Page 93 of The Cornish Princess
All those questions he’d asked about the Royal Treasury, and the aldermen… he’d only wished to know if they knew what lay hidden within the vault. And yet he had surely known.She could see the truth in his eyes, and in the way he now avoided her gaze.
“Forswear your father’s crown,” he had said. But if she had done so, would her right to bear this sword also be forsaken?
Without a word, he took the sword her father offered—the prize he’d coveted all along—and then turned from her ailing father, giving Gwendolyn only the briefest of glances and a single nod as he passed her by, the look on his face perhaps one of regret, though not so much regret that he would refuse the damnable sword. He walked past Gwendolyn without a word, and then he was gone.
Gone.
Simply gone.
Not to the antechamber she had so hatefully longed to deny him—nor to the barracks where he’d spent so much of his time after his arrival. Neither to the courtyard, where he’d trained her father’s men.
Gone.
And just as surely as Gwendolyn now understood his intent, she knew he’d lied. He’d told her he’d never leave her, and now he would.
Something like vines with thorns twined about her heart, like the arms of that blue orb of flame in thefogous, twisting, twisting, turning.
Gwendolyn’s mood was foul.Upon returning to her chamber, battle weary, her clothes threadbare, and her wounds aching, she wanted to rush about screaming through the antechamber, kicking at beds, doors, and coffers.
She did not, however. She was a woman grown, or so she’d claimed so many times, and now she must behave like one, facingallher trials with her head high and shoulders straight.
Naturally, Málik had brought nothing into these chambers, so he took nothing, except the sword on his back, and the one her father gave him.
That’s all he’d ever wanted, she thought bitterly.
That bloody sword.
“You aren’t alone,” he’d said, but it wasn’t true.
Shewasalone—far more alone than she’d ever felt in all her life.
Much subdued from her former self, Ely arrived soon after Gwendolyn found her chambers. Sullen and perhaps still angry, she went about her duties, tidying Gwendolyn’s room, ordering a bath for her new mistress, and laying out a clean, new dress for Gwendolyn to wear.
Demelza didn’t come at all, and neither did she so much as pass to wave.
Apologies seemed in order, though Gwendolyn didn’t knowwhatto apologize for—for giving her heart to a tricksyfae? At least now it wouldn’t be Ely shuffling about these halls, with downcast lips and eyes. Gwendolyn would take her place.
Some things returned to normal—at least normalbeforeMálik de Danann. Reassured that he had learned his lessons, her father reinstated Bryn as her Shadow.
Mercifully, her mother also assured Gwendolyn that she meant to keep her word and allow Ely to travel with her to Loegria. Lady Ruan would be compensated for the absence of both her beloved children. Now that Málik was gone, and after everything that Gwendolyn had endured, Queen Eseld wouldn’t think of allowing her to travel without both.
Ely and Bryn were changed as well—Ely by whatever trust Gwendolyn had failed to live up to, and Bryn by his punishment for allowing his heart to rule his head. Alas, though, Gwendolyn had truly believed she was doing him a favor, just as she’d believed she was doing her father a favor by unveiling the treachery in his court.
After everything, she still couldn’t regret having exposed the traitors, but she regretted the way she went about it. Only because of her, Cunedda was dead. Her cousins were dead. Lowenna was dead. At least one of their loyal guards was dead.
And the other?Like Málik, he, too, had vanished. Though at least Ia and her family were safe. Her father’s men traveled south to see to Cunedda’s affairs, but not even to bury his brother could the King suffer a moment in the saddle. His condition worsened more every day.
By the evening before Prince Loc’s return, the King was lying abed, with only Gwendolyn and her mother allowed to attend him, aside from the two Shadows he trusted most.
Gwendolyn was beside herself with grief, because how could she leave? How could anyone expect her to wed Prince Loc now, and leave her dear, sweet father to waste away and die with no one to defend him?
Gwendolyn was the one who’d spent her entire life training to take his place. She was the one who would rule in his absence, yet she would give up everything with only the assurance that her father would survive. And here, once again, she found herself outside the palace gates, accompanied by Bryn, asking him to escort her to the glen.
“I will not say no, Highness,” he said tersely, his chin lifting defiantly. “Yet I will not say, yes. You must command me.”
Some part of Gwendolyn burned over his words, though she understood why he insisted. This time, if he must be castigated simply for doing his duty, it would not be because he was equally culpable. As his sovereign, Gwendolyn must demand his participation.
“It’s not what you think, Bryn,” she said. “I only wish to see the glen. My father,” she said, and then she hushed abruptly, because Bryn was not among those who needed to know her father’s condition. “I merely wish to see the glen.”
