The Keys to the Realms (The Dream Stewards) Read Free

poured first for her mistress. “ It was over nearly as quickly as it began, and I came to you straight away.”
    “Just now I awoke knowing that a threat had been thwarted.” Alwen accepted the cup with a nod of thanks and a pensive frown. “Tell me what happened.”
    “Hywel was quick to react, but we were nearly too late.” Glain began to recount the incident, but the pounding echo of determined boot heels in the hall stopped her short. “He is angry.”
    Alwen almost smiled. “And wouldn’t you be, if a soul-sucking wraith had come for you in the dead of night?”
    Hywel burst through the door with unspent rage, Ynyr close on his heels. “ That one.”
    Hywel pointed directly at Glain, staring at her beneath a glowering brow and shaggy dark curls. He carried himself with a stag-like grace and the physical confidence of a man who knew how to handle himself. Even half-dressed he was a commanding presence . If Hywel knew fear, he would never admit it. “ Fortunately for me, she is fierce, and quick-witted.”
    He snatched the cup from Glain and gulped the contents, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and held the cup out for more. “What manner of creatures were they?”
    “Very old and very obscure black magic,” Alwen said. “The Cythraul demon is a taker of souls, brought from the netherworld and given new form in this one. They are mindless creatures that serve this one purpose, and they answer only to the mage who summons them. You were very lucky. They rarely fail to accomplish their task.”
    Alwen gestured to Glain. “Bring another chair.”
    “I will stand.” Hywel swallowed his second cupful and seemed to find some comfort in the spirits, if not in the Fane’s defenses. “You claimed I would be safe in this place. I trusted in that.”
    “Indeed, you are safe, Hywel. Are you not standing before me now, in full form? And was it not my second you only moments ago credited with your rescue? Had the Cythraul come for you anywhere but here, you would not have survived.”
    Hywel snorted and glared even harder at Alwen. “Had I been anywhere but here, I wonder, would the Cythraul have come for me at all?”
    Alwen offered a half-shrug, as if to concede the point, and handed Glain her cup, still half full, and folded her hands in her lap. “How is it you are in residence tonight, Hywel? We’ve heard nothing of you these last few weeks.”
    “I came seeking respite from a bitter campaign.” Hywel’s scowl turned somber. “My father passed on to the next life some weeks ago, and ever since I have been forced to defend his borders— my borders—from that thieving marauder Anarawd of Gwynedd.”
    Alwen raised one eyebrow in a show of reproach. “I believe that ‘thieving marauder’ is the rightful king of Gwynedd. And your uncle, if memory serves me.”
    “There has never been love between the House of Aberffraw and the House of Dinefwyr,” Hywel explained. Aberffraw was the castle court of Gwynedd, and Dinefwyr the ruling seat of Seisyllwg . “When my grandfather divided his lands, he also divided his sons. My father’s death has given my uncle cause to rejoice and an excuse to extend his reach. I have had no peace at all this past fortnight.”
    Emrys, interim captain of the castle guard, bulled into the room flanked by the headman of Hywel’s personal guard. “My apologies, Your Grace. I’ve only just heard that you had arrived and about the threat on your life.”
    Hywel barely acknowledged Emrys. “And just how long do you suppose I would live if I announced my every step?”
    “If I had been alerted once you were on the grounds,”—Emrys struggled to maintain the proper deference—“we might have taken other precautions.”
    Glain felt a twinge of empathy for Emrys. He was the most capable ranking officer in the Cad Nawdd, aside from Aslak, and the appropriate man to serve as captain in Aslak’s absence. However, Emrys lacked the confidence that might have come with