Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

B RANWEN SLEPT THROUGH half the night.

The poppy had kept the worst of the pain at bay. When she awoke, it was to a steady throb in her right side. Irritating, but bearable.

Pryderi was asleep. He snored softly, his cloak drawn up to his chin. Gwydion was on Branwen’s other side, sitting with his back to the tree trunk and Palug on his lap. The cat was kneading his thigh, and while Gwydion winced, he allowed the gentle mauling.

“You’re awake?” she said softly.

He looked at her. “You should be resting.”

She tentatively sat up. Gwydion made as though to help, but she waved him off. She pushed herself slowly so that her back was to the trunk. She dragged her cloak up and over their legs. His own cloak was being used as a bed for Palug.

“One of us should keep watch,” he said quietly. “You and Pryderi were half-asleep by the time I returned.”

“Well, you should get some rest, too.” She patted his arm. “You saved my life back there.”

Gwydion looked away. “I hired you. It would have made me a rather bad employer to let you get killed before collecting payment.” It was a light answer, and a few days earlier, she likely would have accepted the lie.

Her mouth twisted up at one corner. “Do you ever let your guard down?”

He looked at her sharply. If he had been any less exhausted, he probably would have conjured up a witty reply. “You know why I don’t.”

“Because your family is terrible,” she said.

“Because my family is terrible,” he agreed. “And I’ve grown used to my armor of words and secrets. It is easier to pretend that I love that armor, that I need nothing else.”

“You don’t need it,” said Branwen. “I like you better when you’re… you.”

And she did like him. She liked his watchful eyes, his laughter, even the conniving edge to his conversations. She understood him now. He was like Pryderi—good-hearted, even if he went about it in an underhanded way.

“I’m always me,” said Gwydion.

“You’re more yourself right now,” she said. Which should not have made sense, but it did. A slight smile flickered across his mouth.

He was so close and yet unreachable.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Perhaps it would have been uncomfortable with another, but Gwydion’s silences were undemanding. It gave her time to gather her thoughts.

Branwen regarded him curiously. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you worried about what the woman said?”

He exhaled sharply, his hand still on Palug’s back. The cat looked at him in mild irritation.

“You mean the prophecy that I will break Gwynedd’s throne?” he said quietly. “Of course it worries me.”

Branwen scooted a little closer to him. “She did not say it was Gwynedd’s.”

“What other throne would I break?” He gave her a bitter smile. “We have the rings of two kings. We could win the Hunt—I am certain of that now. But… what if somehow that is what brings about Gwynedd’s destruction?”

“I don’t see how it could,” said Branwen. “We take the rings to King Pwyll so Pryderi can impress his father. Our team wins the Hunt. Arawn gives us a boon—and you can wish for anything. You could ask for diplomacy, for alliances, for promises to support your sister as queen.”

A shadow crossed Gwydion’s face. “So we deliver the fealty of kings and knights and hunters to Pwyll,” he murmured. “Strengthening Dyfed. One of our kingdom’s enemies. Perhaps that is what will do it.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Stop that. Your mind is racing like a hound after a rabbit, and it’s getting you nowhere.”

He quieted but the unease never left his face. The moonlight seemed to sharpen his features. “If I asked you to leave with me, right now,” he said. “Would you?”

She frowned. “What?”

He spoke the words quickly. “If I asked you to leave the Hunt, would you?”

Her brows drew tight. “What about my brooch?”

“We would look for it,” he said. “But even if we could not find it, you could come to Caer Dathyl. They would have to fight through armies to take you from me.”

Confusion welled up within her. “What brought this on?”

He ran his left hand through his hair. “Just thinking through contingencies.”

She reached out and laid a hand on his knee. “If you’re worried because one of us got hurt,” she said, “don’t. I am pretty sure Pryderi is the most dangerous person in this Hunt. Well, except for Arawn. And now, we have the Otherking’s ring.” She looked at where Pryderi slept. The small pouch full of rings was tied to his belt. “Do you think I could just order the Otherking to find my ring for me?”

Gwydion frowned as though that had not occurred to him. By now both Arawn and Pwyll would know that someone had found their rings. They were out of the Hunt.

“You never answered my question,” he said. “If I asked you to leave, right now, would you?”

Her lips pressed together. “I can’t. You know I can’t. I need the boon.”

“If I paid for your mother’s care,” he said, his voice soft. “If I promised to take care of you both.”

She shook her head. “If I am to keep my mam as she is, I need magic. Nothing else will cure her.”

He bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For bringing you into this. For allowing you to be hurt.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” she said. “You brought me to the Hunt. You gave me this chance. If anything, I should be thanking you.” She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable place against the tree. She was not sure if it was the poppy that gave her the courage to say, “Are you afraid of me now?”

He raised his brows. “Afraid of you?”

“Because of what the crone said to me,” she answered.

“That you’re going to hunt someone?” he replied. “No, that does not worry me in the least.”

Her forehead scrunched. “I feel as though I should be offended by that.”

He laughed lightly. “Not at all,” he said. “Rather, she said you would hunt that which you love. Which means the creature in the most danger here is Palug.”

At the sound of his name, Palug gently flexed his claws into Gwydion’s trousers. He winced and tried to extract those claws without disturbing the cat.

“I’m not going to hunt my cat,” said Branwen.

“I assumed as much.” Gwydion’s smile faded a little. “No. I’m not worried about it.”

That made her frown.

He saw it, and he laughed again. “I meant, I am no great wondrous hero of old. I am a liar. I’m not a prince, and I never will be one. At best, I’m a trickster. At worst, I’m a court gardener. If you were going to love someone, it would never be me.”

She gave him a flat look. “You’re also a little self-pitying.”

“That, too,” he agreed.

“You’re wrong, though.” She leaned her shoulder against his. “You’re all of those things, true. But you’re also a skilled healer. You’re intelligent and determined. You seek power not for your own gain but to protect others. And you’re good with cats.”

“I do like cats,” he admitted. And then, far more quietly, “And you, too.”

As Branwen’s fingers wove through his, she knew the truth of it.

She did not love him. Not yet. But she could.

She could love him for his wit, for his dry humor, for the way he spoiled Palug, and how he never gave up on those who mattered to him.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she said. “But for now…”

“For now…?” His gaze flicked down to her mouth and then back to her eyes.

And before she lost her nerve, she kissed him.

The kiss burned through her like a hot wine. His mouth yielded to hers, an answer to a question she did not speak aloud. His left hand came up, thumb sliding along the old scar at her cheekbone. She indulged herself and ran her hand through his unruly dark hair. It was soft, curling gently around her fingers. He shivered beneath her touch.

This was unwise, she knew. They lived in wholly different worlds. But for tonight, they were simply together. There were no political machinations, no monsters to be fought, no rings to be found. There was simply the warmth of him, the unsteady rhythm of her breath, and the knowledge that in this moment, she was enough. She was wanted—and so was he.

He pulled back first. She kissed the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the corner of his eye. She might have kept going, but she knew they were both exhausted. And this was enough. Truly, it was more than enough. “Branwen,” he whispered. “I—”

“Not now,” she said. This moment was perfect. She did not want to mar it with talk. “Tonight, we rest,” she said. “Tomorrow, we win the Wild Hunt.”