Page 92 of The Huntsman's Heart
At midday a wide-eyed maid comes to the door and knocks timidly. “Sir Alaric, should I bring food for the queen?”
I shake my head. “Which queen might that be? The one imprisoned is no longer a queen. She never should have been—” I ignore Melantha’s icy glare. “And the rightful queen has no need for food.”
She retreats and I’m left to wait out the remaining daylight hours, watching for any sign of change in Guin.
As the light fades, I don’t bother lighting candles, but in the pinkish light, it appears as if her lips move. Leaning closer, I watch intently.
Yes, they have definitely parted. She breathes in a sharp intake of breath. Then her eyes open and I almost miss the gargoyles stirring.
Raban gasps and dives in to press his face against her chest and holds her close.
Corvin drops to his knees beside the bed. “Princess.”
Guin lifts a shaky hand to place on his head.
Évandre gathers close and the four of them form a tableau of love and gratitude. My eyes sting with tears.
Then she reaches for me. “And you, Alaric. I see you there. Come here. You belong with us.”
I go to her, and she finds a place for me in her arms. I couldn’t be more happy there, nestled against her and Raban.
“We thought we had lost you. Again.”
She laughs at the reprimand in my tone and strokes my hair, and all my worry melts away.
“I am sorry to have worried you.”
We lay like that for a long time. Until my chest starts to feel less empty again.
Finally she releases us and sits, looking down at her ruined clothes. “What a mess I am. And we are not done.” She looks beyond us to where Melantha is still bound to the chair, forgotten, but still a blight on the scene. Her face has already lost much of the unearthly beauty of the spell. The skin at her jowls sags, and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth form firm lines. There are dark patches beneath her eyes.
Guin stands and crosses the room to look more closely. “The deception will not last forever and soon everyone will see your true face.”
Melantha speaks around the gag stuffed in her mouth. “Wha wi you do wi me?”
Guin laughs. “What will we do with you? What would you do to me if our situations were reversed?”
Melantha doesn’t answer.
“Kill her.” There’s a definite gleam in Corvin’s eyes when he says this. I grin at him.
Guin hesitates for just long enough to make Melantha’s eyes snap to hers. “I think she must have a fair trial first.”
“Jus do it.” Melantha says in disgust.
Guin only smiles. “The lords can decide. They will have to learn how to govern themselves after all.”
Raban tips his head to one side. “Why, princess? Will you not rule them?”
She shakes her head. “I cannot.”
She cuts me off when I try to question her. Rather than argue with her after her ordeal, I shelve the question for later and leave to check on the guards. There is a dungeon beneath the keep where Melantha could be kept until the trial. I fetch the steward and instruct him to have a basic meal and some water brought to Melantha, though I would rather leave her to starve.
Then I ride out to the wall. On my way I encounter the fallen bodies of the ghouls summoned by Guin’s distress. They lie unmoving in the fields, another task for weary townsfolk before Blackthorn is restored to rights. At the wall I find tired guards who I relieve for a shift. When the next watch arrives they are fresh, and I leave them with the task of clearing the bodies around the gate.
At the western tower there’s a breach to the wall where the tree giant broke through. Fortunately my hunters stopped him and his body lies a mere ten feet from the nearest dwelling.
There is so much to do. But I have faith that it can be done. In the meantime I return to the inner keep and send out extra guards to watch the broken wall until it can be repaired.
