Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [164]
An envoy approached Arthur’s lines, a white pennon tied to his spear. Another, sent from Arthur, met him at the edge of the river. They conferred. Arthur’s envoy returned, then came back and planted his pennon at the river’s edge.
There was a flurry of activity, and a few moments later, Gwen felt her sleeve being pulled. She turned to see that fresh faced young man from Arthur’s entourage. He blushed; he seemed to do that a lot. “You are wanted for the parley, L—warrior,” he said, stumbling as he tried not to say “lady.” She nodded and left one of her men in charge as she joined Arthur. Who still would not look at her. Well, let him sulk. She gazed defiantly at him before following him down to the river’s edge, where Medraut already waited. The tension was intense; faces were strained, and hands hovered near weapons. It would not take much to cause these men to explode into violence.
She tried not to show her surprise to see that Gwenhwyfach waited there too, just behind Medraut. Arthur, however, did not restrain a start at seeing her sister, and, in fact, he finally glanced over at Gwen before looking back at Medraut’s wife. Nor was he the only one. If it had not been that one was gowned and coiffed as a queen and the other had her hair bound up and was in armor, it would have been as if they were reflections of each other.
So, all of you who didn’t believe me . . . there you are. My dear sister, in the flesh, and looking more the queen than I do.
And that seemed . . . petty. Was there any reason for Gwenhwyfach to have dressed as if for a coronation?
Medraut pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. His face was utterly unreadable. “Well, Father,” he began, just a little too casually.
But anything he was going to say was interrupted by his wife.
Gwenhwyfach suddenly stormed across the grass between them, and before Gwen could even think to move or speak, slapped her so hard across the face that her lip split and she saw stars and tasted blood.
“You witless loon!” Gwenhwyfach hissed. “Fool! Idiot! All my life you were first. All my life I was second to you. Finally I was first! Finally I was the one that someone loved! And you ruined that!”
She seized Gwen’s hair and wrenched her head around with shocking strength. “All he asked was for you to love him and be a true woman for him! All! And what did you do? You sat for months in his court and cried for your toy armor and sword like a spoiled brat! So I gave him what he wanted, and he loved me! And you took that away from me!”
With a wrench, she flung Gwen to her knees. “You are no woman,” she spat. “You’re a half man. He should have been mine!”
Gwen stayed on her knees as her mind raced. Now she knew what it was that her visions in Medraut’s cell had shown her. Little Gwen had not fallen entranced with Arthur—she had seen a way to take Gwen’s place with a man who wanted what she was. She had probably been planning to betray Medraut—or at least, put this day off until Arthur died naturally, thus having her crown in both the present and future. But Gwen had escaped and spoiled her plan. Finally she rose, slowly, and looked into her sister’s furious eyes. “Well, little sister,” she said, weighing each word and casting them like weapons. “All my life you have coveted what I had, even when you didn’t truly want it or were ill-suited to it. You wanted Medraut because you thought I wanted him and would be jealous of your married state, but your husband married you because he could not have me.” She wiped away the blood from her lip with the back of her hand. “It must be causing laughter among the gods that my husband saw in you the reflection of what he wanted me to be and was enchanted. You rightly say that you were the one Arthur wanted, and not me, though he knew