The Cornish Princess by Tanya Anne Crosby

ChapterTwelve

Gwendolyn returned from her outing alone, with Málik quick on her heels. Her hosen was ruined, torn at the knee, and even now she could feel a small bruise forming. Having abandoned her mare in the courtyard, she rushed into the palace without waiting to secure a groom for her mount. Flushed, with eyes burning, she ran through the corridors, avoiding everyone’s gazes, seeking the sanctuary of her bower.

News traveled swiftly. Once in her bower, it wasn’t long before Ely came bursting through her door, an unexpected but familiar sight that brought a fresh sting of tears to Gwendolyn’s eyes. “What happened?” asked Ely, wide-eyed.

Gwendolyn might have cast herself into her friend’s arms and spent her unshed tears, except that she knew intuitively that if Ely had heard, her mother and Demelza wouldn’t be far behind. “I don’t know,” Gwendolyn confessed, shaking her head. “I-I… I don’t know. We were in the cavern below the Dragon’s Lair—”

“You and Prince Locrinus?”

“Yes,” said Gwendolyn, her legs trembling, her hands as well. She sat on the bed, fearing she might swoon, her lips trembling as she spoke. As best she could, she explained what happened—although truly, there wasn’t much to say, and in hindsight, it seemed a very silly thing to do, to run from one’s betrothed, for no good reason at all.

Gods, every time she envisioned Málik’s face—his dark expression as she’d passed him by, she wanted to spew the meager victuals of the day. Setting a hand to her belly, she attempted to settle her nerves, relieved beyond measure to have Elowyn’s counsel.

Quickly, she recounted the events of the entire day—everything, from her disappointment in Loc’s response to her Dancing Stones, to the confusing incident beneath the Dragon’s Lair. She spoke without taking a breath, afraid that her mother would intrude and the moment would be lost. Thankfully, all her good friend’s quarrels seemed forgotten under the veil of her concern.

“He put a hand on your thigh?”

Gwendolyn nodded. “My waist. And then…”

“He said what?”

Gwendolyn tried to recall precisely what Loc had said, her cheeks burning hot. “He said, ‘I beg forgiveness, Princess, but you must realize… there are certain things I will not take for granted.’”

Ely’s brow furrowed. “What do you think he meant to do?”

Gwendolyn shrugged. “Perhaps nothing,” she said.

And then, suddenly, a thought occurred to her, and she peered up, afraid the worst had come to pass. “Do you believe he heard about my swim with Bryn?”

“Anything is possible,” said Ely, nipping at her lower lip, and Gwendolyn nodded.

Confused and embarrassed, her eyes brimmed anew, hot tears spilling through her lashes. “I regret everything, Ely—everything!” Traitorous tears made tracks down her cheeks, and Ely came to her at once, embracing her and saying, “Hush, dear friend. Don’t weep.”

“I am not weeping,” said Gwendolyn, pushing her gently away.

She’d promised herself many moons ago that she’d never shed another tear—not for her mother, not for her circumstances, not for any reason at all. She was a princess of Pretania! She would face many injustices and trials over the years to come, and she must not face them with tears.

“Of course you aren’t,” said Ely, gently. “You never weep.”

“Nay! I do not,” agreed Gwendolyn, even as tears salted her lips. She reached up to swipe the telltale moisture away, and said, “No more!”

Ely laughed softly, reaching out to brush still more tears from Gwendolyn’s face. “Dry your eyes now,” she said. “You are my Princess, and I love you dearly. And by the by, if you really must know, Bryn blames himself, not you. All is well, Gwendolyn.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” argued Gwendolyn, still furious with herself. “He didn’t even wish to go to the glen. I never once questioned how things might appear.”

They weren’t children any longer. To behave as carefree as children were wont to do was inexcusable. They couldn’t continue rushing about the countryside, divesting themselves of clothing, pretending to conquer demons, or rushing about chasing piskies. It was long past time for Gwendolyn to consider all the consequences of her actions.

She peered up at her good friend and confessed, “I have taken too much for granted. I realize only now how little regard I’ve had for the consequences of my decisions.”

Ely averted her gaze toward the high window, perhaps considering Bryn.

“I am sorry,” Gwendolyn offered, with the deepest of sorrow.

“Fret not, Gwendolyn,” said Ely, and Gwendolyn took her by the hand and pulled her down to sit beside her on the bed.

“I hope Bryn may someday forgive me,” she said.

“Oh, Gwendolyn, I told you. He has,” Ely reassured, and then she turned to meet Gwendolyn’s gaze, peering straight into her eyes. “My brother is well, if only disheartened. He will grow accustomed to his new duties.”

Gwendolyn gave a nod of acknowledgment, and Ely’s voice turned up another notch with her curiosity. “Did he truly kiss you?”

“Indeed. Only a peck.”

“On the lips?”

Gwendolyn nodded, and Ely said, “How romantic!”

But it didn’t feel romantic.

Not in the least.

Once again, the thought of Málik Danann brought a rush of heat into Gwendolyn’s cheeks. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard and seen?

With some effort, she cast away the memory of his censure, and considered how she might endeavor to make amends to Prince Loc. Lamentably, there was no good reason for her childish behavior, and now she must endeavor to think of a good explanation in order to mitigate the damage she might have caused to their alliance.

Even now, was he telling his father?

And then, would they complain to hers?

Well, she would know soon enough, because doubtless that’s what had waylaid her mother. They were all likely in Konsel, discussing Gwendolyn’s unruly behavior. At any moment, Queen Eseld would come marching into her room with all traces of the morning’s joy vanished from her countenance.

“What will you do?” asked Ely.

“Whatever I must.”

If she was asked to kiss his feet, for the sake of the realm, she would. Gwendolyn squeezed her friend’s hand and said, “I beg you, allow me to make amends, Ely. I cannot do much for Bryn, but I know you really don’t wish to dance. Allow me to take you with me to Loegria.”

Ely’s brows lifted, her eyes brightening, although her objection was incongruous. “We can’t! Your mother—my mother!”

Gwendolyn smiled then. “That was before. Isn’t it you who always endeavors to remind me there is a silver lining in every dark night?”

Elowyn shrugged, and Gwendolyn continued. “Bryn will no longer accompany me, and if you come with me as my maid—something I do not yet have for my own—you might live your life as you please, and perhaps even find a suitor amidst Prince Locrinus’ men.”

Gwendolyn could see the hope alight in her eyes. “Truly?”

Gwendolyn nodded. “Truly. And no matter how upset they might be, why should your parents forsake you? ’Tis no secret you do not wish to dance, and I am owed a lady’s maid of my choosing, which, like my dowry chest, has as yet been denied me. So do not fret,” said Gwendolyn. “I will see to it.”

Ely smiled then and dared to ask, “How did it feel?”

“What?”

“Your first kiss!”

Gwendolyn sat back, her brow furrowing over the question. Because it should have been… titillating. And yet, all she could think of at the moment was that terrible look in Málik’s eyes, and the horrible apprehension she’d felt down deep in her soul.

It was as though… she’d felt… trapped.

“Oh, Gwen! Was it truly so awful?” asked Ely, surprised. How long had they anticipated first kisses—how giddily had they spoken of them?

“No,” said Gwendolyn “It… was… fine.”

Ely blinked. “Fine?”

“Sweet,” Gwendolyn corrected. “Gentle and sweet.”

“Do you look forward to more?”

Gwendolyn furrowed her brow, considering her answer…

No.

She did not.

Though why didn’t she wish to kiss Prince Loc? He was charming, intelligent, gently spoken, and learned, as well. Nothing about him should give anyone pause, except for that uncomfortable moment in the cave.

He was her betrothed. He was the most beautiful man she had ever met… and despite that, she dared to wonder if Málik’s lips would be so cold.