Page 80 of Arise the Queen
What then if the Brigantes had also joined him, and her army faced an army fifteen-thousand strong?
“I did not see you break your fast,” said Bryn as he approached.
“I… wasn’t hungry,” Gwendolyn confessed, and she reached down to scoop up a handful of cool water to splash upon her face. It was icy against her cheeks, but she welcomed it, hoping it would clear the fog in her head.
And the storm brewing in her heart…
“Art troubled?” Bryn examined her with knowing eyes and Gwendolyn studied him a long moment before deciding she might as well confess… in part.
“I had hoped to conscript another thousand warriors,” she said, and he gave her a look that said he wasn’t the least concerned. Yet Gwendolyn was.
“With Iceni and Cantium, there should be another fifteen hundred. That would bring us closer to ten.”
Unlike Bryn, Gwendolyn wasn’t so certain the Iceni would pledge their own, much less urge Cantium to join Gwendolyn’s cause. “Those tribes were fiercely opposed to my father’s rule,” she pointed out, and, indeed, it was for that reason she had left them for the end of this campaign, because she had hoped to face them with an army far greater than Loc’s. As yet, she could not, in good conscience, claim such a feat.
She sat, then turned to face Bryn, commanding him to sit down beside her, patting the ground. He obeyed at once, and for a long while, the two of them sat silently, merely enjoying the quietude of the forest.
The days were a little warmer now.
The trillium ready to blossom.
The trees were filling with new leaves, and the sky was half concealed by the canopy of green. Spring had come, but the gruesome scene that had been playing before her eyes since last night was not this beautiful forest, but the rivers of blood that would flow before justice could be served.
It weighed heavily upon her.
“Gwen…” he began, his voice hesitant, perhaps because he’d dared to address her so familiarly. “I trust you’ll find the way.”
She heard his hope, and the last thing Gwendolyn wished to do was infect him with her doubt, so she offered a smile. “I am sure you speak true,” she said.
And then, with a note of good humor, she added, “I’veClaímh Solais, haven’t I? How could we lose?” In jesting, she dared to find some solace in the sword's promise—after all, wasn’t it said that he who wielded the Sword of Light could not lose? She would soon enough test that, but unfortunately, this would holdnopromises for the rest of her army, nor any of the people she loved—Bryn, for one.
She sighed again, plucking up a blade of grass, pulling it between her fingers, realizing that this could well be the last chance she and Bryn would ever have to sit alone and reminisce, and the reality of this truth was a bitter draught.
She smiled, this time fondly. “Do you remember that day we found the Giant’s House near Fowey?”
Bryn’s eyes twinkled with mirth. He laughed, and the sound was rich and deep—the voice of a man. “You mean that fortress we ‘stole from Gogmagog’?”
Gwendolyn giggled. “How we used to play at make-believe,” she said, then added. “I believe it was Demelza who told us that the house was built by a tribe of giants hurling stones in a game of Quoits.”
“Quoits,” Bryn said, chuckling low. He drew up his knees, put his arms around them, and nodded disbelievingly over the memory.
“How ludicrous this now seems,” Gwendolyn agreed.
His eyes crinkled. “You were an attentive audience,” he said. “No matter how outlandish her tales, you took them as truth.”
Indeed, some of what Demelza had told her had turned out to be more true than Bryn could know, but some of it was certainly tall-tales. She inclined her head. “Yes… well… I suppose I did.” A wistful smile played upon her lips. “I am so pleased we found her alive and well—your mother, too.”
Bryn shook his head. “Me too. Ely will be amazed. I encouraged my mother to deliver a message to tell her sooner than later.”
“Will your mother remain in Skerrabra, or will she return to Trevena, did she say?”
He nodded. “I believe she would like to return… for Ely.” He tossed a hand out to indicate their surroundings, and said, “For obvious reasons, I’d not see her travel yet, but when the war is over, I will fetch her myself.”
“Of course,” Gwendolyn said, and Bryn nodded, then lifted a dark brow.
“I was… surprised to hear she never loved my father and that she grieves not at all.”
“And you?” Gwendolyn dared. “Do you?”
