Page 19 of Arise the Queen
Why should any of these rude little creatures endeavor to make her life easier?
She gave another huff, and one flew up her nose. Gwendolyn sneezed, cursing them toIfreann. Swatting them away, she covered her face, even more determined to ignore them, but they giggled, returning louder and more persistent than before.Worse than midge flies!
Was the entire Fae realm conspiring against her?
Gwendolyn had come to terms with this ordeal, but the entire experience now left her wearied and reluctant to face another day.
There was so much to do, and she hadn’t the first notion of how to begin.
All of yesterday’s self-assurances now fell by the wayside because it was one thing to march along through these endlessburrows, seeking a mysterious lady, but eventually the march must end, and it was the end she feared…
The Fae king.
What if, after all, she was stuck here?—as Lir suggested, never to see the light of day! What if the Púca and thesepiskieswere never meant to be helpful? What if instead they were meant to waylay her? What if Gwendolyn were destined to wander these burrows evermore, never actually finding this City of Light?
Wake!screamed thepiskies, their demand a wail of voices, and her own littledeamhanjoined this chorus, demanding she stop feeling sorry for herself. Gwendolyn had no choice but to comply.
Removing the shielding arm from her eyes, she said, “Curse you and curse you!” But to whom the expletive was directed was uncertain. In her present mood, it could be anyone—Málik and Esme included. But also this damnable Púca, whose moods were as volatile as her own.
Satisfied with having roused her, thepiskiesflew away, convening near the cavern ceiling where they remained, their flickering forms coming as close to resembling a morning sun as this cold, grey world could provide.
More than anything, Gwendolynmissed the gentle way Demelza used to rouse her—and even Ely’s annoying habit of bounding into her room unbidden.
How simple life was then.
But… she had a task to fulfill. And the sooner she arose, the sooner she could locate this mysterious lady, and the sooner she could return to her true purpose—her own lands and her people. Resigned to her wakeful state, she sat and stretched.
It was impossible to say what the hour could be, as there was no variance from one moment to the next. But fortunately, she could now see well enough to make out things thatweren’t so apparent before—the spider webs stretching across the speleothem as well as the patchwork stains along the granite walls, in brilliant shades of orange, white, and pink. Yawning, she patted the tips of her fingers across her lips, then reached down absentmindedly to press those same fingers along the small of her back, anticipating a pang that never materialized…
Her brows lifted in surprise.
Gone?
Healed?
Her injuries were quite real—the bruise on her bottom and the pang in her knee. But though she was tired, her bruises no longer ached. Somehow, despite that she had slept once again on a cold bed of stone, without a blanket or even a pillow, she felt… good.
Only to be sure, Gwendolyn tested her knee, stretching the injured leg, and she knit her brows when the knee did not ache.
Forsooth, it was as though an entire year of torment had melted from her bones—as though her rest in this Faerie realm had healed her body, if not her heart. And suddenly, recalling the visage in the pool last night, she crawled over to the edge of the berm, peering down into the crystalline water. But the reflection gazing back was her own, precisely as she had always known it to be.
She frowned.
How strange.
Deciding last night’s vision must have been a trick of the light, or mayhap a dream wrought from this Faerie realm and her frustration, she rose, preparing to leave.
However, as there was so little to gather, there wasn’t much to do. She picked up her sword and sack, then sat, watching the Púca sleep, waiting for him to wake. He was such a curious little fellow—so many personalities in one. He oft made her smile, even as she longed to tug out his whiskers.
Last night, during what Gwendolyn perceived to be the middle of the night, she’d sensed him draw near to inspect her, and once he was satisfied that she slept, he’d crept back to his perch.
Crotchety though he might be in this form, he was growing on her, and he must have sensed her watching, because he cracked an eyelid, and Gwendolyn smiled.
“Silly girl, sleeping all day, let us be away,” he said, and rose, arching his back in a good long stretch, then leaping down to the stream. But there, once more, he had a good long drink, lapping so clamorously that Gwendolyn felt compelled to tease him. “Will you drink the entire pond?”
“If I wish,” he replied, pouncing back up and then, and without another word, or a glance behind to make certain Gwendolyn would follow, he jumped down from their hideaway ledge, and ambled down the path.
With a grunt of displeasure—regretting her recent thoughts—Gwendolyn rose and followed. Regardless of the Púca’s moods, she sensed answers were near at hand. She must keep the faith that Málik had considered this journey and that Esme, for all her distemper, was on Gwendolyn’s side. And really, so much as Málik and Esme had supported her, she could not believe they would knowingly, and willingly, sabotage this quest.
