Page 77 of Arise the Queen
“What?” she asked as she then hugged Gwendolyn, whispering into her ear. “Did you believe I’d abandon you in your hour of need?”
“Yes,” Gwendolyn hissed, because she had feared this.
However, considering the fact that she had by now reunited with her mother and could no longer blame Esme for that, when it was likely she’d expected they would encounter one another without her help. But that too vexed Gwendolyn, because Esme clearly had no qualms over making a bargain that would eventually be fulfilled without her intervention. Tricksy was what she was.
Also, no thanks to Esme, Gwendolyn won her grandsire to her cause, completely without Esme’s guidance or intervention. Thus, there was no true reason to hold a grudge… and still Gwendolyn wasn’t quite ready to forgive.
“Welcome back,” she said, flicking a glance at Málik, then crossing her arms. “What took you so long?”
Esme had the ill grace to laugh it off. “Oh, you know how it is. You mean to do one thing and something distracts you and before you know it, time has flown.” She, too, cast Málik a glance, but whatever insouciance she pretended at was absent from that dark look.
Málik shrugged.
Meanwhile, Caradoc swung a thick leg over his pommel and slid to the ground. “No welcome for me?” he asked, also casting a glance at Málik, then teased, “And here I thought My Queen would miss me so desperately she would welcome me with open arms and a smack upon the lips.”
“I would love to smack you,” said Gwendolyn lightly, embracing him, pleased enough to see him, though she was hardly in the mood to banter. “However, I’m afraid you’ll have to beg your kisses from Esme,” she said.
“Oh, I tried!” said Caradoc without shame. “That rabid little Elf threatened to bite off my cock, and I am quite fond of it.”
Despite herself, Gwendolyn laughed. “Yes, I am certain,” she said, and then she turned her attention to Taryn and Kelan, asking after Ely and the babe.
“Any day now,” Kelan revealed.
Gwendolyn felt at once contrite for taking him away from Ely when she doubtless had the most need of him, but it was not to be helped. They would need every man and woman they could muster to win this battle.
She hugged Kelan, then turned to Taryn, leaning close. “Did you bring it?”
Taryn nodded, pulling the pack from her shoulders and showing Gwendolyn its contents.Yew poison.Plenty to inoculate full half of their arrows.
Before leaving Trevena, she had tasked Taryn with learning the art of this poisoning from their fletchers, and to gathering what she could from the ancient Yew tree. “We also brought more than a thousand shafts, but they must be made.”
“See it done,” Gwendolyn said, but she didn’t take the satchel.
She’d never told Locrinus about this practice of theirs, and she was glad now that she had not. Their archers would ensure they had fewer men to contend with over the course of the battle.
She sent Taryn to work with the archers, to show them how to prepare the arrows. And then, giving Esme a pointed glance, she took Caradoc aside to consult with him alone, listening to his news. Then, later, she slipped away to her tent to consider all she’d learned…
Lir had spoken true. The city was returning to its former self. Trade had all but resumed, and it was Ely’s idea to hire mercenaries to defend the city so Caradoc and his troops could join Gwendolyn’s army. But few that there were—less thantwenty—it was not worth involving them in the fight against Locrinus, nor did Gwendolyn have the gold to pay a foreign army when nearly every piece of gold, every gem they owned was now in Loc’s possession. The men and women who would fight for Gwendolyn would not fight for pay; they fought for freedom. But it was wise of Ely to trade twenty paid soldiers for twenty soldiers who believed in this cause. To keep them honest, the pay would not be given until Gwendolyn returned victorious, and in the meantime, the city would be in no danger for the same reason Loc and his brothers had abandoned it.
As for the timing of their arrival in Petvaria, they did not learn all that Gwendolyn had achieved until Esme arrived to inform them, though how Esme should know was anybody’s guess—probably the same way the Druids learned about Aengus’ death. As the Púca once explained, time was not the same in the mortal world. For Gwendolyn’s part, she could only account for little more than a sennight after Málik pushed her through that portal, but if she had, in fact, been gone from the village for more than two moons, as Bryn had claimed, that was more than enough time for the Llanrhos Order to have received the news, then make their way to Trevena from Mona, and still arrive in time to celebrate with the Druids in Lifer Pol.
Whatever the case, Locrinus was not privy to this same conduit of information so he should sit there sucking eels with his mistress, none the wiser, since, according to Esme, he still did not know Gwendolyn had a growing army at her command.
“How do you know this?” Gwendolyn had asked.
Esme lifted her fingers to examine her claws. “I have my ways,” she’d replied with a smile, and that was as much as she would reveal—aside from the fact that he did, in fact, know that Gwendolyn had retaken Trevena. But in his arrogance, he believed her trembling behind those gates, afeared to leave. Little did he realize. Gwendolyn was not the child-bride he’dwed, nor was she any longer so innocent, and gods save anyone who stood before Gwendolyn and retribution…
“Have you a moment?” came a soft query at the door of her tent, and before Gwendolyn could gather her thoughts to respond, Esme had already entered.
She walked directly to Gwendolyn, drawing something from her shoulder pack, handing it to Gwendolyn… the crown she’d fashioned from Gwendolyn’s curls… and then wore on her own brow at her father’s court.
“Please,” Esme begged. “It is yours,” she insisted, but it was a long moment before Gwendolyn could take the crown from her without hurling it back at her.
Finally, she did, though not without some bitterness.
“It is not the crown you seek now, nor, in truth, will it win you Cornwall’s throne, but you may someday have need of it.” She smiled then, and Gwendolyn still said nothing. She set it aside, laying it down at her own feet, then returned her attention to the sharpening of Kingslayer, as Esme moved to the cot, then sat herself atop it without a by-your-leave. “Do you loathe me now?”
It was a thick-skulled question.
