Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [80]
He announced this in the same matter-of-fact tone that she would have associated with “I’ve killed a deer,” or “one of the watchdogs died,” so for a moment, she was so utterly taken aback that it took her a while to stammer out, “My condolences, Prince—”
“Oh, don’t bother, the cow got what she deserved,” he said, his eyes finally glinting with cruelty, which took her so by surprise that she actually lost her breath. “Two of my brothers, Gwalchmai and Agrwn, found her with a lover. Somehow, they were all too thick to realize she’s had more lovers than a queen bee, but this time they caught her in the middle of making the two-backed beast. They killed her and him.” He shrugged. “He was the son of one of the High King’s allies, so there will be trouble over it, I expect. But it was the price of stupidity, and she was getting more stupid every year. Eventually someone was going to catch her, and if it had not been my brothers, it would have been someone else that King Lot could not ignore. Even if it was him that was her pander more than half the time. She had the appetite of a cat in season. My Aunt Morgana has more sense than the lot of them put together.”
Gwen was so shocked, all she could do was stare at him.
“But that’s not why I’m here,” he continued. “I’m going to my father’s court to present myself to him now that she’s gone, and you should hear that from me.”
She blinked, unable to understand. “Haven’t you just come from there?”
He curled his lip again, and gave her a look of disgust. “Not Lot’s court. My father’s court. My blood father.” When she failed to understand, he heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Arthur.”
Her jaw dropped. “Arthur?” she repeated, stupidly.
He nodded with some satisfaction at her shock. “And now that there’re no little princes in the way, I expect my dear blood father will be pleased to see me. He has no obvious heir, after all. His other sons also seem to have had tragically short lives. So I need you to promise me some things. Morgana gave me some good advice, and I am going to take it. First, I don’t want Arthur to know I’m wedded to your sister. At least, not just yet.”
Not that she was going to get anywhere near the High King to tell him, but—“Why not?” she managed.
“I’m trying to replace his sons. I’d rather he thought of me as a helpless little lad whose mother has just been rent from him. Someone in need of pity, comfort, and guidance from someone other than King Lot.” Somehow, in that moment, Medraut . . . changed. In an instant, his face seemed to grow rounder and softer, his eyes larger and brighter and infinitely sad. His lower lip quivered ever so slightly.
In the next moment, he was back to his normal self, as always, looking like a man far older than his years, with eyes that belonged in the hardened face of someone like Peder. If Peder had no conscience at all.
“You can see how being married would interfere with that,” he pointed out.
She nodded, finding herself agreeing with him, although she really did not want to.
“Second, don’t tell anyone I have the Gifts.” His eyes bored into hers. “That’s something no one at the court needs to know. Ever. I don’t want the Merlin to know, nor the Ladies. I’ve had good training at Morgana’s hands, she has promised me more as I need it, and I don’t feel as if I need to undergo it all over again.”
Again, she nodded.
“Good. Thank you, fair sister.” He smirked. “Fair indeed. I hear they have taken to calling you ‘White Ghost.’ That you frighten the Saxons. That they think you are some uncanny creature out of the spirit world or the realms of the elves.”
She had felt so proud of that, but it felt so . . . foolish when she heard him say it. “There’s no accounting for what soldiers will say,” she replied harshly. “The Saxons don’t believe that a woman can be a warrior, so they have to have some foolish explanation about why and how I