Heart of the Forest (Arwn's Gift Book 1) (32 page)

“I already know what the gates look like. I already know what the guard patrols look like. Dryslwyn Tanllyd is my home, Dy’ne. We weren’t going ahead to scout; we were going ahead to give the council time to consider.”

“Then why are you here and not on your way there?” I tucked my knife back into my boot, and he sighed heavily.

“I wanted to see you, Dy’ne. That should be a given.” He crossed his arms, and I rolled my eyes before turning around to continue my search for herbs.

“Well, you’ve seen me,” I half grunted as I checked the leaves of a nearby bush.

“There’s foxglove over there to your left, Dy’ne.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I stared at him for a moment before I stepped around the bush to see the large flowering bright pink plant. Retrieving my boot knife once again, I started trimming the plant into another scrap of linen. I was carefully cutting a few of the flowers when I found myself turned around roughly. Yorwrath pressed his lips to mine before I could think or react. He kissed me hard and deep as the knife fell from my fingertips and my body melted against his in the cold of the morning. He broke the kiss and added another sweet peck before he raised his gaze to mine.

“Stay alive,” I breathed into his mouth.

“I don’t plan on dying anytime soon, Dy’ne.” The words rumbled from his throat as he continued to linger close.

“Good.” I beamed up at him, and he stepped from me, disappearing back into the forest as quickly as he came.

* * * *

By midday, we were on the road to Dryslwyn Tanllyd. Apparently it was a day and a half away, according to some of the women in Yorwrath’s collection. I rode at the head of the procession with Aneurin, Islwyn, and Amita’Ahti. Her mate was in a covered litter carried by their war-husbands. Amita’Ahti wore a shirt now, a leather bodice covered in tiny metal plates that contoured her body. Across her shoulders was a heavy green and blue cloak tied to the thick golden torque around her throat, embossed with pixies in flight wielding swords. Atop her glistening golden hair in its elaborate plaits was a twisted golden circlet. She looked like a warrior queen with her sword at her hip and that elaborate shield on the side of her saddle.

“It’s been a time since I’ve bloodied my blade on an elf. You were still a babe at your mother’s breast,” she said, shooting a quick glance at Aneurin. “If I’m honest, I hope they deny you. It’s always good to start your reign with bloodshed. It shows your people that you are a true leader. Will we get to see a demonstration of your powers, Swynwr?”

“Some might also argue that in fighting early you’re also demonstrating your weaknesses,” I said with a small smirk. Caoilfionn snuffed at me and tossed his head.

“You are a human and a slave. We geld ours when they open their mouths unprovoked. What do you plan on doing to your little gnat, Aneurin?” she growled, though she never looked back at me. I started laughing.

“Go ride back with Yorwrath’s slaves, Valentina.” Aneurin glanced back at me, and I glared at him.

“Do you really want to do this now, Aneurin?”

“Go, Valentina.”

“No. I’m more than just some human slave who has been deemed addas. We spoke vows. They might not mean a thing to you now, but I know what they afford me.”

“She’s your wife?” Amita’Ahti seemed disgusted, and only then did she glance back at me.

“Oh, did he not mention that while he was fucking you and your mate last night?” I smiled wide, and Islwyn sighed.

“It’s a complicated matter. But no, we are not handfasted. She is a favorite slave, nothing more.” The words cut me to the core. I knew it wasn’t my Aneurin saying them, but it was still his voice, still his lips, and still those mismatched eyes that narrowed at me in displeasure.

“Fine,” I snapped, tugging a bit on the reins as I dropped back in the procession to where Yorwrath’s collection rode on their cart.

* * * *

The rest of the journey was a haze. It was as though I blinked and it was suddenly midnight. The other slaves around me hurried to their tasks of setting up their master’s tents, but I simply sat there on Caoilfionn’s back. After the bonfire was lit in the middle of camp, I slipped from the saddle and Caoilfionn instantly transformed in that characteristic flash.

“Are you staying?” he asked as his ever-changing irises met mine. All I saw in them was concern.

“I’m leaving when Grwn gets back,” I stated, adjusting my pack on my back.

“You mean we’re leaving.” He flashed me a smile, and I nodded. “You’re still bothered by earlier.”

“Should I lie and say no? Yes, I’m still bothered by it. I expected it, but still it fucking hurt.”

“And you still want to help the medics?”

“Yes, I figure I might as well do some good while I wait.”

“As my lady wishes.” He grinned a little, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not a lady. I’m not a queen. I’m a slave, apparently, or a whore.”

“Arwn’s Gift is neither of those things, so you cannot possibly be them. That isn’t Aneurin. It may look like him and sound like him, but it is holding your Aneurin prisoner for its own aims.”

“It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Leaving will make it hurt less. I believe he would want you to leave rather than risk the degradation that is within his right to heap upon you as a slave.”

“Let’s hope the siege is quick and not one for the histories.” I sighed, pulling my fingers back through my hair. When I finished, one of Yorwrath’s collection approached us. It was Pwyll’s daughter. She looked every bit the concubine with her face painted and her hair piled elaborately high with glistening curls that spilled down her back.

“The Swynwr wishes to see you,” she practically sang, beaming down at me.

“Fine,” I growled. “Lead the way.”

We walked through the tent village, which seemed to have popped up out of nowhere and in hardly any time at all. Aneurin’s new tent was bigger than it had been before, with heavier canvas that was embroidered with leaves in various shades of green. It looked like a king’s tent now. There was no doubt about it—this new Aneurin was stepping into his role as Swynwr. Inside, the tent was as sumptuous as any king’s chamber. Thick furs covered the floor and the large four-poster bed in the middle of the room. There was a small table set with silver candlesticks with two cushioned chairs at it. There was even a chest of drawers with a mirror. In the far corner was a brazier, and before it was a tub filled with steaming water, and in it, Aneurin.

“Getting ready to plow the pixie queen again?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“More like recovering.” He beamed at me, and I turned my gaze to the wooden beams of the tent and kept it there. I didn’t want to look at him.

“And you called me here to what? Torment me more?”

“No, I called you here to see if you’d like a bath. You represent me whether you like it or not, and I can’t have you running around reeking like an unwashed Dy’ne beggar. I also wanted to offer it as a peace offering.”

“Let me guess: you’ll be in the bath too. Right?” I twitched my head to the side and stared at the canvas ceiling.

“Yes. I can pretend to be him if you’d like, and maybe if you cooperate I’ll give you moments with him in private, if you demonstrate your loyalty to my liking.”

“Loyalty?” I almost choked on the word. “How about I pretend you didn’t just confess to holding him hostage?” My eyes narrowed into tiny judgmental slits. “I’m not joining you in the bath.”

“Fine, spurn my olive branch if that’s what you want to do.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Tonight you’ll share the bed with me regardless.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“And if I promised you a handful of moments with him? Here, a true olive branch.” After he spoke, a quick gasp escaped his lips and he turned to me. And there he was, my Aneurin, staring wide=eyed and a little confused. I could tell the difference immediately. My Aneurin observed the world, and looked at things like everything and everyone one around him had a purpose… The collection of kings inside his head did not. That bicolored gaze settled on me and he frowned before dipping his fingertips into the water and watching the ripples for a few moments.

“Aneurin.” I breathed his name, walked to the side of the tub, and knelt on the furs scattered on the floor. He touched my face, trailing his fingers down my cheek and across my jaw. I moved to lean my head against his shoulder, but he moved away from me.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“Because it’ll just make it harder for me to say this to you.”

“But—”

“No, Valentina. Listen to me.” He held my face, forcing me to meet his gaze as he spoke a desperate plea. “You have to leave before the battle ends. Once he takes Dryslwyn Tanllyd, there will be no stopping him from locking you up. Do you understand?”

It happened again. As we stared into each other’s eyes I watched as my Aneurin faded. It was more than just how he looked at things—no, his irises were darker by a shade or two. Watching the Swynwr pull control from Aneurin was like watching clouds roll in before a storm. There was something about the absolute stillness of his face that read like he was trying too hard to appear calm. Aneurin, my Aneurin, clearly shouldn’t have been privy to the Swynwr’s plans. He had ruined that creature’s ambitions by warning me.

Standing quickly, I jumped back a bit and the Swynwr stood. I couldn’t think of it as Aneurin anymore. Yes, it was his body, but now it was something that sought to cage me, and I wasn’t a fan of that idea—no matter how beautiful that body was. We stared at each other for a handful of moments. Reaching for that amethyst at my throat, I rubbed it with my thumb as I stared at him.

“We both know you have more important things to worry about. If you want to dip your wick in something I’m sure one of Yorwrath’s collection will happily oblige,” I said before quickly leaving the tent. The moment the flap closed, my heart started to race. As I made my way through camp, I continued rubbing that precious jewel with my thumb like it was a worry stone. I focused on Aneurin in my mind, the curve of his lips as he smiled, the crease in his brow when he was worried, the softness of his kiss, his kindness, his love for me, and the strength of his arms around me. Things I was certain I’d never feel, see, or be the recipient of again were all the thoughts that I pushed to the back of my mind as I walked away.

Caoilfionn found me. It was like he could sense my unease. He even had my pack and sword in his hand. I couldn’t help but wonder if he had known this was going to happen all along. I wanted to wait for Grwn, but I couldn’t now. I knew I had minutes until the Swynwr came looking for me. He wouldn’t let me leave. Pulling on my pack and sword, I walked back into the forest the way we had traveled. Everyone was busy preparing for the morning, so no one seemed to notice that I had slipped into the night.

“How did you know?” I whispered after we had been walking for about an hour.

“You showed me,” he answered, flashing me a smile.

“How is that even possible?”

“Your powers are stronger than you realize, especially since you took the garland willingly. You’re the first of Arwn’s Gift to do that.”

“Wait.” I paused and furrowed my brows for a moment before shaking my head and starting again. I could have lamented my choice in going to Baba Yaga uninformed of what that gift that they gave me was, but I didn’t.

“It’s nothing to worry about. You are simply the first one to acknowledge Arwn. The garland marks you as a princess of Annwn. Admittedly, this was foreseen. Baba Yaga probably knew the moment they laid eyes on you who you were and what choices lay before you. Accepting the garland willingly—even if you didn’t know what it meant when you accepted it—means you have the possibility to be something remarkable.”

“I don’t want to be remarkable. I had enough of that in Laeth when they ran me out of town the first time,” I grumbled as we continued through the forest.

We walked all night. We walked until dawn crested and shouts echoed through the trees all in silence. I paused. Heves was in sight but still I turned around and looked in the direction we had come from. For a moment, I thought of Yorwrath and how I didn’t give Grwn an answer, but then I pushed that away and turned back toward Heves.

“He’ll find you.” I jumped at Caoilfionn’s words and turned to face him.

“What?”

“Yorwrath. He’ll hunt you like a wolf does a hare. He’ll be the shadow nipping at your heels…” Caoilfionn tilted his head to the side like he was listening to something.

“I doubt that—truly,” I said, shaking my head, as I moved from under the tree canopy. Caoilfionn followed, and the moment his feet crossed into the unobstructed light, his appearance slowly changed. No longer did he wear the fine white embroidered garments. His clothes were simple, and of various shades of dark brown. His cloak was worn, old, rough fabric that even had a few holes in it. The jerkin he wore also looked to be on its last legs. Only his boots and trousers appeared in good order—but they still appeared to have been worn for at least a handful of winters. The horn disappeared from the center of his forehead, that long white hair shortened to a little longer than shoulder length, and his jaw broadened slightly. Now he certainly looked masculine. Lastly, that large staff he carried twisted until it looked to be nothing more than a discarded tree limb used as a walking stick. Even the color of his irises changed to a pale, almost pastel, turquoise. However, though he changed so much of himself, he kept those delicate points on his ears.

In Heves, we haggled for horses at a small elven farmhouse at the very edge of town. Caoilfionn and the farmer bartered in the elven tongue until eventually a small smile passed over the unicorn’s lips. Somehow he was able to get a horse for forty gold pieces. I had expected something half dead and sickly. Instead, we got a rather spry dapple. Caoilfionn and I quickly stuffed our packs into the saddlebags and in less than an hour were traveling again. I sat behind Caoilfionn in the saddle, my attention focused out over the sprawling vacant fields.

* * * *

Harvest would be soon. Crops bent in the wind that whispered over the meadows and whipped my hair around my face. I could smell the coming rain, heavy and wet on the breeze. My eyelids closed as the horse plodded along.