Page 10 of Arise the Queen
Remember, Gwendolyn. Remember!
“So, for this offense, yournewking wrested the throne, taking advantage of the old king’s lapse in judgment, and then banished Manannán, but not his kin?”
“Precisely,” said the Púca. And then he continued to explain, “To the contrary, he demanded a favored daughter remain as a ward of his court.”
That was interesting,Gwendolyn thought. “And the old king was also banished? To the Minch, I suppose—with Manannán?”
“No, Silly Human. It was only Manannán who was banished.”
At least they were getting somewhere, Gwendolyn mused. She was no longer “Stupid Girl,” but “Silly Human.” She mighthave laughed, but she wasn’t prepared for this conversation to be over. Already, she had learned so much.
“The Old King was not banished. He removed himself—to the Forbidden Lands,it was first presumed. But there has been no sign of him there, and the Dark Prince has given up his search—or so we thought.”
“The Dark Prince… Málik?”
“Yes,” confirmed the Púca, and there appeared to be a nearly indistinguishable note of encouragement in his tone, so Gwendolyn continued.
“Bear with me now,” she begged. “I am only trying to understand. So this ‘old’ king demanded that Manannán’s daughter be made a ward of his court.”
“Yes.”
“So he could use her to his advantage?”
“Yes.”
“Against Manannán?”
“Perhaps… but no.”
Gwendolyn frowned, because the Púca’s answers never failed to confound her. For the moment, she left off with more questions, mulling over the timing of Manannán’s exile, because Málik, too, had become a ward of this new king around the same time. Therefore, he, too, must have known Manannán’s daughter—as would Esme, if, in truth, they’d all been reared together in her father’s court.
It felt to Gwendolyn as though this information had some significance, but she still couldn’t determine what. The answers floated about like forgotten wraiths, eager to be seen, but skirting away from her even as she dared to reach for them.
5
Unlike Lir, no matter how much the Púca seemed to wish to enlighten her, he did not provide straightforward answers. As with Esme, nothing ever spoken was said by mischance. Every story held a deeper meaning, and there were hidden messages inallhis revelations. The task she now faced was to determine how these pieces all fit together.
“Were thefogousalways so gloomy?” Gwendolyn asked, chatty as he. It wasn’t difficult to understand why anyone would be so disenchanted with this place. It was nothing at all like those stories she’d been told as a child, or any of Lir’s wondrous accounts.
“At first,” he said. “Even Tír na nÓg was this way.”
“The City of Light?”
“Crag and waste.”
Gwendolyn furrowed her brow. “Then why build a city here, but not in the Forbidden Lands?”
He gave her a look that said, “Stupid Girl,” even if he didn’t say it aloud.
And nevertheless, he explained everything—how the earth shook as one grew close to the red-glowing passages. The Faesettled there, initially, only to be closer to the Lake of Fire beneath Mount Slemish. But no matter how many times they’d attempted to rebuild the city, every tremor left it in ruins—a fact no Fae appreciated, despite that their city was not constructed through grueling labor, but through Fae magic. Even so, they’d blamed what they perceived as a curse upon the loss of their sacred relic, and their hatred turned to the old king, despite that they had all mutually agreed to build this city near the mines that were the reason for their sojourn to Ériu—to be closer to the adamantine, which, according to the Púca, was depleted in their homeland. Eventually, they grew so disenchanted with the fate dealt them, they put their faith in the old king’s rival and installed this new king upon the Tuatha’an throne.
Gwendolyn listened intently, feeling the old king’s pain acutely—naturally, because it was her father the people had blamed when their own lands turned to Rot. And then, once her father was gone—their once-beloved champion—they’d blamed Gwendolyn, despite that they never gave her the time to effect any change.
They reviled her, and presumably so, too, did the gods.
Why else would they favor Locrinus?
Feeling sorry for herself, she wondered why she bothered when Locrinus found it so easy to win her people’s hearts. Truly, she thought, did they even deserve her care? Why was she fighting so hard for people who seemed so ready to reject a woman in favor of a man?
