Page 54 of The Queen's Huntsman
“A woman after my heart,” said Lir. “Who is she?”
“My mother’s maid.” Gwendolyn said. “But I must presume she is dead.”
A fresh wave of grief rushed over her, remembering Demelza’s loyal service. Even more than her own mother, Demelza had been the one to care for her, and despite that she had long outgrown her tutelage by the time she left to be wed, Demelza would be sorely missed—as one missed a favored aunt or uncle. Alas. There were so many good people whose blood stained Loc’s hands.
“Ah,” said Lir, casting her a glance beneath his dark lashes. “Bad business, all that,” he said. “I am sorry, Majesty.” It was the first time he’d used her formal title in the common tongue. She was getting used to hearingBanríon,though none of them spoke that word with the diffidence Gwendolyn was accustomed to seeing when people had addressed her father. Still, it didn’t bother her. She thanked the Druid, then, plucking up a cobnut, cracked it, and pulled out the meat, pitching the broken shells toward Málik, wondering over the peculiarities of his mood. He did not say so, but despite his call for a truce, she sensed he disapproved of this digression to search for Bryn and Ely.
Though perhaps that was not all. His mood had been six-degrees of sour since encountering Esme in the Druid village, and now she must wonder why. Was it because he disliked Esme? Or did he like her too much, and perhaps he didn’t wish for Gwendolyn to know it? Or mayhap her presence here reminded him of duties left unfulfilled?
Or… Esme had rebuffed him, and Málik was still angry over it?
Whatever the case, he wasn’t too pleased with Gwendolyn for having done the same, no matter how innocently she had done so.
And regardless—so it seemed, he’d had no right to ask her to run away with him, and she ought to tell Esme about it, except she couldn’t stomach any more discord. As much as she wished to confront Málik with these accusations, Gwendolyn knew it would not be the best course of action. She needed him.
Once again, he had consumed none of his supper, despite being the one to provide it. For her part, Gwendolyn knew she ought to eat more in anticipation of tomorrow’s travels, but her belly felt as though it were full of stinging nettles. Whether this was because of Málik’s mood, the lingering disease of her dreams, or simply the fact that they had stopped so close to where they’d encountered Loc and his men, wasn’t discernible. All she knew right now was that her stomach had grown sour, and every time she thought about Beryan’s body out there, somewhere, rotting in the river, disrespected… she couldn’t rest easy.
“I fear I’ve sent my friends into danger,” Gwendolyn fretted, and once again, it was Málik who responded.
“The Iceni might have no love for Cornwall, but I do not believe they’ll mistreat anyone who comes to them in peace. If Ely and Bryn have gone to them, they’ll be welcomed in good faith.”
Gwendolyn furrowed her brow. “How can you be so sure?”
“For what it’s worth, I believe he speaks true,” agreed Esme. “Regardless. I warrant as yet your friends will not have had time to arrive so far southeast. It will be another two days travel for them if the way is easy, and anothersennightif not. Did you say whether they rode with suitable mounts?”
Gwendolyn shrugged. “Certainly not Enbarr’s mares,” she said. “And I do not believe they could retrieve their own horses from Loc’s stables before our departure. Their removal would have been noted. Still, I must presume Queen Innogen would have given us suitable mounts, or else what would be the point of freeing us?”
Lir shrugged. “Perhaps she intended for you to be caught?”
Gwendolyn shook her head. “I did consider that, but I don’t believe it. She warned me specifically against returning—said she would kill me herself if I did.”
Lir persisted. “Perhaps she knows her son too well, and surmised he would kill you sooner than he would return you?”
Gwendolyn cast a glance at Málik, knowing that he, too, had overheard Loc’s avowal—that he intended to do precisely so. Still, Gwendolyn persisted, “I do not believe she would take that chance. Thepolitikalclimate is too unstable. If I were to die by Loc’s hands… well, he would surely make me a martyr and Queen Innogen is shrewd. She would have left nothing to chance. I do believe she will have provided horses that are hale enough for travel, and likely not from Loc’s personal stables. I’ve heard he is not kind to animals.”
“’Tis difficult to imagineKingLocrinus being kind to any creature,” suggested Esme, and Málik grunted his displeasure over the mention of Loc’s name with his title though he said nothing more. Naturally, Gwendolyn shared his disgust, but she was certain Esme intended no insult. She was coming to know the Faerie well enough to know that she was an equal opportunity antagonist, yet none of it was meant to engender ill will.
“Whatever the case, Esme is right. Even so, they must travel through Plowonida, or near it,” said Lir, as he lifted another cobnut. He tried to smash it between his teeth, but it would not break, so he cast it away with a look of disgust. “The area is much embattled,” he finished. “What chance they were waylaid?”
Málik lifted a cobnut to sniff it. Gwendolyn watched him curiously. “Quite probable,” he said. “No matter what Loc believes, the Catuvellauni will not so easily relinquish what they have built. Anyone passing through the area will be vulnerable.” He popped the cobnut into his mouth, cracked it easily, then eyed Lir with a lifted brow. However, once he put it into his mouth, he made a face and hacked it back out. Gwendolyn would have laughed if she hadn’t remembered his warning…
You’d be wise to note there are few occasions when the goddess’ creatures are made without regard to need, Gwendolyn. If you see claws… or fangs… you should run.
Gwendolyn peered from Málik to Esme, then back again, loathing that he was still so much a stranger to her—even after everything they’d endured. In some ways, she was beginning to know Esme better than him! There was so much she still didn’t know about Málik. Betimes she felt as though she knew less about him now than ever, and he was never less inclined to share his truth.
And yet, despite Esme’s assurances, his relationship with Esme aggrieved her most. Gwendolyn must have conveyed it through a glance, because when she met Málik’s eyes, his pupils dilated until they were large enough to swallow the silvery-blue.
Gwendolyn averted her gaze, and he rose from his seat before the fire, and said. “We should rest. Tomorrow’s journey will be long.”
And then he swiftly departed, wandering again into the woods. By the time he returned during the wee hours, everyone was already abed and asleep… except for Gwendolyn.
She laid there, listening to his footfalls about the campsite, and knew it was him, because she knew his cadence… knew his scent.
She heard him approach her pallet, then halt beside her, but she daren’t turn. Lying on her belly, cuddled beneath her borrowed blanket, she peered beneath her lids at the bracken in front of her, and then, after a moment, she sensed he put down an object, and turned away.
After that, it took Gwendolyn a long, long time to rest easy, and even then, she was too acutely aware of his warm Fae body lying so close.
ChapterTwenty-Six
