Page 160 of First Light
“Dragon fire cannot banish this magic,” Cadell said. “She’s channeling fae sorcery.”
“But how?” Lachlan wiped the rain from his face. “She’s human!”
“Is she?” Dafydd’s mouth was set in a firm line. “Orla’s consort is fae.”
Duncan and Lachlan looked at each other.
“What does that mean?” Carys blinked back the rain, trying to shield her face from the weather as driving rain turned to sleet.
Cadell stepped between Carys and the rain. “Nothing is born in the Shadowlands save by magic.”
“You’re saying that Regan isn’t a Shadowkin?”
“Children can be born here,” Lachlan shouted. “Fae and humancanhave children.”
“We would have known,” Dafydd said. “If the queen of Éire bore a fae child, the entirety of Briton would?—”
“It doesn’t matter right now. Whatever Regan is, she’s powerful and she’s dangerous,” Carys said. “And we have to stop her.”
Duncan lifted his dragon-steel sword. “If she’s part fae, this will kill her.”
“We need to keep going.” Lachlan pressed forward.
They climbedthe hill to the top and stumbled over the edge where a strange calm enveloped the cottage that Duncan called home. There was light grey smoke curling from the chimney, coming in rapid puffs.
“She’s burning the journals.” Carys bolted for the cottage door.
Duncan and Lachlan shouted behind her. “Carys, no!”
The door swung open, Carys tumbled through, and the door slammed shut.
Regan was sitting by the fire, paging through Seren’s journals and casually tossing them into the flames. “It took you long enough.”
Carys wiped the rain from her face as Cadell pounded on the door. “You can’t hurt me.”
“I might.” Regan looked up, closed the journal she was reading, and tossed it into the fire.
“No!” Carys lunged for the fireplace, but Regan lifted a hand, and she froze.
“What did you see?” Regan narrowed her eyes. “I opened these books and saw nothing. Blank page after blank page. What magic are you playing with, Brightkin?”
Carys blinked. “What?”
“See? You’re not lying.” Regan stood and leaned against the table, picking through the crate of journals. “Which irritates me. I hate not knowing magics. Some spell has been put over these books, but I can’t discover their magic. It’s not fae. It’s not human. I should be able to read them, and I cannot.” She wrinkled her nose. “This smells of the old gods.”
More pounding at the door, and then glass shattered and Cadell reached a massive arm into the cottage before Regan lifted an arm and shoved him back.
“How did you get so strong?” Carys was still frozen, but she didn’t fear Regan, not with the smell of the Crow Mother on her. “My uncle thinks you’re half-fae.”
“Does he?” The corner of Regan’s mouth turned up. “That would be quite thescandal, wouldn’t it? The daughter of Queen Orla a halfling mutt?” Regan’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Unwelcome in human courts or fae. What kind of abomination would she be?”
“You are.” It was clear as day. “Nothing is born in the Shadowlands save by magic.”
“And dark magic at that,” Regan hissed in her face. “A hybrid creature that belongs nowhere. Sound familiar, Carys Morgan?”
“I’m not fae,” she said. “Nothing about me is fae.”
“But you’re not entirely Brightkin either, are you?” Regan stared at her, lifting her chin and gazing into Carys’s eyes. “She was such a plain girl, your sister. But she had a scar on her neck.” Regan ran a finger down Carys’s throat. “Did you know that? A battle scar. The scar made her interesting at least. You have nothing.”