Page 3 of The Shadow Path
Which left Carys alone with Duncan, laird of Murrayshall, who was once again looking like an advertisement for the Scottish Tourism Board.
“Hey.” She leaned on the lectern and tried to act cooler than she felt. “This is a surprise. I didn’t know you were coming to Baywood.”
Duncan had visited once, just after the Christmas holidays and right before she started work again, but when they’d talked the week before, he’d made no mention of flying to California. “I mean… a nice surprise, but what’s up?”
She had a sneaking suspicion this wasn’t just a social call.
“What can I say, Professor?” Duncan hung his massive hands in his pockets. “I couldn’t keep away from the glorious Northern California weather.”
“The sun is shining today.” She pointed toward the door. “I saw it.”
“Professor Morgan.” The corner of Duncan’s mouth inched up as his low voice curled around her professional title, his tongue rolling therin Morgan. “It’s giving me ideas, Carys.”
Now it was her face heating. “Come on.” She saw students start to trickle in for Dr. Ramirez’s class. “You caught me at the end of work, so walk with me and tell me what you’re doing here.”
Duncan followed Carys out of the lecture hall and into the bustling humanities building at Baywood State University. The college town on the Northern California coast wasn’t quite as foggy that late-May morning as it usually was, and the last of the ocean mist was burning off as Carys and Duncan walked down the stairs and across the north quad.
“So how are you?” She glanced over her shoulder, wishing she’d worn something slightly more appealing than her oversized tweed blazer, jeans, and a Cranberries band shirt that morning. “Been over to the other side lately?”
By “other side,” she meant the Shadowlands, the alternate realm where magic and myth weren’t just something Carys taught out of books. A realm where magical twins called Shadowkin existed at the will of powerful and scheming fae.
“I have been, yes.” Duncan glanced at her from the side. “Is your dragon around?”
“If you mean is he on campus, no. After four weeks of very bored class attendance, Cadell finally realized that no dark fae strike forces were likely to kidnap me in the middle of Baywood, so he usually hangs out on the other side of the fae gate behind my house while I’m in class.” She frowned. “Why?”
Duncan paused under the shade of a spreading ash tree. “Do you remember the Anglian king, Edgar?”
“I never met him, but I remember the name.” Carys had only traveled to the Scottish Shadowlands, called Alba, but all the realms of Briton had their own king or queen.
“Well, Edgar is dead.”
Carys felt the news like a punch to the stomach. “Poison?” Her own Shadowkin, Seren, had been poisoned by the human mage who’d been her closest friend. “Was he assassinated? Was it fae or some kind of?—”
“Fell off his horse while he was boar hunting,” Duncan said. “Split his head open. Died instantly.”
“Oh, that’s…” A relief? “That’s terrible.”
“Aye, it is, because that means his bampot of a son, Harold, is going to be the king.” Duncan rolled his eyes. “I knew Harold when he was a kid. Complete arse.”
“You knew him when he was a kid. He might have matured since then.”
Duncan shrugged. “Maybe. Either way, there’s a new king in Anglia, and I received a message from your uncle’s man in Cardiff last weekend.” He held out an elaborately decorated envelope with her uncle’s seal on the front.
Her Uncle Dafydd was her own father’s Shadowkin and the sitting king of Cymru.
“I was instructed to hand deliver it to you,” Duncan continued, “which is why I am here.” He smiled a little bit. “Not that it’s a hardship. We never got to Yosemite on my last trip.”
“I can’t help that there was a snowstorm.” Carys couldn’t stop her smile. “What does Dafydd want?” She reached for the envelope with trembling fingers.
“I didn’t read it of course, but since a private plane to London is waiting for you and Cadell, I have a feeling that your uncle wants you and your dragon at the coronation.”
Carys’s heart started to race. “Why me?”
Duncan’s eyebrows went up. “Because you’re nêrys ddraig, Carys. You’re a Cymric dragon lord now, and since Seren is dead, you’re also the closest thing that Dafydd has to an heir.”
“I just thinkit’s ridiculous to even consider me for the job.” Carys walked through her kitchen door and immediately hung her work bag on the hook by the door. “Come on in.” She pointed to his shoes. “Boots off.”
Duncan huffed, but he bent over and took off his shoes as Carys walked to the stove and started a kettle.
