Page 77 of First Light

“Magic,” Duncan said. “There’s no other explanation. It’s not very satisfying for our scientific minds.”

Someone spoke from the doorway. “Magic is its own kind of science.”

Aisling turned, and the smile that spread across her face was slightly frantic. “Regan. I didn’t expect you this early.”

Carys turned and saw the raven-haired woman from the coracle walking into the room. She was dressed in severe clothing, wearing a long tunic, leggings, and a fur cape with a streak of red at the shoulder. A fox pelt.

It was impossible to say how old Aisling’s aunt was. She could have been fifty or thirty. Her face carried a slight blur over it, as if it might change depending on the angle that you looked.

She stared at Carys and spoke to Aisling. “I wanted to start your lessons today, Niece.”

“I’m ready.” Aisling took off her apron and hung it on a standing rack by her worktable. “I have my most current spells worked out, and if you’d like to look over them before I add them to the grimoire, I can?—”

“You’re Carys Morgan.” Regan walked toward Carys, bright blue eyes fixed on her face. “You really are her twin.”

Aisling’s hands were gripped in her skirt. “She’s Seren’s Brightkin, Regan. Of course they look alike.”

“How… alarming.” Regan’s eyes didn’t blink.

“Not to me.” Everything about Regan put Carys on alert. “You knew Seren?”

“Of course she did.” Duncan angled his body so he was ever so slightly between Regan and Carys. “Lady Regan.”

Regan looked up and smiled seductively. “Duncan Murray. Blacksmith of the Brightlands.” Her tongue hissed on the last syllable. “You know I am no lady.”

“In that we’re in agreement.”

She cast a ravenous look from his boots to his beard. “Let me know when you’ve changed your mind, Brightkin.”

“Not fucking likely.”

Aisling tried to keep the mood light. “Let me introduce you properly. Regan, this is Carys, Seren’s Brightkin. Carys, this is my aunt and teacher, Regan, Lady of Ulaid. She is the daughter of Queen Orla and a very talented mage.”

The young one feels guilt. The older one feels nothing.

Carys spotted Cadell from the corner of her eye. He was standing in human form on the other side of the workroom windows. He wasn’t looking at her but at Regan.

Carys turned to Aisling, startled by the mix of emotions playing across the woman’s face. She was a bundle of nerves. Guilt or worry?

Why? From her aunt? From Carys and Duncan? From her aunt meeting Carys?

“We should go,” Carys said. “I don’t want to interrupt your time with your aunt, but we’ll see you at the banquet tonight, right?”

“Of course.” Aisling let out a quick breath. “And if there’s anything you need before tonight?—”

“Seren’s journals,” Duncan said. “The record books she kept. Do you know where they are?”

“Oh goodness.” Aisling looked down and blinked. “Uh, probably with Lachlan? I would think they’d be with Lachlan. Check with him.”

“Are you okay?” Carys asked. “You seem…”

Guilty. Cadell was right. Aisling looked guilty.

“Perhaps it is the sight of your face, Carys Morgan.”

Carys turned to Regan, who had perched herself on a stool near Aisling’s worktable.

“Why?” Did Aisling have something to do with Seren’s death? Was she feeling guilty about something Lachlan had asked her to do? What was she hiding?

---