Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [59]
The night it had happened, Gwen had stumbled over the box that the Merlin had given her little sister, open, cast aside, and empty. Gwen had numbly picked it up and put it on Little Gwen’s chest; when she looked again, it was gone. For the first time ever, she felt sorry for Gwenhwyfach. Whatever charm the Merlin had given her, Little Gwen must have tried to use to bring their mother back, and it had failed. Not even the strongest magic could bring back the dead, of course, but Little Gwen wouldn’t have believed that until she tried it for herself. Probably her faith in the Merlin and his promise had been discarded in the moment, like the box.
Gwen herself spoke only when she was spoken to, and she spent as much time as she could in the company of Dai and Adara, weeping into their manes.
Nor was the king allowed to grieve in relative peace. No, first the lords and the chieftains, then the messengers had descended. And now, here were come the Queen of the Orkneys and her brood. Supposedly to tender condolences and help, but . . . something in Gwen roused angrily at the look in Anna Morgause’s eyes. There was a satisfaction there, a kind of gloating, that was ugly.
She came with an entourage, but without King Lot or any of her older boys. Gwen had to admit, the only word for her was “enchanting.” Her lush figure would have been the pride of a much younger woman, her raven hair must have stretched out on the ground when it was unbraided, for the single plait that stretched down her back brushed her heels, and was as thick as a strong man’s wrist. Her little face reminded Gwen of a fox. Her clothing would have aroused immediate envy in every woman there, if they had not all been so wrapped in grief.
When she was handed from her cart as she first arrived to be greeted by the king, she looked as if she had just stepped out of her own chamber rather than been traveling for a fortnight. And every man’s gaze was riveted on her. Eleri had always looked far, far younger than she was. Anna Morgause looked ageless.
She had brought with her a wet nurse and Medraut, her new son, and Gwen hated him at first sight. He was long, thin, and pale, with a strange head of thick, black hair, and he didn’t act as a baby should. He never uttered a sound, not even when he was hungry, and he stared at people out of round, black eyes like shiny pebbles, not the blue eyes of most babies. She hated having his eyes follow her, she hated that he looked like a changeling, and she hated most of all that this thing was alive when her own brother, and her mother, were both dead. Vaguely, she felt that this was wrong; she was ten years older than this infant, she shouldn’t feel so threatened by a baby. But she did.
With the queen had come her younger sister, Morgana. Gwen hated her, too. She was poised and controlled, and although she did not have the level of enchantment Anna Morgause had, she still made the young men’s eyes follow her. Her hair was the same raven black, but her face was more catlike than foxlike, and her green eyes glittered with secrets.
When they were presented to the king, Anna Morgause said all the right things, but Gwen heard what was under the words. Silken, soft murmurs of condolence covered piercing blue eyes that looked everywhere for signs of weakness. And when she presented Morgana, there was more calculation. Gwen was proud of her father, though; he might be bleeding inside, but he gave no sign; instead he was gracious, hospitable, and offered his and his daughters’ own bedchambers to the visitors.
“I would not like it that you should take your rest in a rude pavilion,” the king said. “My chamber for you, your son, and his nurse, and Morgana can sleep in the chamber beyond.”
“You are most gracious, my lord. Morgana can share it with your daughters,” Anna Morgause replied, smoothly. Gwen immediately decided that it was time she began sleeping with the squires. Or out of doors. Anything other than sleeping next to the cat and waiting to see if she scratched you in the night. She made the best excuse she could