Page 57 of Arise the Queen
Once more, Gwendolyn lifted a hand. “You needn’t say aught but yes and thank you.” She peered at him, smiling. “And, really, the only thing youmustdo from here forth is keep your oath to me, remain loyal, serve Cornwall.”
She gazed at him warmly. “And… if it happens, I lose my wits… then for the sake of Cornwall, you will have my permission to take my head.”
He twisted his lips. “What would I do with that?”
Gwendolyn shrugged, giving him a flourish of her hand. “Whatever you wish. Put it on a pike,” she said, and then, recalling Loc’s gruesome handling of her poor father’s head, she rescinded the remark. “Perhaps not that.”
“Dastard,” he whispered, frowning, and they shared a look, remembering the day of their arrival in Loegria—finding her father’s head with crows pecking at his eyes.
“Well, my father made his bed,” she said more soberly. “He should never have relinquished so much power to Brutus. But I know he did what he thought best—as must we. Cornwall is your priority, as it is mine, Bryn. I know you will do what is necessary for the good of it.” For a moment, he rode silently beside her, saying nothing, only listening, looking bemused. Gwendolyn was quite certain that he had never imagined himself as mester at arms. That was never the path from Shadow. Indeed, once a Shadow, always a Shadow, but she did not speak lightly—he deserved this position far more than did his traitorous father.
Lest he deny her, she endeavored to convince him. “More than anything, you deserve this, Bryn. You’ve been a loyal, dedicated servant. You, too, have lost so much, and I would see you have something in return.” He was more than capable of fulfilling this role. All jesting aside, bribery as well. This was the appointment she should have given him long, long ago—on the day she slew his father.
He finally replied, his tone solemn and respectful. “I promise you faithfully, I will do what is necessary for Cornwall, and for you. You are my queen and liege. I’ll not fail you.”
His tone was rife with emotion, and Gwendolyn nodded. She expected his loyalty and dedication, knew he would rise to the occasion, but for the last time, she would not tolerate duplicity. “However… my grace does not come without consequence. Iwillhave your sworn oath you’llnotlie to me again—for any reason.”
He nodded somberly.
“I will hear you swear it,” she commanded.
“I swear it. I give you my word, Gwendolyn.”
She longed to make him also swear he’d never leave her, but that she would not do to him. Once the battle with Locrinus was over, if he wished to go with Esme, Gwendolyn would not expect him to betray his own heart.
As it must be with Málik, she would release him.
“There is much I’ve yet to tell you,” she said. “But I don’t know where to begin…”
His boyish grin returned, his blue eyes twinkling as he gave her that all-too familiar tilt of his head. “What would Demelza say?”
She laughed then. “Begin at the beginning,” she said, her lips twisting ruefully, and together they laughed, making Gwendolyn long to embrace him, and if they were not on horseback, she might have. “Very well then…” She took a deep breath, steeling herself to recount the events that transpired since they last spoke heart to heart. Nervously stroking Aisling’s mane, she stole another glance at her childhood friend. His shining, black hair fell into his eyes, and he pushed it away with the back of his hand. So like that young boy she’d always admired. “Alas, though, I never once imagined myself caught in such a tangled web,” she allowed, her voice barely above a whisper.
He turned to her, his gaze searching. “We all bear burdens, Gwendolyn. It is how we carry them that defines us.”
“Another bit of wisdom from Demelza?”
He shrugged. “Did she never stop talking?”
Gwendolyn laughed again, missing her mother’s meddlesome maid.
“Very well, then… so I begin at the beginning…”
First, she told Bryn the news of her marriage’s dissolution.
“That’s incredible!” he said.
Gwendolyn’s smile unfurled. “I am free,” she said. “His suit has been dismissed, so he can give away that gaol cell he was keeping for me—to his mistress, one can hope.”
He lifted both his brows. “I am told she abandoned her son to Innogen?”
That child again…
Esme’s question still hounded her. Though, in truth, Gwendolyn still didn’t know what Habren’s fate should be. Shesighed. “I heard that as well. She is no mother to the boy. Innogen will raise him, and he’ll never know Estrildis’ name.”
“One can pray it will be so… and yet, I warrant, Innogen’s influence will not be benevolent. She raised Locrinus, after all, and what did he do? He murdered his father and mayhap his brother…”
It was Innogen who’d Murdered Urien, not Locrinus. Estrildis had confessed as much, but Gwendolyn still didn’t have any proof. “No doubt, she’ll poison him,” Gwendolyn said. “Poor boy.” But his brand of poison will not be the same as she’d dealt Brutus’ eldest son—the man Gwendolyn should have wed, though she was glad she had not.
