Page 40 of The Shadow Path
Which would leave Carys in Brightlands London with no way back to the Shadowlands and Laura and Duncan unless the gate decided that she was familiar enough to welcome. In theory, she should be able to find her way back.
In theory.
“Up you go.” The Crow Mother boosted Carys into the carriage, and the door slammed behind her.
“Wait, aren’t you going to?—”
“Ar aghaidh linn!”
There was a creaking sound, and the coach jolted forward, Carys locked in the black box with a single window to watch the dark woods roll past.
If Carys did find her way back to Shadowlands London, she’d land in the troll market in the middle of the night, when all the security in the city was focused on Harold’s palace.
One problem at a time, Carys.
Cadell would realize she was gone. Soon the dragon was going to realize she was gone, and once the Crow Mother’s fog lifted, Cadell would find her.
Her dragon could always find her.
The glass was darkened,but Carys knew immediately when they arrived at the night market. There were torches lit along the river, and blue lights floated over the water in the distance. Raucous laughter pierced the fae fog, and eerie music competed with the sounds of merriment for space in the night sky.
It seemed that all of London was celebrating, whether it was in a fancy palace garden or under an old stone bridge.
The laughs fell to whispers as they passed through the market, and when Carys peeked through the smoked glass, she saw wide eyes of all shapes and sizes watching them.
Trolls of every shape and element stared as they passed. Rocky-skinned vendors; pale, watery-faced artisans; and ethereal passersby.
Also in the shadows, she could see humans and smaller magical creatures trudging in the background. Some were standing behind tables, and others carried crates on their shoulders.
All of them looked as if they were wearing some kind of charm, because their faces were obscured. From one moment to the next, Carys could see an eye clearly, then a mouth. But never the entire face at once.
What magic was happening to these enchanted humans?
The coach stopped at the mouth of an alley, and the door creaked open.
Carys waited for Branwen to appear before her.
“Well?” the fae woman asked. “Are you getting out, or do I need to compel you?”
“Canyou compel me?” Carys was wondering just why she’d been so quick to follow the old fae into the forest, but she had a vague recollection of something in her belly pulling her into the woods.
“Hmm.” The Crow Mother eyed her. “Not as easily as I should.” She waved. “Come now. Fulfill your half of the bargain, and our deal will be complete.”
“That’s it?” Carys wanted assurances. “I walk you through the gate into the Brightlands and my debt to you is complete?”
She smiled. “When you say it like that, it makes me think you owe me more.”
“Nope.” Carys put mental shutters on either side of her face and pointed it toward the familiar alley where Dru had guided them only two nights before. She wasn’t seeing the humans in thrall to the trolls. She wasn’t seeing the chains or the ropes or the magic that bound them.
Not that night.
Not until it was finished.
“Let me see.” Carys slowed her steps as she walked across the damp cobblestones. “I need to feel for it.”
She was dragging her feet—she knew exactly where the gate was. She could see the blue will-o’-the-wisps flying up and down the narrow passageway, darting this way and that as they flew toward the gate.
Carys ran her fingers along the dirty stone wall, anchoring herself to the solid reality of the buildings as the darkness pressed in.
