Page 93 of First Light

“I was too, but she loved the sun. We both did.” Dafydd’s expression was bright. “We took an expedition there with the help of a Brightkin I trust. Not my own, obviously, but the twin of my steward. He’s quite a wealthy man on the other side. We do have some connections in the Brightlands. Maintaining them is of strategic importance.”

Carys poked a little bit. “Did Eamer go with you?”

“No, she has no desire for it.” He looked out over the landscape. “I’m sure you’ve heard she and Seren weren’t close. But they got along well enough for my sake.”

“What about the fae? Dotheyhave connections in the Brightlands?”

“You saw them at the banquet last night.” His eyes narrowed. “What do you think?”

“I have a hard time imagining that they blend in like you could.”

“Very true. And they lose almost all their magic. What is a fae without their magic?” He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Did you notice their attention last night?”

“Yes.”

“They were fascinated by you, weren’t they? I noticed that as well.” His expression was grim. “Fae gates were created by… No one knows really. The oldest gods probably. Fair folk who no longer exist perhaps? Magic itself? There are many theories.”

“But no one knows.”

“Not really.” Dafydd turned and looked across the valley and the dark forest beyond. “On this side, the fae and others of their kind control everything. Our mining. Our farms. The weather. Our children, more than anything else. But when it comes to entering the Brightlands, they have their limits.”

Carys followed Dafydd’s eyes, watching the forest and the murky landscape beyond. “So fae can’t go into my world without help?”

“It works the same way as you coming here. Once the gates recognize you, you can travel somewhat freely. I understand it was fae mercenaries who… fetched Lachlan from your world.”

Carys nodded. “That’s what he tells me.”

“But if you’ve never been into the Brightlands as a magical creature, you need an escort who is native to that realm.” Dafydd’s eyes drilled into her. “So on this side of the gates, you hold a particular kind of magic, Carys Morgan. Be cautious of who tries to befriend you.”

“I didn’t think I had that kind of magical power here. I mean, otherthan talking with Cadell, but I can’t say spells or anything.” Carys felt powerless and stupid much of the time. “Dafydd, why didn’t you and Eamer have more children? Did the fae ever tell you?”

“No. They don’t answer questions about that.” A flicker of darkness in his blue eyes, and he stared at the ground. “We hoped for more, and I admit I was surprised when we did not receive another child. Eamer is of Éire, and her mother a consort in the fae court there. Most of her people are blessed with many children. It’s one of the reasons Queen Orla has always been able to marry off the women of her family in powerful unions. My own father met Eamer and assumed we would welcome many children into our court.”

“But it didn’t happen?”

Dafydd’s great shoulders lifted and fell. “We are given only what we are given. For me, Seren was always enough. Do you know if your parents ever wanted more children?”

She smiled sadly. “I always felt like they wanted more, but maybe it just didn’t happen, you know?”

He nodded. “So perhaps the same fate was for us. And while Eamer and I were never blessed with another child” —Dafydd’s eyes creased in pleasure— “we have fostered many and taken great joy in raising them as our own.”

Carys looked to the castle in the distance. “It must have been hard letting her go.”

Dafydd’s smile fell. “The Queens’ Pact demands it even when a king only has one child. Most regents have more than one and keep their oldest at home, but I only had Seren. So when she was only five, I sent her to be fostered here. Robb and I have always had a close relationship. I trusted him the most. His son Rory was raised in Cymru with us, but Seren could only spend a few months at home each year until Cadell was called to her.”

Carys couldn’t imagine the pain of having a child and then being forced to give that child to another family. “I wasn’t raised in Wales either.”

Dafydd frowned. “Yes, I was told your parents moved away. Do you know why?”

“There was some kind of fight in their family, I think. They didn’t talk about it much.” She gripped her hands as they walked, resisting the urge to throw her arms around a stranger with her father’s face. “We moved to North America. A place called California. Do you… know where that is? There’s a Shadowlands California, right?”

Dafydd’s eyes twinkled, reminding Carys of her father again. “There is, and I have visited the place. The nêr ddraig travel broadly, often to visit other dragon territories. It’s one of the reasons Cymru has been so successful maintaining our independence despite the Anglian wolves.”

“Are the English here as imperialistic as they were in the Brightlands?”

Dafydd smiled. “Pay no attention to our good-natured jokes. King Edgar is an ally and a peaceful man. He believes in conquest through trade, not war. He desires Cymric maps more than our land.”

Okay, that answered one question. Apparently someone named Edgar ruled Anglia. “What’s so special about Cymric maps?”

---