Page 50 of Arise the Queen
His eyes narrowed owlishly. “It is not who I promised, but what I promised that has any bearing. I vowed that once the time arrived, I’d return to this land to ensure its preservation.”
“You… alone?” Her tone was laced with sarcasm.
“Nay,banríon na bhfear,though as you can well imagine, I am not a man without influence.” He winked, unperturbed by her insolence, despite Gwendolyn’s attempt to nettle him. She nodded, weighing her next question, realizing that, with Amergin’s canniness, she must choose her questions more wisely. Despite that, she perhaps wasted a question because curiosity could not still her tongue.
“Was this friend of yours Málik?”
Plainly, she could not stop thinking of him, and that also vexed her.
The elder Druid shook his head. “Same blood, different king,” he said with half a smile. “Howbeit, the son would hold me to the promise I made to the father.”
Always with the riddles!
Evidently, Amergin had lived among the Fae too long, and Gwendolyn felt thoroughly vexed to be thwarted. She nipped at the tender flesh inside her cheek, wondering what topic would be best to broach with him now. Whatever information she would glean, she sensed it must be dragged per force from his unwilling tongue. The old Druid gave her a crooked smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement and something resembling…pity?
His white hair shone in the twilight as he leaned in, one bony hand bracing against his pommel. “I can see you are troubled,” he said, and Gwendolyn nodded. It would be pointless to lie. She longed for a confidante, but had too many questions and no inkling how to begin. “As you must know, this day was long foretold.”
“Which day?”
“Thisday,” he said, his head tilting first to one shoulder, then to the other, adding, “The end of days … or the beginning.”
Again, more riddles, and Gwendolyn found her tongue tied with too many questions. Who and what foretold this? The end of what? The beginning of what? What stake had this man in the outcome of Gwendolyn’s trials? So he had claimed, as did Emrys, that it was their intent to be her champion in her bid to convince Baugh to join her fight, but Gwendolyn suddenly had the most unsettling suspicion—as she always did with the Fae—that Amergin, too, held secrets meant to shape, not only Pretania, but the fate of men. And still questions stuck in herthroat—like that time she’d so desperately longed to recount to her father everything she had encountered in her uncle’sfogous. And somehow, despite trying, she could not—that feeling was worse now than before, and Gwendolyn didn’t have the energy to pry any more words from this Druid’s mouth. She said, “For what it’s worth, I am pleased you’ve emerged from the grave to become my champion.”
She gave him a halfhearted wink, and added dryly, “It is not oft we are graced with Druid royalty.”
The elder Druid chuckled, but his dark eyes ignited with a new fire. “Ah, Child, you must not mistake me. I’ve not come to be anyone’s champion. I am but a humble servant.”
“So you serve the Fae?”
“Nay, Queen of Men. I serve justice.”
Gwendolyn eyed him suspiciously. “For whom?”
The glitter in his eyes now sharpened. “If you must ask, mayhap I sit in judgment of you?” He wasn’t jesting, Gwendolyn realized, and a shiver of foreboding swept down her spine. Her inability to ask the right questions only roused her temper, for neither had anyone called her “child” since Demelza, and she took issue with that as well—she was no child, and certainly not his!
Her tone hardened. “That is quite the responsibility,” she allowed. “And yet, if you’ve come to serve yourjusticeupon me,old man, you’d best declare yourself rightly, and know I bow to no man, including you!”
Unsaid, she’d left too much, including all the questions about her past life, though Amergin must know it all, and despite this, Gwendolyn could not speak again even for the possibility of loosening an old man’s tongue. Only this time, it wasn’t any hex that bound her words. It was pride. She had not come so far to be judged by this man or any. Nor had she tainted her hands withblood only to throw down her hard-won sword and bow to the Fates.
The Druid’s lips lifted into a slow grin, showing a magnificent set of straight, white teeth that belied his wrinkled face. “So I see… your sister spoke true.”
Gwendolyn blinked.
“You’ll make a fine queen someday,” he allowed, and then he tugged his reins and fell away, leaving Gwendolyn alone to think on his words…
But… she was queennow—what did he mean by that? And more, though he’d argued his right to speak on her behalf, she must now wonder if he intended to undermine her instead?
It was only belatedly that Gwendolyn realized what more he had said—sister?She had no sister!
Or did she?
Gwendolyn had grown up as an only child, her parents proclaiming her the Kingdom’s sole heir. But the Druid’s words haunted her with unspoken truths, for even as she mulled over the mortal life she had lived, his words stirred in her a cruel sense of uncertainty, and the truth clawed at the edges of her memories, like shadows seeking the light.
24
That evening, Gwendolyn could not sleep.
TheoldDruid misspoke, she reassured herself.
