Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Why did you call me a hero?”
Wade opened one eye.
They’d shuffled around in the van for the three-hour drive to Yorkshire and the deep waters of the River Ouse.
Carys had switched with Cadell so the dragon could stretch his long legs in the front passenger seat.
Godrik and Lachlan’s broad shoulders blocked the row behind the driver, and Naida and Laura were sleeping in the middle, leaving Carys in the far back with the strange old man.
“Who are you?” Wade asked.
Naida said he wasn’t fae, so she offered her name. “I’m Carys Morgan.”
Wade just stared at her. And? his eyes seemed to ask.
“I’m… a mythology professor,” Carys continued. “I was born in Wales, but I grew up in Northern California.”
Wade narrowed his eyes. “You’re telling me where you were born, not who you are.”
“Okay.” Carys shook her head. “Um… I’m an only child. My parents never had any other kids, so Laura is kind of like my sister.”
Wade was still silent and staring.
“My mother was an artist, and my father was a teacher like me. And a carpenter. And then a few years ago, my parents died in a really horrible car accident.” Carys looked out the window. “And I miss them every day.”
“So that’s all you are?” Wade lifted one eyebrow. “Just an ordinary teacher from California with a sad story about her parents?”
“Okay, fine.” She felt the corner of her mouth lift in half a smile. “I’m a professor and a dragon lord.” She plucked at her jeans. “A nêrys ddraig of Cymru.” She laughed quietly. “Still working on that part though.”
Wade kept staring. “What else?”
“I’m…” Carys’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m the daughter of a Brightkin and a Shadowkin. My mother served Epona. But I don’t really know what that means. And I don’t really know anything about how they met or what it means when people mention Epona’s—”
“You’re a sage.” Wade’s voice dropped and his folksy accent disappeared. “A teacher and a storyteller. That’s the obvious part, Lady Carys. But what else are you? Why do you think I called you a hero?”
Carys shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Her heart raced, and she saw Cadell turn around in his seat.
Nêrys.
I’m fine.
She couldn’t take her eyes from Wade’s. She would have sworn earlier that they were a greenish color, but now they were deep blue.
I’m fine, Cadell.
“Stop talking to your dragon,” Wade said, “and answer the question: Why did I call you a hero?”
Carys whispered, “You called me a hero because I shouldn’t exist.” She let out a soft breath. “Because I’m the daughter of a Shadowkin. Because I’m a human born from magic.”
They left the M1 east of Sheffield and headed northeast on the highway. Carys tried to sleep, but she couldn’t. She moved to the front seat to keep Duncan company, but the blacksmith seemed to be running on pure annoyance with their unexpected passenger.
Wade would bark out, “Turn here, jock!” Or “Not that way, eejit,” causing her boyfriend to bare his teeth until Carys reached over, took his hand, and breathed deeply until Duncan no longer looked like he was seconds away from murdering Wade.
It was over three hours of driving before they turned off the highway and reached a wide spot in the road just ahead of a bridge and Wade yelled, “Stop here!”
Duncan slammed on the brakes and turned to growl at Wade, but before he could even speak, the old man had yanked the door open, climbed over Godrik, and jumped out of the van.
“What the hell?” Duncan looked furious.
Godrik said, “I have no idea.”
The strange man was halfway toward a long, straight river that shone silver in the moonlight before he turned and yelled, “Meet me at Shipp’s Inn tomorrow night.”
Then in a blink, Wade walked into the river, sank beneath the surface, and disappeared.
Laura leaned toward the window. “Did he just go in the river?”
Cadell was staring. “Mm-hmm.”
“I believe he did,” Lachlan said.
“He’s not…” Laura frowned. “He’s not coming up.”
“Do you think he’s an eel?” Carys asked. “And he studies them because he’s just like a really giant eel? Are there eel shifters?”
No one in the van answered, probably since Carys was talking nonsense because she’d been awake for over twenty-four hours.
Lachlan asked, “Did he tell us to meet him at Shipp’s Inn tomorrow night?”
Godrik nodded. “Yes.”
“Does anyone have any idea where this Shipp’s Inn could be?”
Laura raised her hand. “Do any of us have any reason to follow the instructions of a weird guy from Temris who talks to rain?” she asked. “Because I feel like that’s the more important question.”
Lachlan said, “He told us that Carys needed to go to Yorkshire with him. That she is the hero.”
“And?” Laura shrugged. “Who the hell is—”
“Fine!” Naida sighed from the far back row. “He’s a sea god.”
Every eye turned toward her.
“He asked me not to say anything, but this is ridiculous.” She closed her eyes and muttered, “Wade is Wada. He’s a sea god.”
Godrik’s eyes went wide. “That was Wada?”
Naida nodded slightly.
Godrik started muttering something under his breath in what sounded like an incantation.
“That man” —Duncan pointed at the river— “is a god?”
“Yes, one of the oldest gods in Britain,” Naida said. “So we should probably meet him tomorrow like he asked.”
Cadell nodded slowly. “So he is not an eel after all.”
That meant a god had told Carys she was a hero.
That was… something. She was too tired to think about what, but it was definitely something.
“Gods don’t always look how you think they might look,” Naida said softly. “Especially in the Brightlands. What did you think a sea god looked like? Long hair tangled in weeds and a fish tail?”
If Carys was honest with herself, that was kind of what she’d pictured in her mind. Probably because of Disney movies.
“Fair point,” Laura said. “I mean, our sea gods look like fishes and whales, so why not a weird old guy in rubber boots?”
Carys murmured, “Did I say that out loud?”
“Did you say what out loud?”
“Sea gods look like Poseidon in cartoons.”
Duncan looked at Carys with a smile. “You are very exhausted, aren’t you?”
“A little bit.”
Lachlan said, “She doesn’t sleep well in cars.”
Duncan shot him a look. “I know.”
“How do you know?” Lachlan asked. “You’ve only spent time with her in the Shadowlands, and there aren’t really any cars—”
“Did you forget that I live here?” Duncan asked. “On this side. Where Carys was born and she lives? You don’t have any idea—”
“I understand that both of you are still vying for the affections of the nêrys ddraig,” Godrik said, “but we have been traveling for many hours and all of us should sleep. We need to find an inn or some other kind of lodging.”
Duncan whipped out his phone. “I’ll do it.” He glared at Lachlan. “And there is no vying. The vying period is over. Done.”
Lachlan said something, but Carys didn’t really hear any of it because she was staring out the window and watching the surface of the river, which was now shimmering a brilliant green and blue.
It took them another twenty minutes to find a hotel with enough rooms, and it was nearly dawn by the time they pulled into the long drive of a large country house that sat on the turn of the River Ouse.
Carys didn’t care about the grand entryway or the hushed tones of the butler who showed them to their rooms. She only cared about the bed.
She collapsed onto the down-covered mattress fully clothed and barely registered when Duncan pulled her shoes off, then gently undressed her and pulled one of his large T-shirts over her head. He tucked her under the comforter, turned off the lights, and everything in Carys shut down.
She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but she woke sometime midmorning, saw Duncan sleeping beside her, and tucked herself into his side before she closed her eyes again.
His heavy arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, and his shirt smelled of wood with a slight hint of vanilla.
She closed her eyes and saw dancing lights before she walked toward the forest. The night folded around her, and it was warm and cold at the same time. Fog kissed her cheeks, and the smell of damp pine and eucalyptus filled her senses.
She was deep in the forest.
Birds watched from the trees as a doe lay on her side, her chest heaving and her legs kicking out as her mother laid her hand on the animal’s belly.
“Shhh.”
“Mama?”
“Wait, cariad. Shhh.” Tegan stroked the deer’s belly. “You can do this, my sister.”
Carys walked around the clearing, picking up sticks and tossing them in a small pile in the middle of the trees, but her eyes kept returning to her mother. “What is she doing?”
“She’s ready to have her baby, but she’s a little bit scared.” Tegan kept stroking the side of the deer. “She doesn’t know that she already knows how to do this.”
“If I don’t know how to do something, I ask you or Dad.” Carys jumped across the pile of sticks, then went to gather more. One of the birds flitted down and playfully flew around her head, making Carys laugh.
“I can’t tell her how to have her baby,” Tegan said. “Not with words.” Tegan stroked her hand down the doe’s side. “Come on, sister. You need to stand now.”
As if she understood every word, the deer flailed a little bit but managed to get to her feet. Her sides were still heaving, but Tegan stroked her hand down the deer’s neck.
“Good, good.” She whispered something in Welsh.
Carys didn’t speak Welsh like her parents did. Sometimes they tried to get her to talk to them in Welsh, but Carys felt shy. No one at school spoke Welsh. She wished she could learn Yurok like Laura and her sisters.
“Carys, do you want to see?”
“No.” There was blood on the ferns, and it made Carys nervous.
“Birth is nothing to be afraid of. It’s natural.” Tegan soothed the deer with long strokes down her neck as the deer leaned forward, then back again. “Remember, sister, your body knows what to do.”
The doe stumbled back when the small bloody creature fell into the fern patch, nearly stepping on the tiny fawn.