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The city’s glow was dim as we arrived in the cover of darkness. A few lights burned boldly in a foreboding citadel, not white and shining like Sieffre’s palace. Most rooftops in the city and in the citadel’s yard were thatch, except the slate one on the main citadel itself.
I feel like a thief, Seren said.
No one’s awake. Except a few guards. I doubt they can see us on this gloomy night.
We are nothing but a shadow to them. Seren landed with a crunch on the courtyard’s crushed shells.
I inhaled the scent of freshwater. The city must have been on the edge of a massive river. I was so focused on the light as we drew closer that I didn’t look beyond to the river. Did the city have a mass of docks like Cynwrig? The Dillion Sea beside Sieffre’s palace waved with a lapping tide. Fishermen caught loads of fish. I imagined the same situation here.
No one came as I slid off Seren’s back. No guards, although I sensed them around the perimeter.
They must believe we mean them no harm, Seren said. Surely Siana must expect us.
My heart thundered in my chest. She might have discerned my light and told the guards to stay back, but why would she not be here to greet us?
I stepped timidly toward the entrance, noting the fire baskets that burned on either side of the heavy wood doors. The smoke mixed with the freshwater air.
A creak broke the silence, and the doors parted. A glow blinded me for several seconds before a silhouette filled the doorway.
I froze. This was the light. The person standing before me carried the light I had followed across the country. I blinked and focused on the brilliance, comparing it to the darkness, like the morning sun climbing over a black mountain. As the person stepped through the doorway, the shadows fell, revealing a face illuminated by the fire baskets’ light.
My heart’s racing halted. Its heavy thud almost knocked me to my knees.
A man—who was physically at the age of maturity. Mid-thirties by mortal years. Slightly older than Owein. Ten years older than Kelyn.
This was not Siana.
Not Siana.
The man’s light wasn’t as bright as that of an emrys, but he had to be one nonetheless. No mortal shone with such intensity, yet the man’s shoulder-length hair was as black as coal, and his skin was tan. His eyes most definitely were not green. He was no emrys I’d ever seen.
A rippling insanity brewed under my skin.
Who did I just fly across this infernal country to find?
I didn’t know what to do, or say, so I waited. Seren nudged me in the back, showing me she was there for support, urging me to say something, but she too was speechless.
“You made it,” the man said. “Don’t stand there astonished. I’ve been expecting you for weeks. Your entrance into the mortal realms didn’t escape my notice. I knew you’d find your way here sooner or later.”
“You’re not Siana,” I said.
He chuckled. “I’m her descendent.”
“Descendent?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’m Caedryn.” He took a step toward me and swept his arms wide in welcome. “And who might you be?”
“Niawen… and Seren.”
“Well, Niawen and Seren, welcome to Islwyn, capital of Rolant. It’s not as elegant as King Sieffre’s city, I’m told, but my home is quite a comfortable place to stay the winter.”
“Where’s Siana?” My eyes roved over Caedryn. He wore a finely embroidered tunic and woolen britches in olive green. His boots were laced up his shins. His build was tall and slender like the emrys, not all bulk like Kenrik.
I must quit comparing everyone I meet. But Caedryn’s physique was an unpleasant reminder of those like him, and even more of a reminder of those who weren’t.
“Siana lives beyond the wilderness.” Caedryn skipped down the five front steps. “It would take some time to travel there. Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll tell you about her. You must rest. Please.” He gestured to the entrance.
“You’re an emrys,” I said.
