Page 78 of The Queen's Huntsman
Bryn continued. “I came to know Wihtred as my friend, and I’d not dishonor his friendship by cowering before his sire.” He removed a bronze ring from the pouch at his belt and then stepped forward to hand it to Caradoc. “I was given this by one of my kindred who dragged me from the field. I am told she took it from Wihtred’s finger. I believe it is yours.”
The elder man's eyes shone fiercely against the flame of his torch, but his thoughts were indistinguishable as the mist-filled night. He said nothing, but nodded, reaching out to accept the ring, bringing it near to his torch to examine it.
“It’s Wihtred’s,” he said, and the apple at his throat bobbed. Suddenly, his gaze shifted to Gwendolyn, and she knew… even as changed as she was, he recognized her. “What brings you to these parts, Dragon Queen?” he growled. “Has your husband cast you away so soon?”
Behind her, Málik snarled, surging forward to flank her to the right, but Gwendolyn silenced him with a hand, intending to speak for herself.
Caradoc’s words might be cruel, but Gwendolyn understood something about this man that was confirmed by the look in his eyes, and the shoulders he refused to bend—woman or not, he would not respect her if she allowed anyone else to fight her battles.
Even if she must brandish her sword and challenge him here and now.
However, she did not dismount as yet, and his gaze remained fixed upon her, his dark eyes perhaps trying to read her.
“I hear tell, he’s got himself a lovely new wife… a new princess… with a son, to boot,” he continued, taunting her, and the intimation was not lost to Gwendolyn—a son who would inherit these lands long before her own.
Once again, Málik growled, the sound as feral as any beast Gwendolyn had ever heard, but Caradoc did not avert his eyes from her, and fortunately, she did not have to gesture to Málik again. His hands remained firmly upon his reins, although she knew from experience that he could retrieve that sword at his back before any man present could even attempt to wield his weapon.
Still, Caradoc had twice their numbers, and Gwendolyn herself had only once seen battle up close—during the raid in Chysauster. Málik said nothing, though he didn’t have to. Caradoc noted the protective gesture, lifting a thick brow, his fists clenching then unclenching at his sides. His eyes snapped to Málik, then back to Gwendolyn.
Very calmly, Gwendolyn unsheathed the bastard sword from her scabbard and pointed the shining length at Caradoc. “If you know all this, Old Man, you must also realize I’ve no love for that fiend. I will thank you for keeping his name from your lips regarding me or mine.”
Determined to show no fear, she cantered slowly forward, still brandishing the bastard sword, extending it so the blade caught his torchlight.
The sword outstretched revealed the runic inscriptions along the flat of the blade.
His torch bearers fell back as his swordsmen moved to the fore, preparing to engage if their chieftain gave them the word, but a flicker of interest entered Caradoc’s eyes.
Their gazes remained locked for a moment before his dark eyes shifted again to Málik… then to Esme and then to Lir, taking their measures, each in turn. His dark eyes glinted as he moved his hand to his longsword, but still did not unsheathe it.
“Do you know what that says?” he asked, hitching his chin at the sword Gwendolyn held, noting the words of power. But before Gwendolyn could speak, Esme cantered forward, her body swaying with every step of her mare’s as she came to a halt on Gwendolyn’s left.
“More to the point, do you know what it says?” asked the Faerie and Caradoc’s gaze swiveled to meet Esme’s gaze as her lips parted to reveal her porbeagle teeth. “Kingslayer,” she said in a singsong tone. “In the tongue of my people.” She let him consider that an instant before adding, “The question is, which king does it call to slay?”
Gwendolyn lifted a brow. She had known Esme would not hold her tongue for long, and now she was flanked by two Fae, and Caradoc’s gaze peered behind her to consider Lir, who sat quietly still, garbed in his unmistakable Druid robes. After a moment, his gaze returned to Gwendolyn. “What do you want of me, Dragon Queen?”
Gwendolyn chose her next words as carefully as she had her escort, knowing that if she spoke wrongly, the hiss of metal would follow. “I come with a proposition,” she said. “Even now, Locrinus gathers his troops. At most, he is no more than asennightaway from descending upon your lands and seizing them for his own. And mark me, Caradoc, he will seize them. He does not come unprepared, and if you believe the Iceni were fierce, I have seen his men do battle, and they’ll not retreat, no matter how many fall. He has more than enough to spare. If you ride to face him, by the time he is done, you’ll have no men remaining, and Plowonida will be lost.”
Caradoc shrugged. “I am more than willing to die for my lands.”
“Naturally,” said Gwendolyn. “As I would for mine. Yet if you would bide your time, allow him to take it… for now… and come fight beside me to reclaim Trevena, once we have turned the red tide, I will return here again by your side, and fight for your city.”
The elder man’s face twisted with outrage. “You would have me abandonmylands to fight foryours?”
“A temporary measure,” Gwendolyn argued. “Locrinus will be embattled from the moment he takes Plowonida. The Iceni will not care who the enemy is . They will rise quickly against an Outlander, even as they would if you were to restore your claim.”
And yet, neither would the Iceni take those lands for their own. This law was known. And, if not, the Iceni would have already occupied Plowonida by now, thwarting him for all time.
His expression softened, if only a little, so Gwendolyn continued.
“After we have retaken your city, we’ll restore it, and I will help you fortify it. I will provide copper and gold from my wheals, and under my protection, we will call it Lundinion in honor of your eldest son, even as I will call you my friend.”
Caradoc scoffed. “And how do you expect to do all that with seven warriors? I warrant, even with two Fae and one Druid, that will not be enough to defeat Locrinus and his armies. I hear tell he’s amassed thousands.”
Gwendolyn lifted her chin. “Let him raise ten thousand,” she said. “Like you, I would face him alone, but I will not have to.” She sat straighter in her saddle, grinning down at the would-be king, but there was little mirth in the effort. “Will you allow a slip of a girl to be more fearless than you?” she taunted.
The elder man laughed then, turning briefly to address his men. He shook his head as he returned his attention to Gwendolyn. “What you speak is folly!” he said. “You’ll never win against so many.”
“You might not, I will,” Gwendolyn argued with certainty. She touched her crown to make her point, and the stars gleamed at her touch, flashing brighter than Caradoc’s torches.
