Page 27 of First Light

She pointed to the wooden carts. “No metal?”

“Ah.” He shook his head. “Noiron. Some copper. More bronze.”

“Definitely no cars.”

“No buildings over three stories either.” He looked around. “This place is backward, and it’s mostly because of the iron. Iron and magic.”

“So the iron thing is true.” It had been ages since she’d actively studied Celtic mythology and British fairy tales. Most of her current classes were far more academic than practical.

In fairy lore, the fae hated iron and were burned by its touch. Itmade sense that in a realm they controlled, the metal would be forbidden. “That makes sense.”

Duncan shot her a look.

“I mean it makes sense for fae,” she muttered. “It’s their biggest weakness. Right?”

“Yes. The fae control all the resources here. There’s very little mining. There is nothing electric. That’s why I said to leave your phone.” He patted his waist. “Even blades are very limited.”

“Why do they have so much power?” She looked around. “There are so many people here.”

“There are people because the fae allow it.”

“How—” She sucked in a breath and whispered, “The gates. Population control.”

Duncan nodded grimly. “They hate anything modern that humans have made, and since they control the children, they make the rules.” Duncan grumbled. “Human rulers pay tribute or their population declines swiftly.”

Barbaric.

And effective. No human population was going to rebel when their hope for a future was held like a blade to their throat.

“Are there more fae than humans?”

“No,” he said. “But they’re more powerful.”

Duncan and Carys got in the line that formed at the gate of the castle, and she saw guards checking all the people going inside. The guards were wearing thick armor of layered leather over heavy woolen clothes and carrying swords at their waists that looked like they were made of bronze.

There were archers stationed on a lower wall above them, but they seemed at ease, and Carys could hear joking and laughing as they strolled along the parapet.

“Just go along with it but keep your cloak up,” Duncan said in a low voice. “Some of them will speak English.” They slowly moved forward in the line. “They’re used to foreigners at the castle. All the traders come through here.”

They reached the front of the line, and a male guard checked Duncan for weapons, exchanging a few words with him in Gaelic that sounded routine. A woman in lighter leathers with a bow on her back walked over to check Carys, patting her down with indifferent efficiency.

The guards tied a bright red knot around Duncan’s small blade and waved them through.

“Did the guard look at your face?” Duncan’s voice was soft.

“Not really. She was checking my clothes.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

Duncan growled under his breath, “That’s for Lachlan to explain.”

Through the gates of the castle there were markets and trading going on in earnest, voices going back and forth between English and Gaelic. Women and men wearing white aprons were negotiating with farmers for vegetables and livestock. Tradesmen smoked pipes and shouted out their wares as they sat on the back of wooden carts. Men and women wearing leather armor strolled through the melee, seemingly at ease with the security of the castle yard.

The people around her looked familiar despite the clothes. Faces were as diverse as those in any major city in Europe.

Carys smiled. “Doesn’t look like any fantasy movie we’ve seen on-screen, does it?”

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