Page 22 of The Forgotten Prince

Lir said nothing, and Esme grinned, showing a mouthful of porbeagle teeth.

“I do hope so, because then you may see what ‘flattery’ buys you.” She chortled nastily, and Gwendolyn gave Málik a sideways glance.

“See what I mean?”

Lir was too docile, never standing up for himself. And if that was the way it was to be, healer or no healer, Gwendolyn would soon regret having brought him along, especially since it left Bryn with the disadvantaged horse.

When she turned again, it was to find their conversation dismissed. Málik had returned the untouched wafers to his saddlebag, leaving them on top, within arm’s reach. “Málik,” she begged. “Please! Tell me something!”

“Very well,” he said, turning to face her. “I will tell you… something… Do you remember what I said to your uncle about the purpose of those quoits?”

Gwendolyn nodded impatiently. “You claimed they were portals?”

“I did,” he said. “At one point, there were many across these lands, all accessible to Faekind and mortals alike. But now, only one passage remains. This is the way through the Lifer Pol village.” It was, he explained, why nothing in the Druid village seemed absolute. In that location, the Féth was still discernible to mortal eyes. “When the time comes, you must not enter lest I tell you. Its boundaries push and pull against the mortal realm, forming traps. If you enter in the wrong location, you will be lost, never to return, never to be found. No one will find your bones.”

“Why would I enter without you?”

His tone revealed his impatience. “Simply promise me, Gwendolyn.”

“I said I would not! Why would I not do as you say?”

He gave her a pointed look. “Quite oft, you do not listen,” he said, and though Gwendolyn took issue with his complaint, she couldn’t argue it wasn’t true. Unfortunately, Bryn could attest to it with much aggravation, though she had mostly learned her lessons after Bryn’s demotion.

“That was the old Gwendolyn,” she reassured, a tentative smile returning to her lips. “I have changed.”

“Have you?”

“I have,” Gwendolyn insisted.

“What about the other morn?”

She knew she sounded far more innocent than she was. “What morn?”

“The pool,” he said, and Gwendolyn’s smile faltered because that was altogether a different matter. Indeed, she had a lot to say to about that as well, only now was not the time.

She lifted her chin. “I needed to see that pool,” she explained. “And since you have refused me at every turn, I took the opportunity whilst you were busy quarreling with Esme.”

There appeared a knowing glint in his eyes. “I should apprise you nothing is more capable of subverting reason than jealousy,” he said. “No good ever came of it.”

It wasn’t jealousy. Gwendolyn was queen now—and not that she should do what she pleased because of it. But sheltering her from the truth was not something that should be done. “I needed to see the pool,” she persisted.

“Needed or wanted?” he asked, and when Gwendolyn didn’t answer at once, he added, “Did it ease your mind? Or did it reveal aught more than you already knew?”

“No,” Gwendolyn said petulantly, feeling chastened, though it wasn’t fair. Emotions ruled her at the moment, so she tempered her response, knowing he wasn’t truly her subject. He was with her only because he believed in her cause.

Málik reached out as though to touch her, then dropped his hand by his side, the look in his eyes full of torment. His voice was sober when he spoke again. “Gwendolyn,” he begged. “I need you to understand the gravity of this situation. I need you to listen to me and I need you to trust me—above all, trust me.”

Gwendolyn exhaled a breath she’d not realized she’d held, her gaze dipping to the hand resting at his side. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed his touch until he’d teased her with the possibility of it. “I do trust you,” she said as sincerely as she could because it was true. “But I also need to understand what we face. You cannot keep me in the dark—I beg you, Málik! If I am to be queen, I must rule, and in order to rule, I must know what it is I must rule.”

He smiled, but the smile was sad.

He reached up now, giving her face the sweetest, gentlest caress, before withdrawing the hand, and Gwendolyn felt the separation acutely. She had to resist the urge to touch the spot where his fingers had brushed her face.

“As you no doubt may have surmised, the Lifer Pol Druids are guardians of the portal,” he continued to explain. “Scholars, as well as healers, though they have agreed to guard that portal according to our covenant.”

That was why the secrecy over the location of their village—the portal? Not simply because they had stumbled upon an abandoned Fae village?

“They’ve not kept their place so long by taking their duty lightly. The covenant is inviolable. If aught but peace is brought to either realm through any culpability of theirs, my father’s retribution will be swift and fierce. With that in mind, Emrys may not allow us to pass.”

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