Page 109 of Broken Veil
What the actual fuck?
Carys was probably not the only one doubting their mission, because while everyone in the van was rested and well-fed, the mood was somber.
Duncan reached over to the radio and turned up the music—a classic-rock station that really loved the Eagles—and Carys’s dragon took the opportunity to pry.
“What’s wrong?” Cadell asked softly. “I tried to speak to your mind, but you’re very closed off this morning.”
“It’s nothing.” She shook her head. “Just tired.”
“You are lying to me.” His voice was stiff. “Did you have an argument with the surly human? Do I need to speak to him?”
“No. And no. Just…” Carys didn’t know what to say. She was a grown woman. She shouldn’t need a dragon to fight all her battles for her. “Leave it.”
And it wasn’t like she could send Cadell after the Morrígan. He couldn’t chase a goddess into her dreams.
“I will find out what is bothering you,” Cadell said, “and then I will deal with it. Or him. Or whoever has caused this melancholy.”
“Can we talk about this later?”
Cadell’s jaw was tense. “If you insist.”
“I insist.”
Ironically, the only cheerful member of the party seemed to be Jibril, who had not wanted to rest the night before and was now clearly eager to see the man he called the Builder.
“He might be working today,” Jibril said, “but we’ll visit his cottage first. It’s on the edge of the forest.”
West Blean Wood was a vast conservation area just a few miles outside Canterbury, so it only took them a few minutes from town to be in the middle of forest. Duncan drove up Thornden Wood Road, looking for a place to park.
“So does this builder live in a pocket world like Jack?” Duncan asked. “Can us regular humans enter this one?”
“No, he lives in this world as I do,” Jibril said. “He is a simple man.”
“He’s a builder?” Carys asked.
Jibril nodded. “Of a sort.”
They were nearly through the forest when Jibril pointed to the right where a nearly hidden driveway appeared between two trees. “There. Turn there.”
Duncan waited for a car to pass, then turned in to the narrow, two-track drive that cut through a dense stand of chestnut trees and brush. Beyond the trees, they entered a clearing where a bright white wattle-and-daub house backed up to the forest. It bore a thatch roof, and at the peak of that roof, Carys saw a man working.
Duncan parked the van, and Carys immediately opened the side door and slid out of the car, her eyes fixed on the man working on the roof. There was something very familiar about him. Something about the way he moved.
The Builder turned and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He smiled when he saw the angel exit the van. “Jibril, old friend. Who have you brought to meet me?”
Carys had never seen the man before in her life, so why did she have a sense of recognition?
He had high cheekbones and a longish nose. His face was a sun-warmed brown, tanned from working in the outdoors. His dark brown hair was long and curly, pulled back into a messy knot at the back of his head.
The man—druid or god or whoever he was—sat on the roof, setting a bunch of long dry reeds next to him, and bent his knees, resting his elbows on his knees as he scanned the party exiting the van.
Kind brown eyes landed on Carys. “It’s Gareth’s daughter.”
“Oh!” Tears immediately came to her eyes when she realized who the Builder had to be, and she could barely hold back a laugh. “You’re…” She sniffed. “My dad knew you. And you knew my dad?”
His voice was resonant though his face was plain. He spoke in a rich South English accent with hints of something far more ancient. “Iknowyour dad, Carys.”
“So you’re… I mean, you’re really?—”
