Page 108 of Broken Veil
“I could kill you now because I am a god. And you are nothing but a woman.”
“Duncan.” With the last of her breath, Carys whispered his name. “Duncan.”
“He will not wake from the sleep I sent to him.” Macha leaned over Carys, studying her as if she was an interesting specimen. “Imagine if I killed you.” Macha smiled a little. “He would wake next to your dead body. The dragon would lose another lady. The prince would lose another love. Their grief would feed me fordays.”
The darkness around her pressed in, closing off her vision until she saw nothing. She felt only dry winter cold freezing her lungs and a burning sensation at the back of her throat.
“You tamed my beautiful sea monster. You frightened my bear. And what do you have for it?” Macha continued to whisper. “Nothing. I’m still here. You have been driving in your metal carriage, chasing rabbit trails around this little island, and you… have… nothing.”
Cold lips touched Carys’s cheek, and when Macha breathed on her skin, ice cut her.
“You have nothing. Because you are nothing.” Macha sounded sad now. “They told you that you are special—you’re not. You will fight me, and that is all I will need to break open your world so that the monsters pour in. The battle will be beautiful, Carys Morgan, and it will be everything I need.”
Carys opened her mouth to speak, but her teeth started chattering.
“Look at you, poor thing.” Macha’s voice was pitying. “All you wanted was your lover back, and they drew you in, didn’t they? Epona’s machinations. The Pan’s meddling.” Macha’s cold fingers stroked Carys’s hair back from her forehead. “And all you wanted was to find your pretty man.”
The kiss that Macha brushed across Carys’s cheek was damp and cold.
“Poor little thing,” the Morrígan repeated. “You’re not capable of defeating a god. How silly of them. They needed a warrior, and instead they have you.”
Carys felt like she was dying. She saw nothing but black, and her lungs were frozen. She sensed nothing around her. Not the bed she was lying on. Not the press of Macha’s body. All she felt was cold.
It was so, so cold.
The tear that formed at Carys’s eye froze on her cheek.
“Oh, shhhhh,” Macha continued to whisper. “Poor, poor Carys.”
She wanted to die. All she wanted was for the cold to end. Moments passed, or maybe it was hours.
“Sleep, little human,” Macha murmured. “But when you wake up, remember… you cannot kill a god.”
Carys jolted awake,her hand grasping her throat as she drew in deep, warm breaths of air. She looked to her left to see Duncanstill sleeping, and a clock on the mantel over the cold fireplace ticked, ticked, ticked.
Somewhere in the house, a single clock struck one.
Carys bolted for the bathroom, vomiting the dinner she’d eaten before bed.
She curled on the floor, shaking from her toes to the top of her head. Then she grabbed a damp towel hanging over the edge of the bathtub and covered her face as she sobbed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Carys sat next to Cadell in the van the next morning, leaning against the dragon’s broad shoulder and trying to forget the nightmare that had woken her in the middle of the night.
Nightmare or vision?
“Poor little thing… You’re not capable of defeating a god… They needed a warrior, and instead they have you.”
The dream had been meant to terrorize her and make her give up, but where was the lie? Macha was right. Despite her small victories, Carys was wholly unequipped for a battle against an ancient Irish war goddess.
This wasn’t the battle on Saris Plain where she had the entire Cymric dragon horde, a powerful fae prince, and Anglia’s armies backing her up.
This wasn’t even hunting down a half-fae sorceress with Duncan and Lachlan at her side.
No, she was in the Brightlands where she had no power at all, and an ancient and powerful goddess was trying to raise a new cult so that she could break the gates between worlds.
And the hero chosen by the old gods was a human mythology professor with raging anxiety.
