Page 66 of First Light
The other two cloaked figures looked around but didn’t stop, walking past the soldiers and heading to the gates while the soldiers clad in green waited in formation. None of them spared a look for Aisling.
Aisling’s smile fell a little. “I’m sure she’s tired from flying.”
A growing trepidation grew in Carys’s chest. Her father’s twin was flying closer, circling the castle in the claws of a dragon, and she would see him soon. He would see her.
Of all the unreal things she’d seen since stepping through a fae gate, seeing her father’s face seemed the most unreal of all.
Carys asked Aisling, “Have you ever flown?”
She shook her head. “Seren tried to take me, but I was too afraid.”
The black dragon descended, the beast letting out one more ferocious roar before the gold coracle landed on the field, rocking forward to release the door. Immediately another squad of guards wearing bright red emerged while the black dragon beat its wings and flew back to the clouds, circling the castle with Cadell.
Behind the second group of guards, a dark-haired man of medium height emerged, marching toward the guards and speaking quietly to a courtier who followed on his right.
The crowd cheered in welcome, and a group of children ran past the castle, flying brightly colored kites as a group of courtiers from the castle stepped forward to greet the king’s party.
A woman, clad in a deep blue cloak, stepped forward, bowing deeply, and the dark-haired man looked up.
Carys’s breath caught in her throat. He wore a beard, and he had a barrel chest and thick arms muscled in a familiar way. He was older than her father, aged by life and years. He nodded at the courtiers, then scanned the crowd, waving to the people gathered to greet him. His eyes traveled up the castle walls, a frown marring his strong forehead.
The moment their eyes met, he froze.
Carys felt tears start to well up at the look of recognition.
Dad.
She blinked them away.
No, not her father, though he was the mirror image. A little older, a little harder. His expression was more severe, but his features were the same.
She saw him mouth a name.Seren.
She put a hand to her chest and shook her head, and the man closed his eyes.
He nodded. Not Seren. Not his daughter.
“Hail, King Dafydd!” someone shouted from the crowd in English. “Welcome to the king!”
The man turned from Carys and held his hand out to a tall woman who fell into step beside him, graceful in a green velvet dress and fur cloak. Her hair was covered, but Carys could see that it was nearly as long as her dress, dark as a raven’s wing, and braided behind her in an intricate woven pattern.
“That’s Eamer, the queen consort of Cymru.”
“Your aunt?”
Aisling nodded. “And Seren’s stepmother. She would be something like an aunt to you since she’s married to your father’s Shadowkin.”
Eamer’s eyes also found Carys in the crowd, but the woman was carefully expressionless before she looked away. The king took her hand and walked toward the castle as the crowds cheered and the dragons circled overhead.
“Now imagine that entrance on the battlefield” —Aisling spread out her arms— “with the dragons spewing fire and clearing the field before a flood of Cymric soldiers poured from their coracles and attacked.”
“Good Lord.” No wonder no one challenged them.
A few of the guards shot Aisling dirty looks but quickly looked away.
Aisling ignored the guards. “And don’t forget the archers in coracles overhead, shooting from the air.”
“Remind me not to make King Dafydd mad.”