Page 47 of The Shadow Path
“It’s not me.” She looked at the wounded fae. “I think it’s Dru.”
The soldiers stayed on their horses, who skittered back from the fire.
Dafydd, Anwyn, and Dylan froze.
Carys stayed in Duncan’s arms, both of them kneeling next to Dru, who stared in the direction of the dark woods in the distance.
There was a light coming toward them, as small as a wisp that seemed to grow.
And grow.
The wolves in the woods went silent as a figure walked out of the darkness and toward the fire.
Duncan growled, “Dru, what have you called?”
“Easy, my friend.” The fae’s eyes were glowing and content.
She was small, as petite as Dru was tall. Her skin was the color of polished oak, her eyes a brilliant blue. Her dark, curly locks were threaded with braids, and her delicate pointed ears were pierced with a line of intricately woven gold hoops.
Anwyn gasped. “Ellyllon.”
The small fae stared at Dru with a flood of tangled emotion filling her eyes. “You return to this place but call to me only now, when you have need of my healing?”
Dru closed his eyes. “Naida?—”
“I do not need your excuses, Diarmuid.”
He lifted his hand, palm up, silver fae blood staining his graceful fingers. “I am your servant.”
“You are no one’s servant,” Naida whispered, “least of all mine.”
Dru closed his eyes. “My love?—”
“Stop talking.” She walked over, sparing only a glance at Carys and Duncan before she knelt next to Dru. “Carys Morgan, do I owe you a favor for saving him?”
She shook her head. “I was only doing what I could. He saved me from the violence at the market tonight.”
“Did he now?” Naida’s eyebrows went up as she took off a cloak made of silver-grey fabric and embroidered with flowers, then threw it over Dru. “A selfless act? Don’t make me question your identity.”
Despite her harsh words, Naida’s hands were gentle, and Dru stared at her like she was the sun, the moon, and the stars wrapped in one.
A smile curved the corners of his mouth. “You are more beautiful than ever.”
“And you’ve lost blood.” She glanced around the fire. “We’ll be back when he’s healed.”
“Back?”
The silver threads that covered the ground glowed and pulsed with magic, and Duncan grabbed Carys and scrambled away from Dru as the ground beneath them heaved again, like a giant beast taking a breath.
Naida’s cloak seemed to grow, covering both her and Dru under its silver span, the threads of the cloak reaching down to twine with the glowing threads reaching up from the heaving earth.
The ellyllon put her hands into the dirt, whispered something, and the ground opened up and swallowed them both, leaving a massive fairy mound in the middle of Dafydd’s courtyard.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The world around Carys swam in shades of grey and red. The red of the fire at the market. The black and grey of the fog-dampened cobblestones. The heated red of troll blood spraying across her face. The silver of magical roots growing out of the ground.
“Carys.” A soft whisper in her ear, and strong arms held her.
