Page 44 of A Crown So Cursed
“Because he once dared to woo that fool daughter of his, and for that, Elric lopped off the points of his ears.” Gwendolyn winced, reaching out to touch her own phantom points.
“What did you give him?”
“A vial of mad honey made by giant bees in the Himalaya. It produces visions, a bit like pookies.”
“Hmm,” was all Gwendolyn said. Thereafter, they descended by stairwell deep into the caves below the city, and the further they descended, the colder it grew. Gwendolyn’s breath coalesced before her, and her eyes strained against the dimming light. On Esme’s insistence, she had opted for a coat, but now wished she were draped in heavy fur, and only belatedly remembered how badly she’d longed for her father’s cloak the last time she was here.
This was yet another disappointing bit of proof of how very mortal she was. For her part, Esme seemed perfectly content in her vellum-thin garb. She moved along; her steps sure and silent, a stark contrast to Gwendolyn’s cautious tread.
It would hardly suit her—or anyone—if she broke her mortal bones. “The cold does not bother you?” she asked, her voice bouncing off the cavern walls.
Esme glanced over her shoulder with a smile sharp as the stalactites. “Nope,” she said. “I spent more time in these warrens than a mole rat in its burrow.”
Gwendolyn pulled her coat tighter about herself; the fabric was scarcely sufficient against the biting cold. The constant drip of water echoed persistently as they moved deeper into the labyrinthine passageways, her boots slipping occasionally on the slick stones. She kept one hand trailing along the rough wall for balance, her thoughts drifting to Arachne—the spider-woman who had both aided and perplexed her in equal measure.
Perhaps sensing her disquiet, Esme slowed the pace to allow Gwendolyn to catch up. And thereafter, they traveled together, speaking at length of Trevena and Bryn…
“He was heartbroken when you left,” Gwendolyn provided.
“Not for long, I vow.” Esme’s tone was mordant, mayhap revealing more hurt than she was comfortable allowing. “He always had such a fascination with Taryn—or, rather, she with him.”
A moment of contemplative silence passed between them.
“Or perhaps it was his life as a Shadow. Though Bryn always welcomed her attention.”
“So you left out of jealousy?”
“Gods, no!” Esme cackled, the sound echoing eerily through the chilly cavern. “I left because it was not my place to stay, Gwendolyn. I was not born for that realm. My home is here—and I do meanhere. So much as my kindred yearn for a return to the homelands, I remember why we left.”
She pursed her lips, the half-light flickering across her aquiline features. “In truth, I could not bear the thought of loving a mortal, only to lose him in a few short years.”
Truth.Gwendolyn sensedthatwas her true reason—and for the first time, she dared to consider if that was also the reason Málik did not stay to be with her. Here, she would defy age, even as a mortal, as did Emrys and Amergin, but there in the mortal lands, he would have stood by, watching Gwendolyn die—for wasn’t that the journey for every human? From the moment they were born, they were destined to die.
For so long, Gwendolyn had believed Esme selfish and cruel to leave Bryn with no explanations, but now she considered her sister was a kinder soul than she herself could ever be.
“Was there anything you did not reveal about Málik’s father I should know?”
“No,” said Esme. “This is not his story, Gwendolyn. It is yours and Málik’s. It is ours. Whatever the Dark One’s reason for leaving, it has little to do with us, and it is not our way to pry.”
Gwendolyn knew that was true. Demelza, her mother’s maid, was right about this: The Fae were not forthcoming—not even when relations were close.
“You still haven’t revealed your plan.”
“It’s very simple,” said Esme. “We’re going to see Arachne.”
“Arachne?!”
“Indeed.”
“Why?”
She turned to smile at Gwendolyn now. “To ask her for anewcloak.”
“A new cloak? Why would I need another?” Gwendolyn’s brow furrowed as she maneuvered through a narrow passageway. “Art certain you know where we are going?” She didn’t remember any of these passages. But Esme’s pace didn’t falter, her gaze fixed ahead.
“The cloak she wove for you beforeconcealedyour true nature, yes? Well, this time, we intend to ask her to weave one thatrevealsyou instead.”
“And yes,” she concluded. “I know where we are.”
