the king. The men were a mix of complexions and hair colors. Pale skin and bright red hair, dark brown skin and black curling hair. There were a few women sprinkled in, but not many. They were kids that Carys would have seen on her own college campus save for the serious expressions on their very young faces.

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