Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [40]
But she was still young enough that it didn’t matter. He probably thought that he was going to go meet up with some of the squires for an illicit berry feast, perhaps, or some night fishing, or even for the sharing out of too much stolen ale or mead. He still had to know, of course, and he followed her for a bit. But under his watchful eye, she went right where she said she was going, laid the hide down over the grass, rolled up the blanket into a pillow, and laid herself down to stare up at the night sky. Satisfied, he went back to his post.
What the queen had told her still warmed her heart and gave her a thrill of pride. It was one thing to have her father beaming at her—she was doing just what he had hoped one of his children would, she had joined the ranks of the warriors, she was doing well at her duties, and it was only natural that he was proud of her. Perhaps it was a mild surprise that it was Gwen in particular, but Braith was a trusted member of his elite fighting force, and the last thing he would do would be to prevent Gwen from following in the footsteps of such a valued warrior and driver.
But she was doing precisely the opposite of what the queen had planned for her. She’d avoided thinking about it, but underneath everything, she’d been certain that Eleri must be disappointed in her. Maybe angry.
But she wasn’t—so not only was Gwen proud and happy, she was relieved. It wasn’t often that Eleri changed her mind or her plans; it wasn’t often that she needed to. Gwen had felt the weight of Eleri’s expectations weighing her spirit down with dread; now that weight was gone, and she felt light enough to fly up to the moon.
Underneath all that was one thing more; the farther her duties took her from the women’s side of castle life, the less time she had to spend in Little Gwen’s company. That was a relief too. In fact, it was entirely possible that at some point she would be expected to move from that comfortable bed to a pallet in the great hall with the others. Little did they know that she would gladly trade that warm bed and its unruly occupant for relative discomfort and peace!
In the morning Gwen returned to the bedchamber, intending to leave the blanket and rug and go straight out to her duties, only to walk into a storm. And at the center of that storm was Little Gwen.
Cataruna stood with her arms crossed and her lips pressed tightly together as Little Gwen tore through the two packs she had carefully made up, hissing angrily that Cataruna had stolen her things. “Where is my comb?” she demanded, her voice getting louder with each moment. “You took it! And my ribbons! And my top!”
Quietly, Gwen edged into the room and dropped her burdens in the corner. She would have liked to edge out again, but by this point, Little Gwen’s tantrum was turning into a full blown tirade when she didn’t find any of the things she was claiming were “stolen.” Cataruna’s belongings were scattered all over the floor as if tossed by a whirlwind, and Bronwyn, awakened by the fuss, appeared at the door curtain—
But at that same moment, someone far more important than Bronwyn appeared at the door to the solar.
It was the king.
Without a word, he strode into the room, picked up Little Gwen by the scruff of her neck, and shook her until her teeth rattled. Shocked into silence, her eyes gone round as river stones, when he let go of her, she fell in an unmoving heap on the floor.
“How dare you disturb the queen’s rest?” he snarled, staring down at Little Gwen. “How dare you trouble the mother of my son? How dare you, miserable changeling? Enough! More than enough!” He turned to Bronwyn. “See to it that she repacks all of Cataruna’s things with care, while my good Cataruna