Page 107 of Broken Veil
“He’sliterallya royal twat, isn’t he?”
“He is.” Duncan kept his arms around her, and her breathing calmed. “I thought of you,” he whispered. “I didn’t even know your name, but I thought of you nearly every day.”
She turned her face into his neck and kissed it.
“I thought about what you must be like. With Seren being so fiery, I thought you might be calm and steady.” He ran a hand up and down her back. “Softhearted maybe. I worried about people hurting you. Worried that if you were as kind as Seren was mean, they might see that as weakness.”
“Was she mean?”
What are you doing in my world? It wasn’t enough to steal my husband, you had to steal my dragon too?
Seren’s words from her dream slapped Carys’s memory.
“Oh yes, she could be mean,” Duncan said. “But not for no reason. She had little patience for stupidity. She felt the weight of her role, I think. And that could make her harsh. And she was fierce about the people she loved.”
He kept stroking her back, up and down, soothing and warming her up.
“He said that you probably thought of me,” Carys whispered. “That he didn’t know why he was still alive when you realized he’d gone looking for me after Seren’s death.”
Duncan’s hand stopped, and his fingers dug into her back. “I was very angry.”
“Probably with me too.”
“Carys… it’s not important.”
She pulled away so she could look at his face. “Were you?”
“No.” His voice was harsh. “How could I be? You had no idea about any of this. Had no idea about the Shadowlands. Had noidea about Shadowkin or Brightkin or any of this at all. How could I be angry with you?”
But Carys knew he had been. Maybe he still was.
It wasn’t logical for her to resent Lachlan for not thinking about her when he was married to Seren.
It wasn’t logical for Duncan to resent her for falling in love with Lachlan when she didn’t know any of this existed.
She pulled away from Duncan and shrugged. “Sometimes feelings aren’t logical.”
“You’re tired.” His voice was rough. “You should finish your bath and go to sleep.”
And suddenly that was all she wanted to do.
Macha was lyingnext to Duncan on the bed, her fingers floating over his temple. “Sleep, my fine human.”
Carys sat bolt upright in bed. “What are you doing here?”
“Did you forget” —Macha climbed over Duncan’s body and crawled toward Carys on all fours— “that I am agoddess?” She shrieked the last word. “Goddess!” She shoved a finger in Carys’s face. “Mortal. Who do you think you are?”
Carys fell back on the bed as if pushed down by an invisible hand.
Her body was frozen, and tendrils of cold trickled from her nape down her spine. “You’re not real,” she whispered. “This is a dream.”
If this was real, Cadell would already be in the room. Duncan would be awake. Lachlan would be swinging a sword.
“Oh, youaredreaming, Epona’s daughter, but I’m real enough to kill you.” Macha lay next to Carys and placed a hand on her chest. She pressed her hand against Carys’s skin, and cold spread over her body; fingers of ice pierced her chest.
Carys tried to breathe but she couldn’t, and crippling pain built in her lungs.
She was swamped in darkness; all she could hear was the Morrígan whispering in her mind.
