Page 81 of The Queen's Huntsman
As for Málik…
He rode behind her, alone and brooding.
Ever since leaving the Catuvellauni camp, he’d not ventured far from Gwendolyn’s side, and though his actions, if not his words, comforted her, something had surely changed between them… something she couldn’t point a finger to.
His look when he’d spied the golden lock on her lap was like nothing she had ever witnessed from him—far from the fury and disgust she’d spied on Loc’s countenance. His was more… shock and dismay.
For her part, if she was surprised by the fulfillment of the Prophecy itself, she was certainly not surprised about the conclusion. She had known for some time where her heart lay—never with Locrinus, and neither with Bryn.
And that brought her to Esme…
Esme no doubt played a part in empowering Gwendolyn, and for that she would be ever grateful; despite that, there was something about the Faerie that made little sense.
Just as Málik kept secrets, so, too, did she.
And sometimes she looked at Gwendolyn in a way that gave Gwendolyn pause… certainly with pride, but also something darker… something troublesome.
At least for the moment, she was more jovial than Málik.
Between Esme and Lir, they were entertaining Caradoc. Clearly, he was enjoying the attention, and overall, Gwendolyn found she trusted the man. She didn’t believe he would have bartered for his son’s marriage if he intended to betray them. Nor was his request for Durotrigan lands any small matter. With those lands, he would inherit some of Cornwall’s richest mines. And if Ely’s exuberance over the union was any sign, she was clearly thrilled about the prospect of their marriage.
Indeed, she hadn’t stopped chattering about it for one moment since their reunion. “Gwendolyn!” she exclaimed now, waving a hand before Gwendolyn’s face, as though to call her attention. “You are too lost in thought!He’s been staring now for hours!”
“Kelan?”
“No,” Ely said, scrunching her nose, peering behind them, and Gwendolyn knew without looking who it was she was speaking of.
Málik.
Now that Ely was away from the stresses of the Loegrian court, she had returned to her usual self—a relief on the one hand, agonizing on the other because Gwendolyn needn’t be reminded of the discord between herself and Málik. She was acutely aware of it without Ely’s reminders.
It was growing dark again, but as yethehadn’t bothered with his Faerie flame in the company of so many—why?
Gwendolyn didn’t know, but it wasn’t as though these people didn’t know what he was simply by looking at him. Gwendolyn found she missed his odd little sphere, even as she missed his biting tongue… and his crooked smile.
He rode silently at her back, moody and distant.
But Gwendolyn would not beg him to engage her. He would when he was ready, and in the meantime, she had more important things to consider.
“I don’t understand what ails the two of you, but I am too delighted to be distressed. Really, Gwendolyn, I grieve the losses we have endured, but I find myself ever so grateful for the new bond I’ve gained.”
“Are you truly?” Gwendolyn asked.
Ely nodded.
“I take it you do love him?”
“Madly!” Ely confessed. “Yet not from the first. He was a brute!”
“What changed?”
“I cannot say for his part,” Elowyn said, shrugging. “But I was quite sad,” she confessed. “One day he made me laugh.”
Laughter was the greatest of balms, Gwendolyn thought. Unfortunately, she had laughed little herself since Chysauster.
Not since Málik.
Beside her, Ely cast a wary glance at the pair now riding at the fore of their cavalcade. “I do hope Bryn will not frighten him away,” she worried aloud.
