Page 12 of Arise the Queen
Whatever the case, Faepolitikswere not hers to fix or change, and Gwendolyn had far more pressing matters to contend with. She did not come to change life for these Fae. She came to fix her own lands and people, not meddle in Fae affairs.
It was well and good to listen to the Púca’s stories, but she needed only to apply them where it served her, and this must be,foremost, to find some way to collect her sword—theonething she most needed to convince Baugh to follow a granddaughter he’d never bothered to know.
Gwendolyn sighed then, considering her grandfather.
She couldn’t help but think about her mother as a child. Did they miss her not at all? Did they wonder about her offspring? Would they be pleased to learn their grandchild lived, or did they even know there had been a coup?
Surely, they must, though, after so many months, and no word from the Prydein Confederacy, and nothing from Caledonia, Gwendolyn only prayed it wasn’t for lack of care that her grandfather’s people had not ridden to her aid.
More than anything, she wished to believe that her own flesh and blood would champion her when asked, and that the sword would only be proof that her plight was that of the Righ Art, the High King of this land.
As for her mother… Gwendolyn hadn’t had the first moment to consider what it meant that Queen Eseld was alive. She only had the wherewithal to take heart in that she might now have the chance to make things right with the woman who gave her life.
Gwendolyn longed to hug her mother again. It no longer mattered to her whether Queen Eseld returned this affection, or whether she criticized Gwendolyn’s smile, or hounded her to live up to some measure of excellence she feared she could not.
None of that mattered.
The only thing that truly mattered was that Gwendolyn sorely missed her, and she must now keep the faith that Esme intended to honor the spirit of their bargain, even if she’d not kept her word.
Alas, even if Gwendolyn won against this Fae king, who was to say Esme would ever reveal her mother’s whereabouts? Fae did not lie, but Esme wouldn’t have to twist words to keep fromrevealing the truth. She was quite adept at disappearing when it suited her. But, at the moment, this was neither here nor there.
Come what may, Gwendolyn could not turn her back on this quest. But even if she could, her fate was sealed the moment Málik shoved her through that portal.
There was only one way out of this place…
But even that was uncertain.
6
They journeyed for at least two more days, though Gwendolyn only surmised as much because they’d stopped twice to rest. As to be expected, anytime she inquired about the hour, the Púca answered with his normal twist of words.
“Time in our world is not the same as in yours,Banríon na bhfear.”
Queen of men,he’d said, and Gwendolyn smiled to hear it, pleased with this progress, until the Púca spoke again, wresting a frown.
“It could be that when you return, you’ll arrive as a crone to watch your kingdom burn… or, could be you’ll appear again as a babe in your cradle, with all you’ve suffered to remain your fate.”
Gods!The notion was untenable.
Neither of those fates would be the least bit welcomed.
Indeed, what point in any of this if Gwendolyn must return to witness her kingdom’s destruction? Or, if once more she must be deposited as a babe in her crib, only to watch her uncle and family be slain again, her father murdered, her city stolen, her hopes all dashed, and her friends once more prepared to betray her?
Orto marry Locrinus again!
She could not bear it.
She’d sooner never return at all.
Gwendolyn expelled a breath she’d not realized she’d been holding, frustrated, but pleased to learn she was making progress. She was no longer “Stupid Girl,” or even “Silly Human.” She had graduated to “Queen of Men,” though she still didn’t know how long they’d been traveling, or how far they had to go.
It wasn’t possible to gauge the hour without the aid of the sun or moon, but she could feel the hours spent marching in the arches of her feet, growing more and more tender as they trudged along. But it wasn’t until waking on the third day that Gwendolyn realized how little she had eaten. And despite that, she was even less hungry than she was at the beginning of their journey. Her belly complained only from worry. Shouldn’t she have by now been tempted to gobble the entire sack full of Hob cake? Or mayhap she’d already done that and simply didn’t remember.
Shrugging the sack from her shoulder, she peeked within, only to be sure, and sure enough, the sack was still full—or as full as she had dared to fill it. Truth be told, she had never counted on traveling without Esme, and she’d only grabbed what she could to keep from being so much a burden—so much for that.
Closing the sack again, she returned it to her shoulder, counting it a blessing that she wasn’t hungry. One bite was more than enough to sour her on the taste of Hob cake altogether. As it was with any Fae concoction, it was infinitely more distasteful than to simply not enjoy the flavor. Every bite brought a vivid memory to life, and somehow, Gwendolyn managed to keep Málik off her mind. The last thing she needed right now was to be reminded of him—to remember a meal they’d shared, or taste his lips… Far, far better to listen to a grumbling belly.
“You never said… who is this lady we seek?”
