Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [110]
Reluctantly, she nodded. She could tell; every moment he had been here, his heart had been with his king. She had been wrong in thinking him heart whole. He was a man driven by duty, and protective of his friends. He mistrusted the queen. There was nothing else that would have so great a part in his life. Not even, maybe, a lover.
“Perhaps, perhaps, there is also a touch of wariness there,” Lleudd continued. “You bargained with the Folk of Annwn. You are being served by them, in a sense. You are known to be subject to the Sight at times. Most warriors are uneasy in the presence of magic. And, yes, the Merlin has served the High King for longer than Lancelin, but the Merlin has ever been secretive about his magic. Few have ever seen him actually use it.”
Slowly, slowly, the king’s calm reason overcame her fury. Tears started into her eyes, and she dashed them angrily away. “You are not uneasy in the presence of magic!”
“I was wedded to Eleri,” he pointed out dryly. “I have a Lady for a daughter, a bard for a son-by-marriage. Even so, I have never seen the Folk of Annwn. No one I know has, until now. This is more than mere magic, my daughter. This is meddling with the Spirit Realms.”
And this was her fault, how? “I didn’t know they would come! I only wanted to make a swamp to last for a fortnight or two!” Her eyes burned, her stomach tightened. “They wanted to treat with me, not the other way around!”
“I know that.” The king pointedly ignored her reddening eyes. “But . . . you are like your mother. You look much younger than your years. You are fair, and most of them are dark. And now this; it makes people wonder if you have the blood of Annwn in your veins yourself. Now, this is unfair. It is unjust. But it could have been predicted, I think.”
She stared in unhappy outrage—and some guilt, for had she not thought these very things herself? “What can I do?” she asked, controlling herself with an effort. Again, she tried not to wail.
“First, we do not speak of the Folk of Annwn in your swamp. Your bargain means that they will not harry our people; likely will not show themselves.”
She nodded. That was good sense. “You think maybe people will forget?”
He shook his head. “But we can put it about that it was Ifan they treated with, and I will say I granted him the lands you gave them. Only my war chiefs know the truth. Ifan is a bard. Everyone knows that the Folk of Annwn favor bards.”
Again she nodded. “And—”
“And as for the rest, this will be hard, but you have done harder things.” He smiled at her. “The High King has never had a female among his warriors. And if you are to break past that, you must remember that you are a warrior first, last, and always. That you are a woman is merely . . . an inconvenience. Do you understand?”
She was very glad that the other war chiefs were not here to see her fighting to hold back tears. The last thing she needed at this moment was to seem weak. Womanly. Her father was right, very right, and he was only reminding her of what she had known herself.
“Yes, my King,” she replied, straightening her back.
“Good.” He smiled. “Now, any warrior thus supplanted could be expected to be angry. I have seen many of my own chiefs in a rage over such an insult. Chopping wood is a good way to relieve that anger. Is your anger relieved?”
She took several deep breaths and blinked her eyes dry. “Yes, my King.”
“And since the High King has seen fit to leave one of my ablest strategists behind, I expect War Chief Captain Gwenhwyfar to take command of all of my men that have been left to me.” He waited a moment for the meaning of what he had just said to come home to her. And the moment it did, her eyes widened in shock.
“But—I—”
“My remaining chiefs do not think as quickly as you do.