Chapter 24

24

T hat evening, Gwendolyn could not sleep.

The old Druid misspoke, she reassured herself.

And no matter, she could not shake the nagging sense that there was more to his words than a mere slip of the tongue—how vexing it was that, yet again, it was some stranger who'd revealed her truth. Along with a keen sense of disappointment over another deception, the mere possibility of a sister she'd not known about tugged at her curiosity like a loose thread begging to be unraveled.

Oblivious to her turmoil, Bryn stirred in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent as he turned onto his side, facing Gwendolyn.

Beside her, the fire crackled and popped, flickering like a wild soul, its orange and red hues casting dancing shadows across this face.

But, alas, whilst her childhood friend slept only an arm's length away from her, she had never felt more alone—impossible to imagine how anyone could feel so isolated surrounded by more than two thousand soldiers, but here she was.

When she and Bryn were younger, they used to steal away for a swim, or simply to enjoy one another's company amidst the cool shelter of trees on a hot summer day, with th eir backs against an oak, eating bilberries and confessing secrets? But it was normally Gwendolyn doing the confessing, and Bryn, only listening.

Nothing had changed. He was still the same.

Tonight, he had returned from the rear of the cavalcade with no word of explanation, only saying he'd tired of Málik's sore headed mood.

At least they had that in common.

As yet, neither Bryn nor Málik even knew that the Druids had dissolved her marriage. This was the greatest of news, and yet, so it seemed, Gwendolyn had no one to share it with.

More unbearable yet was the vacant space at her side—not that Málik would ever disrespect her by choosing Gwendolyn's pallet under the scrutiny of so many, but she had at least hoped he would make his pallet close by.

Instead, where was he?

Sleeping peacefully more than three kilometers away…

So he'd claimed he wished to be the first to know if they encountered an ambush from behind. But whilst it had seemed a good strategy at the time, Gwendolyn now wondered if there was yet another reason he'd been so intent upon avoiding her.

Did he fear she would ask something he was unprepared to answer?

Her face twisted into a pained expression, her brows furrowing and her mouth pulling tight. How many times must she tell him that a lie of omission was still a lie? Would she discover on the morrow that she was in love with her own brother? Or that Aengus óg was her real father?

Grimacing over the thoughts, she was at least thankful that she remembered enough about Aengus to know she did not share his blood. But the point was this: At this moment, anything seemed possible, and, as she lay brooding in the shadows—all alone on her pallet, her mind raced with questions and doubts.

Now this…

Blinking away a new sting of tears, this time for anger, Gwendolyn gazed into the dancing flames, her thoughts drifting again to the afternoon's conversation with Amergin… Not too long ago, she had bemoaned the lack of family, and now… if that old man and Esme spoke true, her mother was out there somewhere, and a sister, too—for all Gwendolyn knew she might have ten!

The cool night air brushed her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, and she tugged Arachne's cloak higher about her shoulders, gazing beyond the fire's light.

Gods. She missed Málik so much it ached—those beautiful blue eyes, those fangs which, despite their daunting appearance, never failed to titillate her… because she knew what pleasure they could provide.

Did he no longer have feelings for her?

Ever since their reunion, he'd been so distant and reserved, and despite that his enigmatic nature had once so much appealed to her, it now filled her with so much uncertainty. This moment, she longed to crack her palm against his too-handsome face, and then to look him in the eyes and demand he speak only truth—all of it—before desperately kissing him.

Mind you, she craved both, but without honesty and truth, the rest was worth too little. At the first opportunity, she would give him a much-deserved tongue lashing—and not the sort he would wish for.

If indeed, he still desired such things.

Willing him to come to her, at least to explain, Gwendolyn tossed and turned, all the while commanding herself to remain abed. It was to everyone's good fortune that the sin of pride kept her rooted to her pallet.

Sleep came eventually, but with difficulty, and, to Gwendolyn's dismay, only after envisioning herself snuggled in Málik's embrace.