Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [42]
Something about Cataruna’s tone made Gwen feel obscurely guilty. And even gladder that she’d had Braith to send her in another direction.
“But now—” Cataruna finished the bread with a lift of her head and an air of satisfaction. “Now it’s me that’s going to the Ladies, and it’ll be me that will be the Maiden in the Circle when I get back. And the Ladies won’t know, or won’t care, what great things were expected of you. You’ve gone the path of Iron, and you’ll never be as strong in magic as me now. So when I come back, I’ll be me, Cataruna, with my own place and my own path, just as you’ll have your own place and your own path.” She turned her head to look at Gwen. “I’m really grateful to you, Gwen. That’s why I don’t think I’ll miss home too much. It’s not as if I won’t be coming back, but when I do, it will be as the Blessed Daughter. You’ll be the Warrior Daughter by then, and Gynath—” she chuckled a little “—Gynath will have half the war chiefs wanting her for a bride, and she’ll make Father some good alliance, and then she’ll make him a grandfather, if she hasn’t already by the time I get back. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even get a prince.”
She didn’t say anything about Little Gwen, and Gwen was not inclined to prompt her on that head.
“Did you really want to go to the Ladies that much?” she asked instead.
“As much as you wanted to be a warrior,” Cataruna said fiercely.
“Then I’m glad you’re going.” Gwen surprised her sister, and to an extent herself, by fiercely embracing her.
Cataruna returned the embrace. “And I’m glad you’re happy where you are.” She nodded. “We’re lucky.”
“We are.”
At that moment, Bronwyn made her way across the Great Hall, trailed by a servant with Cataruna’s two packs. Cataruna eyed them curiously.
“The king your father thought of several more things you should take with you,” Bronwyn said, with a glint in her eye, but her lips set in a severe line. “Little Gwen will be making do with made-over gowns for a time; I trust you will find moments to spare to make yourself suitable garments with the lengths in the bottom of the packs.”
Cataruna could not repress a gasp of pleasure; all the girls knew about the lengths of lambs’ wool and linen that had been reserved for Little Gwen. Gwen had been indifferent, since gowns were the last thing on her mind at the moment, but she suspected Cataruna and Gynath had suffered a pang or two of envy. “I shall find the time, somewhere,” she promised fervently. “Father is most gracious.”
Bronwyn looked as if she might say more, but in the end, she only nodded. “Come, it is time. Your escort is waiting.”
But it seemed that more than just the escort was waiting. The king himself came to see his daughter off, something else Cataruna had clearly not expected. He lifted her onto the horse himself, after kissing her on both cheeks. “We send nothing but our best to the Ladies,” he boomed, in a voice intended to carry. “And we know you will make us all proud.”
With her head high, her cheeks glowing, and her eyes shining, Cataruna bowed deeply to her father; then at a word from the king, she and the escort rode off at a brisk walk and were soon over the hill and out of sight.
Bronwyn remained staring after them long after everyone else had gone to their duties, one hand on Gwen’s shoulder, preventing her from leaving. When there was no one else within earshot, Bronwyn looked somberly down at her.
“I would not say this in Cataruna’s hearing, but it was a spiteful splash of venom from that unnatural child that caused the king to rethink her leave-taking.