Page 95 of Arise the Queen
Three years later, when Innogen came calling, and dared to ask after Málik, Gwendolyn was heartsick to confess she did not know his whereabouts.
But she did.
She knew.
And even as she sat upon her throne of wood in the mortal realm, she knew Málik sat upon his throne of gold.
However, when Innogen arrived, she came with a small child hanging on her hand, a boy child that bore an aspect of Málik’s countenance—tiny and silver-haired, with a mouth filled with very human teeth that bore the sharpest of canines. Gwendolyn nearly sent the woman away, but if she had, she would never have known…
Hisexistence changed everything.
Given the chance… what would you do with the child?
Age had perhaps softened Innogen’s heart, because when she led the child into Gwendolyn’s audience hall, she dropped to her knees, though not before gently urging the child to his. The tiny figure, outfitted in a simple tunic and leather breeches, hesitated only a moment before awkwardly bending his knee on the cold stone floor in deference to Gwendolyn. The faintest of smiles played upon Gwendolyn’s lips, but her heart clenched with anunbearable sense of longing. It was no doubt a child of Málik’s blood—his great-grandchild with Helen of Troy.
The resemblance was uncanny.
Gwendolyn had only once ever met the child, as a wee babe, when his mother sauntered into her prison chamber to flaunt her husband’s love child, but Gwendolyn in her fury had not looked closely enough at his features.
Now, putting aside her enmity for the sake of the child, she cleared her throat. “What brings you to my court?”
Innogen, her eyes brimming with tears she was too proud to shed, glanced briefly at the child before looking Gwendolyn straight in the eye. She did not yet rise to her feet, and neither did she encourage the child to do so.
“The boy,” she said.
“What about him?” Gwendolyn asked, forcing the question through a throat that had grown too thick with emotion. Without being told, she understood who and whathewas.
“You were not the only one visited at your cradle. This child was, too,” she explained. “I witnessed this myself, and I’ve… come to understand that his place is not with me…”
Gwendolyn’s heart pounded as she stared at the pate of the child’s head. He knelt so quietly beside his grandmother—a woman who had once reviled Gwendolyn and mistreated her so cruelly. But there was something different about her now… softer, mayhap wiser. Certainly kinder. And she was also the one who let Gwendolyn go, and she would not be here today if it were not for her.
That alone must count for something.
“I beg you to consider taking him as your own,” Innogen entreated.
“And deal withyouthe rest of my life?” she asked at once, though her question was not, in truth, meant to be malicious.Nor did she wish to part the child from the only family he had likely ever known.
And yet, could she bring a child into her house whose very mind would be poisoned against her?
It was as though Innogen had read her mind, because her eyes brimmed with tears as she said, “I am so sorry for the treatment we gave you in my home. I beg your forgiveness, My Queen, and I swear to you I have only whispered kind words into this child’s ears.”
Gwendolyn wavered, her heart softening against the thought of raising this child, despite fearing the worst. “How can I be sure?”
“If you do not believe me, ask of the child what you will. He is still young yet. You may still mold him in your image.”
“And you?”
“I will…” Tears spilled down her gaunt cheeks. “I plan to return to my people… because I am not long for this world.”
Gwendolyn’s eyes stung now too—not merely for Innogen’s sacrifice, but for so long now she had been struggling with her line of succession, and having determined that her heart was forever lost to one she could never have, she knew her womb would wither and die without babes.
But this child…
Given the chance… what would you do with the child?
Gwendolyn motioned for Innogen to rise. But instead of calling the child onto the dais, she herself rose from her throne and went to the pair, still kneeling at the steps. It was only then that Innogen rose, and in her eyes, Gwendolyn spied her two souls—the one who’d once tormented her and another whose heart spoke true, whose sorrow was genuine, whose loss was real. Her heart softened a little more, and she knelt beside the child, lifting his still bowed chin with a finger. “Halloo Habren,” she said with a smile.
“Halloo.”
