Page 60 of The Cornish Princess
Gwendolyn shivered, rubbing her arms for warmth. Doubtless the water was frigid, and until the sun re-appeared in full, the air was still cool.
By midday, perhaps, it would be warm enough to swim, and yet who could swim in such a meager stream? The river was so tiny, it was impossible to say whence it had come.
The land wasn’t particularly flat here, but neither were there mountains in the immediate vicinity. She supposed it was possible for it to have bubbled up from some long-vanished spring. “Is it hot?” she asked.
“Warm,” he said, and Gwendolyn sighed over the terse response.
Gods.She didn’t wish to fight any longer. If she must be forced to coexist with Málik Danann, she must really learn to manage him. But they couldn’t make peace until she knew what quarrel he had with her. “Why did you tell my mother where we were?”
“We?” His shoulders tensed, but he lifted another handful of water to his face, and this time didn’t bother to wipe it away, leaving the droplets to glisten like diamonds on his flesh.
“You know… the pool.”
“Why else? Because it suited my purpose,” he confessed, and Gwendolyn lifted a brow.
“What purpose might that be?”
In answer, he cast Gwendolyn a backward glance and his lips split into a not very pleasant smile. Indeed, with the morning light glittering throughout his silver mane, and shining over his iridescent skin, he was like… a feral creature, particularly with that gleam in his eyes—savage and dangerous, and sinfully handsome.
Gwendolyn shivered again, but this time because a tiny niggling thought reentered her head—hideous, but compelling, just the same.
There were no longer wolves in these parts.
Quite easily, she could imagine Málik shredding a man with that mouthful of teeth. All that was missing from his person were a pair of claws, and yet… did she not hear tellfaekindcould shift forms?Could he have been the one who killed Bryok?
“I only wonder… did you perchance know the First Alderman?”
“The dead one?” Put so succinctly, and without a trace of remorse.
“Indeed,” said Gwendolyn, frowning, peering back toward the wych elm, where the guards stood waiting. “The dead one.”
“Nay,” he said.
“So, then, you never met him, even once?”
Málik stood, meeting her gaze directly. “Nay. I cannot say I ever did.”
“I hear tell his wife left him, but I guess you wouldn’t know such a thing since you’ve never met him. She’s in Chysauster,” Gwendolyn revealed.
One brow arched, and his eyes seemed to shine a little brighter with the revelation. “Truly?” he asked.
“Indeed,” said Gwendolyn, hitching her chin. “In fact, I intend to speak with her.”
“In Chysauster?”
Gwendolyn nodded, and Málik continued to stare at her a long while, before widening his smile. “You must realize, Gwendolyn… I know what you are doing.”
Gwendolyn blinked at his familiarity.
“You do?”
“Indeed, I do.”
Gwendolyn swallowed, wishing he would enlighten her, because really, she didn’t know—and most especially she didn’t understand why she seemed so inclined to bedevil a man who seemed, by most measures, so dangerous a creature. Did she mean to corner him?
So what now? If he was Bryok’s murderer—for whatever reason—she was now at his mercy, and far, far from home.
He pushed back a lock of hair that fell into his face. “Only keep this in mind as you play at your game, Princess… curiosity is like adrogue. Even in small doses it can be deadly.”
