Page 21 of The Shadow Path
“Is Queen Orla coming to the coronation?” Carys asked.
“Oh yes. She and Prince Cian are due to arrive via fae gate for the welcome banquet.” Dafydd pulled out a chair for Carys and clapped his hands for the servants. “More food for our guests, Angharad. And call for Anwyn and Dylan to join us.”
“Very well, my lord.” A woman in a neat suit nodded brusquely and immediately began barking orders at the staff in Cymric.
Carys had been brushing up on her Welsh, but the dialect of her mother’s language was different in the Shadowlands than what she could learn in the Brightlands. Still, a little of it made sense.
“Anwyn and Dylan?” Carys reached for a bowl of roasted turnips only to have the spoon snatched from her hand as Duncan started to serve her.
“Let me,” he murmured.
“Thanks.”
“And sausages?” Lachlan took two from a platter and set them on her plate. “Remember, it’s colder here.”
“I’m fine.” She held up her hands. “That’s plenty. Both of you.” She looked at Laura with wide eyes, but her best friend was trying to stifle laughter.
“You’ve done this to yourself,” Laura whispered.
“Shut up.” Carys now had two large Scotsmen hovering over her, trying to feed her, and she was about ready to boot both of them out the large double doors when those doors parted and a pair of soldiers walked into the hall.
“Carys.” Dafydd stood again, followed by everyone at the table. “Your cousins, my dear.”
She turned and saw two fierce warriors glaring at her, a man and a woman, both clad in leather armor that looked similar to dragon-wear and sporting long, curved swords at their waists.
“These are my younger brother’s children,” Dafydd said. “Anwyn the eldest, and Dylan, her younger brother.”
Both were dark-haired and bore more than a passing resemblance to Carys. They had the same dark brown hair and vivid blue eyes. Both were of medium height, and Anwyn carried a long scar that dragged from her left cheekbone nearly to her chin.
It did nothing to detract from her striking looks; both of Carys’s cousins looked like complete badasses.
“Hello.” Carys didn’t know what to do with her hands. She didn’t think a handshake would be welcome when both of them had one hand on the pommel of their swords and the other was fisted as they stood at attention.
“Lady Carys.” Anwyn spoke in English. “Welcome to our uncle’s home. And welcome to the company of nêr ddraig. Cadell is a wise and worthy dragon.” She gave Carys an assessing look. “We trust he has chosen well.”
Trust wasn’t exactly screaming from their expressions, but Carys decided they were both playing polite for now.
For now.
“Both Anwyn and Dylan are dragon lords,” Dafydd said. “The pride of the Cymric royal family.”
Anwyn and Dylan both bowed deeply before they stood up straight.
“You honor us, Uncle,” Dylan said. “We are servants of the throne.”
“We look forward to flying with Carys,” Anwyn said. “Rumors say that you are nearly as accomplished an archer as Seren was.”
“That would be an exaggeration,” Carys said. “I’m still training.”
Anwyn’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smirk. “Of course you are.” She turned to Dafydd. “Uncle, we are training with your guards. If there is nothing else you need from us, we should return to them.”
“Have you eaten?” Dafydd asked.
“We ate at first light,” Dylan said. “As is expected of our company.” He glanced at Carys, then back at Dafydd. “Unless you have need of us?—”
“Go.” Dafydd waved them away. “We’ll have to arrange for some family time when you are not so busy.”
Family time was about the last thing that Carys imagined these two wanted. “It was nice meeting you,” she called out to Anwyn’s and Dylan’s retreating figures. “See you later.”
