Page 29 of Broken Veil
The corner of his mouth turned up. “She can be.”
“We left,” Carys said. “But she did try to get us to stay. You could tell she was trying to waste our time, make us linger in the woods…”
Lotus-eaters.
Sirens.
The irresistible firebird, lulling her to sleep in a comfortable hideaway.
“She did try to seduce us in a way.”
Dru spread his hands. “It’s not the same story, Carys Morgan, but it just might rhyme.”
She sighed and swung her legs to the side, wishing she could get comfortable. “Again with the riddles.”
“Not a riddle. Luna gave you a clue. She gave you a piece of a poem where the Morrígan is defeated. In a sense.”
“Yeah, by a demigod.” Carys pointed at Dru. “Like you. Cú Chulainn was a demigod, and I am not. Someone like you could defeat her.”
He shrugged. “This is not my path.”
“Are you saying it’s mine?” She nearly laughed. “If the Morrígan was in the Shadowlands, I might stand a chance. Here, I have adragon.” She pointed at the door. “On the other side, I have nothing. I can shoot a bow half decently, but that’s not going to stop a deity. I don’t have magic there. I don’t have…” She snatched the papers off the table. “I don’t haveanythingthere.”
Dru tsked, a smile flirting around his mouth. “How shortsighted of you, Carys Morgan. You have many things in the Brightlands.”
“Like what?”
The smile fell from his face. “You have two lovers who would do anything for you, cross a world to bring you a draft of water. Two parents who defied a goddess to bring you into the world. You are surrounded by love. Do you have any idea how powerful that is?”
Carys couldn’t help but think of Naida. Dru had crossed into the Brightlands to prevent a war among the fae and only returned when his brother proved immeasurably corrupt. And yet all the time that he was living in the Brightlands, Naida had never crossed over.
She’d only crossed over once Dru had taken the throne.
“She loves you,” Carys said softly. “She only came with us for a little while. She knows she could never stay.”
“I never asked her to.”
“What do you want from her?”
“She knows.” He lifted his chin. “And she is the only one who needs to know.”
Carys nodded, folded the papers in her hand, and stuffed them back in her pocket. “Th—” She caught herself. “I appreciate the meeting.” She glanced at him, still stretched out in the chair, his eyes fixed on the wall behind her. “And it is good to see you, Dru.”
“I miss my pub.” He pouted. “Some days I am tempted to tear open the gates and let the flood of iron and wires and plastic pour into this place.” His eyes gleamed. “It would slowly kill all the fae here until they were as dead as they are in the Brightlands.”
Scary. That was obviously something he’d thought very clearly about.
Carys leaned on the chair. “Okay, so… you wouldn’t do that.”
Diarmuid mac Lir probably had the power for it if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t do it.
Dru lifted an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I?”
“No, because that would hurt Naida.”
He sneered. “Love is a weakness.”
“No, it’s not.” She walked over and ruffled the long and lustrous hair of the high fae king. He was acting like a toddler, so maybe she should treat him like one. “Love isn’t weakness. You just got finished telling me to use my two lovers—which… technically correct, but it doesn’t reflect the current situation.”
