Page 48 of The Queen's Huntsman
Esme nodded. “Straight into your soup, dear. Málik swept you up and brought you here. And here you’ve remained for nigh on three days.”
“Three days!” Gwendolyn sat up again, startled by the news.
Yegods!Málik had warned her. And now his warning had come true. Nay, she did not turn into a Faerie, but she’d closed her eyes and slept for days, despite that they could ill-afford for her to lie abed. “Where are my clothes?” Gwendolyn asked urgently, moving Esme out of the way. Then, hearing whispers outside her room, she rose and made her way to the door.
Those dreams… odd as they were, she knew they were omens. Some had perhaps already come to pass, and some she must prevent.
Deep in her heart, she understood that Ely and Bryn needed her, even as Trevena needed her, and nothing or no one could keep her from rushing to their aid.
She tore aside the curtain to reveal Málik and another Druid she’d not yet met but remembered from the supper. Gwendolyn didn’t wait for an introduction. “We must leave,” she said. “Now!”
ChapterTwenty-Two
The entire order of Lifer Pol Druids couldn’t have prevented Gwendolyn from leaving. Fortunately, no one tried.
This time, when she and Málik set out, they would not go alone. Esme insisted upon traveling with them. So did the young Druid Gwendolyn met outside her chamber, named Lir. Fortunately, neither would she need to spend her mother’s jewels to procure their supplies. The Druids provided everything needed, including horses and a healer.
As little time as she’d spent here, most of it abed, Gwendolyn would be heartily sorry to leave this place unexplored. Even with Esme’s ready explanations, she would depart with more questions than answers, and yet, now that she had a better understanding of the Order’s purpose, she felt certain she could return. The tales she’d heard of these men were false, and though she understood the telling of them had a purpose—to keep people away—they did not do the Order justice.
She wondered why her father never sought them because it was certain he must have searched. The map in his war room gave evidence to that, though perhaps the seeking itself was not enough. Gwendolyn was beginning to suspect that perhaps her father’s legacy was not aligned with the Druid’s purpose, just as she understood why Málik had brought her here: So she could rediscover something lost.
These Druids were more than simply scholars or ambassadors. They guarded the only remaining portal on this side of the Veil. If anyone sought them without that knowledge, it was perhaps for the sacred herbs they grew, and the visions the herbs imparted—more potent for the locus, because here is where visions were born, here in this magical, ageless place, where the impossible and the possible melded together.
The feast they’d provided upon her arrival wasn’t meant for sustenance. They’d served her a potent brew intended to arouse visions, and, indeed, it had, although, much to Gwendolyn’s trepidation, it wasn’t possible to ascertain which of these dreams were merely glimpses into the future, which were still changeable, and which had already passed.
This morning, she heartily feared that everything she’d witnessed was already done, and that she would arrive too late to save the two people she’d known longest in this life.
Pretania could wait just a while longer.
So could her mother’s people.
There was nothing she could do to save her father, nor her mother, but Ely’s cry for help was one she could and would heed. After losing so much, if she lost Ely and Bryn, too, she might never survive it. She must believe there was still a chance, though one thing was certain: If she did nothing, if she sat about feeling sorry for herself, only wondering whether she could live up to this task she was born to, it would certainly be too late. No matter that the Druids’ Crossroads remained frozen in time, the world beyond the Veil was not, and Loc would not stop until he saw this entire isle vanquished and prostrate before him.
Gwendolyn must be the one to stop him.
One quest at a time.
First, she must locate Ely and Bryn.
Preparing for their departure, she retrieved and donned her wonderful new tunic and a borrowed cloak, securing the coat with her mother’s brooch. The rest of her belongings—all but the silver armband—she entrusted to Emrys, along with her mother’s Prydein gown.
She didn’t care anymore about the shortness of her hair, or her face, but thanks to Esme, she would look the part of a warrior queen.
Once dressed, she joined her company in the glade, where Emrys stood with his staff in hand, overlooking the preparations. His wizened brow smoothed when he spied Gwendolyn.
“Your satchels have been filled, anticipating your needs. If there is aught you do not have, I will argue that you will not need it.” He gave her a wink, opening his mouth at the same time as though the gestures were physically linked.
Gwendolyn smiled. “Thank you… for everything,” she said. “I must apologize for the abrupt departure, but I hope you will receive me again.”
“You needn’t ask,” said the elder druid, reaching out to clasp Gwendolyn’s shoulder more firmly than an old man should have had the strength to allow. “I understand,” he said, with a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “’Tis oft this way with the sight. Go with the Goddess,” he said. “Return to sup with us another day. You’ll be welcome any time.”
Gwendolyn lifted a brow. “Something more than pookies?” she suggested, and Emrys barked with laughter.
By now, Esme and Lir had already retrieved the horses, making certain they were geared and settled—beautiful mares with long silver manes, large black eyes, and broad chests. These, too, were Esme’s contributions, brought, she’d said, from the Fae realms.
Their trappings were simple—nothing like the showy horse Loc had given Gwendolyn as a bridal gift. There was no gold in the saddles, no gilded horns, no armor with golden scales. They were fitted only with simple, well-oiled leather, soft and supple, so the saddle and fittings melded as closely as possible with the curves of each horse, and each to its rider.
“Where to?” Málik asked, bringing Gwendolyn the reins.
