“I will delay for as long as possible,” Callum assured us when we stopped in anticipation of our separation. I had ridden with Marcus, needing the comfort of his closeness, however false it was, to keep at bay the memory of the night before, the men and horses disappearing screaming into the night. The unnatural eyes of the hounds. The feeling of power that had surged through me as the Severn responded to the threat against us. “If I wish to keep breathing, I will have to explain why I let you go as soon as I arrive so I will endeavour to arrive slowly.” His broad smile flashed beneath his beard.
He glowered in Gideon’s direction. “You keep her safe.”
Gideon raised an eyebrow in my direction before a smirk tugged at his lips.
“Of course, Callum. It is my pleasure and my duty,” he said formally, with a glint that belied his tone. Annoying man.
Callum’s mouth thinned but he chose not to react, turning to me with some final advice.
“Get to Rion as soon as you can. Once you are in Mercia, you are protected. Until then, you’re fair game. Whoever gets to you first will have the advantage, and their interests may not align with yours.” He glanced at Gideon. “York would use you, and the Albans would keep you. Londinium has agents this side of the border, and when they realise you are alive, they will be coming for you both. You should be reasonably safe here; Gwynedd and Mercia have long been allies, though Devyn’s return may stress those ties some. Best you keep who you are to yourself as long as you can.”
My mind was reeling at the download of new information. I had been confused by the different factions on the Council, but the politics between the Briton nations was entirely new to me. I nodded absently at the one constant direction I had been given: keep my identity secret. Got it. Hide my abilities. As Callum well knew, my command of magic was far from under my control. Keeping it concealed would be easier if our lives stopped being threatened.
“Swear to me,” he insisted.
“Swear what?” I asked, distracted by my swirling thoughts.
“Swear that you will not reveal who you are to anyone unless your lives are at risk,” he said.
“Who would I tell?” I had a hard enough time digesting the information myself, and I had only the loosest idea of who and what the Lady of the Lake was. Why on earth would I go blabbing to strangers, especially since I had nowhere near her legendary power?
“Fine. I swear,” I conceded, under Callum’s unwavering glare.
Marcus echoed my promise.
Gideon lifted a brow at Callum. “Promises are for fools. I do not give them.”
“Gideon,” Callum growled.
“It’s her secret.” Gideon lifted a shoulder carelessly. “I will not reveal it before she does.”
That, it seemed, would have to suffice. We would be in Carlisle before long anyway. Where my brother lived. And there the truth must all, surely, be revealed.
Chapter Fifteen
We rode for miles, and I was uncomfortably aware of Gideon, who had barely acknowledged my presence. Finally we came into view of Dinas Brân and, from our vantage point high on a hill, we looked down into the golden valley spread out before us; the stone tower was the most welcome sight I could recall seeing in my life. The sun cast soft light across the wooded valley and a slight evening mist was starting to seep across the meadows. The fallen autumn leaves rustled as we made our way through the dappled light under the trees. My mind began to tumble with worry. Were they here yet? Had his condition worsened? Was he…?
I glanced over at Marcus as we arrived at the entrance to the castle, which was a lot less welcoming up close. The outer wall was high and solid, and the central tower loomed over us in the growing dark.
Gideon hailed the sentry, who was no more than a dark shadow peering down on us from above the gate.
“Ho there! Open the gate,” he called up.
“Who goes there?” the voice called down. The tone was flatly unfriendly.
Gideon huffed a laugh in my ear. “Well, lady, what name would you have us enter under? I assure you mine is unlikely to gain us entry.”
“Tell him we are…” I racked my brain for inspiration. “Weary travellers,” I finally offered weakly.
I could practically feel Gideon’s eyes rolling in his head.
“We travel in the name of the King of Mercia,” he called up, ignoring my suggestion. “We have a message for Lord Rhodri.”
A second man-shaped shadow appeared above the gate, no more welcoming than the first. “The Lord of the Lakelands is no friend to those who dwell here. If you have a message, deliver it and begone.”
“You will deny weary travellers a bed and food, my lord?” Gideon challenged the newcomer, using my words despite his scoffing. I sat straighter in the saddle, unable to let the moment pass unmarked.
The second figure disappeared and the shadows grew longer. What if they refused even to let us in to explain. Should we announce to all here at the gate that we were here to meet Devyn? Was Devyn already here? Was that why they were so unfriendly to strangers? No, that made no sense. If Devyn were here then they would have expected us. My stomach sank, the expectation that had been building since morning fizzling slowly out of my tired body.
“He’s not here,” I said out loud, to myself as much as my companions.
“How do you know?” Marcus’s
