Page 80 of The Queen's Huntsman
Heedless of how it might appear, Gwendolyn slid down from Aisling, nearly tumbling to her knees. Hot tears burned her eyes as she rushed to embrace Ely. They collided, arms enfolding one another, cheeks wet with tears. “I missed you,” she said, with feeling.
“I missed you too,” returned Ely.
ChapterThirty-Eight
The gambit worked.
Gwendolyn now had the entire Catuvellauni army and people at her back, marching into Dobunni territory.
Scarcely better off than the Durotrigan refugees, they seemed hopeful, chattering amidst themselves, some jesting, some laughing as well.
Somehow, Caradoc had sequestered more than three hundred souls out in the fens, with a quarter of those numbers being well-trained warriors, and a third of those mounted.
The younger children rode in wagons led by ponies and donkeys while the elder brood walked alongside their mothers—girls and boys alike, quick to lend a hand when the wagons stalled in the mire.
They’d also brought half a dozen head of cattle, a trip of goats, and an immense flock of sheep along with several dogs.
Inconceivable though it might be, they’d somehow kept and fed so many beasts.
The journey was slow, taking twice the number of days that it took to arrive, but eventually, they rode out of the wetlands, and wended their way into higher country, staying off the roads in case the Loegrian army ventured too far south.
Gwendolyn suspected they would be en route by now.
Locrinus had too long coveted Plowonida to be diverted from his ambition. She remembered how excitedly he’d spoken of it during their Promissory feast, how his amber eyes had lit over the prospect of founding a city in his honor. But there would be no Troia Nova if Gwendolyn had anything to do with it. His dream would be the first thing she would take from him, and thereafter, everything he cherished, including his mistress and child.
Esme had once asked her what she might do with Habren, and Gwendolyn still didn’t know the answer to that question. But if the child lived, she knew he would remain a threat to her reign, illegitimate or nay. But could she take the life of a child?
Must she?
Life was so cruel.
Hadn’t she learned as much already?
Contemplating this, and more, she reached for Borlewen’s dagger at her waist, fingering the dragon hilt.
Gwendolyn didn’t have a cruel streak, but she couldn’t deny her desire for vengeance, and so far, Loc had taken every one of her family members. Turnabout would be fair play, and despite that something must be done with the child, she needn’t decide today.
Today, she only needed to move her people to safety.
Gwendolyn felt a tremendous responsibility now that she had embarked upon this quest, and there were too many who would suffer if she failed.
But she would not fail.
To be sure they kept every advantage, she was determined no one should spy them. Locrinus was not well-favored in these parts, but there were still some who would be too afraid of his wrath not to run and tell. Or some who might covet the gold he’d put into their palms. For Gwendolyn’s plan to work, it was crucial that he not learn how far she’d come, nor that she’d pulled together both Durotrigan and Catuvellauni refugees—not that their numbers would concern him as yet. But it was better that he heard nothing, and if they were lucky, he would think her dead.
No doubt he had underestimated her.
Gwendolyn knew these lands, and she had a bond with these tribes that no Outlander could presume.
She had not yet counted her warriors, but she surmised that, between Durotriges and the Catuvellauni, there would be a few more than two hundred to command once they rose to battle. More than enough to take and hold Trevena if all went according to her plan.
Reconsidering Bryn now, she cast him a glance.
He was riding beside Ely’s intended, perhaps taking this opportunity to apprise his sister’s new husband about hownotto deal with his sister.
Gwendolyn knew he would be gentle, but firm, and his commination would be well considered. Ely was clearly overjoyed, and he’d never intentionally ruin his sister’s pleasure after these harrowing few months—no more than he would risk this new alliance by angering the chieftain’s only remaining son.
Since she’d not explained her plans to him beforehand, his response in the fens surprised her. More than anything, she admired his dedication, and she vowed that she would never again question him or take him for granted. Come what may, he would be her Shadow, and she would not keep him from his duty.
