Page 7 of A Crown So Cursed
He was simply an old man—one she’d been parted from for too long.
“You must beware,” he said, worry clouding his tone. “The path you’ve set upon is not without perils. And, as I’ve said, Gwendolyn, I can only carry you to the threshold. Once you disembark, I will have no means to defend you, nor even to retrieve you… not without help.”
“I understand,” she said, resolved, and the old man sighed.
His voice was gruff with disguised emotion. “Remember your lessons! The Fae are overly capricious, withpolitiksmore twisted than a wych elm!”
She did not doubt his warning, but she laughed at the finger he wagged. “There is no danger I would not face… for him,” she reassured.
During her time Below, Gwendolyn had encountered more than a few foes. But none so chilling as the denizens of the Fae Court themselves, whose unsparing gazes she would not soon forget.
At no point had she felt welcome in that vipers’ nest, and she bore no illusions they would be pleased with her return. No doubt. Were they to have it their way, she would find herself in another gilded cage. And no matter—her gaze returned to the shimmering portal—she would brave anything for the promise of Málik’s arms.
Manannán’s voice, when he spoke, was heavy with regret. “There is also this to consider… after all the years we’ve spent apart, your decision also means you and I may never meet again.”
At this, a pang of sorrow pierced Gwendolyn, sharp and sudden.
During the short time they’d spent together, she cherished his wisdom and gentle guidance.
For all the brevity of their acquaintance, she treasured his wisdom, the gentle cadence of his guidance, and the comfort of his presence. The months spent waiting for the portal’s return had passed in long, meandering conversations—about the Fae rebellion, about his place among the gods, about his exile from the Underlands. He told her everything, it seemed, except anything about herself, and always with the same excuse: that he was forbidden to speak of her life before Trevena.
It surprised her, then, to learn that the one to whom he was sworn was Gwendolyn herself. She could not forgive the oath she’d forced upon him, unwittingly or not, as his daughter. Worse still, she had bound him never to seek her, and the duty he bore was not merely loyalty, but a transaction—one that bound him beyond even a god’s decree. Whatever it was he kept from her, he believed it would endanger her in the Underlands. And so, she was left with only questions, and the ache of knowing that, by her own hand, she might have lost him forever.
“Does Málik know about this thing you will not speak of?” she’d asked him.
Silence was his response, and again when she’d inquired about Esme. His silence had been heavy, almost pregnant with unspoken words.
“There are things beyond even my reach, Child,” he’d said at last, his voice subdued, edged with regret. Manannán was nothing like her mortal father, but Gwendolyn cared for him just the same, and the thought of never seeing him again genuinely aggrieved her.
She met his gaze now, her blue eyes awash with tears, and reached out to clasp his hands in her own. “Words can never express my gratitude for everything you have done…for all you will do. But Ineedto go.” In fact, standing on the precipice of her old life and the possibilities of a new one, Gwendolyn felt a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. No doubt, it would be a dangerous quest, navigating the intrigues of the Fae Court—a den of creatures impetuous enough to destroy her on a whim, but she was resolute. “Promise me you’ll take care,” she implored, her voice thick with emotion.
Manannán nodded, his voice failing him. He released her hand, reaching up to brush at her cloak. “Then you must take care,” he said finally, tears hazing his eyes.
Her greatest test, he then assured, would lie within the Unseelie Court, whose members stood for traditions that were against Gwendolyn’s very existence. They would not turn a blind eye to a human and Fae union, and no matter what Gwendolyn was in her past life, she was still a mortal.
“Dark and manipulative, with loyalties woven from grievances more than love and honor, the Shadow Court will oppose you from the moment you arrive,” he said. “They will watch you with daggers drawn, prepared to strike at any sign of weakness.”
“Then I will not be weak,” she swore.
They would not find her a simpering miss—not when, as a youth, and a woman, Gwendolyn had defeated all of Pretania’s rebels, along with the Usurper she’d married, to shape a nation. And any danger she would face Below would be inconsequential in the face of her greatest desire of all—to see Málik again, to hold him, to tell him she loved him still.
Three times he had begged her to go away with him, and three times she had denied him. His face after refusing him the last time would haunt Gwendolyn till the day she died—mayhap sooner than later if she placed herself at odds with the Shadow Court.
And still Manannán persisted, a note of melancholy in his voice. “The daughter of a god may have any man in all four kingdoms. Art certain, Gwendolyn?”
Her answer was swift. “More than ever.”
A long moment of silence unfurled between them.
Manannán mac Lir attempted to speak, but words again failed him, and a sting of tears needled at Gwendolyn’s eyes—no less sharp for the knowledge that she, too, would soon abandon everything and everyone she had ever known. All her friends, all her allies… even her son, and Cornwall, too. The thought of it hollowed her, but she held her tongue.
Her father regarded her with a sober, searching gaze—his ancient eyes reflecting the gray tumult of the sea itself. He said nothing, but Gwendolyn understood well enough what she was asking of him: to relinquish any hope of mending the bond with his estranged daughter. It was no small thing. She managed a wistful smile, her lips trembling.
“May I convey your greetings to the Púca?”
His old eyes crinkled at the corners. “Please do. Tell that curious little beast hello when you see him—and you will, sooner than me!”
It was a complaint, to be sure, though he did not voice it as such. Instead, he flashed a bright, wolfish smile. “Come along then!”
