Page 34 of Arise the Queen
As she was now.
Her tear-sheened gaze lifted to find Málik’s, and the emotion she encountered in the depths of his silver-blue eyes was abittersweet storm. Hewouldkill her. He would. He might not like it, but he would on the King’s command.
As a matter of habit, he calibrated the blade in his hand, and Gwendolyn recognized the gesture, and knew fear.
Her gaze skittered to Esme’s once more, and found her bright green eyes a perfect mirror to Gwendolyn’s emotions—sorrow, terror, regret…
Only you can sway my father before he strikes you down.
If you do not, blood will spill, and it will not be his…
Watching the display of emotions cross her face, amused, Aengus cast his head back and, with hands akimbo, roared with laughter. Clearly, he believed he’d won… and perhaps he had. Like it or not, Málik was prepared to strike.
“I shall give you one chance to flee…now…” He slid his tongue across his porbeagle teeth as though relishing what came next. “Crawl back to your mortal world, to your worthless kinfolk… else the one you believe I sent to aid you will be the one who takes your head.”
He motioned once more for Málik to come forward, and to Gwendolyn’s horror, Málik obeyed, once again, calibrating his weapon.
In Málik’s hands, that blade was a death sentence even to the most tried and true of warriors. His skill was unparalleled. Even if Gwendolyn had a weapon on her person, she could never best him.
Her heart beat so loudly, she was certain everyone in the hall could hear it. As an act of preservation, she once again pinched her cloak together, as though the simple act could defend her from the warning in his eyes.
Go!
Leave!
Run!
Flee!
The tension in the hall grew palpable. Every Fae held his breath, and if any were preoccupied before, no longer. All eyes rested upon the dais, the entire hall gathering to watch, bodies cramming close, like spectators at an execution.
Aengus himself took a step back, away from the sword, as though he meant to allow Gwendolyn space to come closer. Offering a flourish of his hand, he said with glee, “The sword you would wield in the name of your kingdom was fashioned, not by the hands of your finest of blacksmiths, but by the Lord of the Sea!”
Manannán.
Gwendolyn blinked.
Time and space seemed to halt entirely, because it was Manannán who’d bespelled the sword—Manannán who’d forged it, as well.Hewas the Lord of the Sea… not merely a hoarder of weapons. He’d also forged them.
And now, another flood of memories came rushing at Gwendolyn.…
The bargain Manannán struck with Aengus to send his golden-haired daughter to the new king’s court… presenting her as Niamh of the Golden Hair. But that was not her true name, and she had never once revealed it, despite knowing Aengus’. Manannán told her what it was, arming her with the knowledge to defend herself, and she had finally let it be known on the day she’d compelled him to release her from his court. She’d had to. He’d meant to keep her for himself, despite that his foster son had already asked for her hand in wedlock. But when Gwendolyn refused, Aengus slew her, and he slew her again every time she dared to beg for her freedom. The last and final time she’d stood before him on that very dais, he taken Málik’s blade, the Answerer, and set it to her throat, commanding her to speak her own true name so he could compel her as he couldMálik. She had believed Málik would save her, but to her dismay, even knowing what would come next, he had remained resolute.
It was the fifth, and last time Gwendolyn asked.
Gwendolyn blinked, remembering… looking first at Málik where he stood, a cry of protest frozen upon his beautiful lips, a look of terror in hisicebourneeyes.
Lir cannot help you,Esme had insisted.
Bryn cannot help you.
Neither Málik nor I can help.
Because that was true…
Unlike her battle against Locrinus, this fight was Gwendolyn’s alone.
There is no more you will accomplish if you face him with five than you will if you face him alone…
