Panic had dissolved his surety. Gone was the elegant and self-assured young man, and in his place was someone that looked fearful and boyish. “Branwen, we need to go,” he said, as though he haduttered the words again and again. “Word will be traveling to Arawn and Pwyll.”
“Go?” she said. She could not imagine going anywhere. It felt as though the world had been cleaved away with that single arrow. All that existed was this clearing, this moment, this fallen friend. “Go where?”
“Gwynedd,” he said. His hands came up, cupping her face so that she could not look at Pryderi. “We’ll be protected there. When they come for us, they’ll have to bring an army.”
“When they come for us?” He was not making sense.
“Pwyll,” he said. On the surface, his voice was calm, but there was a pressing urgency beneath every word. “Arawn. I know the Wild Hunt is supposed to be that everyone is fair game, but not like this. Not when we infiltrated the Hunt.”
“I killed him,” she said numbly.
Something between shame and defiance flashed through Gwydion’s eyes. “You did not.”
“I fired the arrow,” she said. “I meant to stop you.”
Pain flickered across Gwydion’s face. “I know. This is my fault. I didn’t mean to—it was an accident. I tried to shove the arrow away from me. I didn’t intend for it to hit him.” He looked at her pleadingly, as though it was important that she believed him.
She was not sure what she believed.
“We killed him,” she said. “He was our friend. He deserved better than this.”
“We need to go,” he said. “Branwen, please. Come with me. You’ll be safe in Caer Dathyl.”
Pryderi had been good. He had been kind when kindness was costly. He had been a cornerstone of their little alliance, their little band of hunters. He had wanted to do so much good. He had come here to prove himself… and he had. He had proven himself to be the kind of ruler that Dyfed needed. It had only taken his life to do so.
“No,” she said. “We’re not leaving. Not like this.” It took effort to rise, but she managed it. She feared that if she remained still for too long she would never move again.
“We’ll go to Arawn,” she said. “We’ll make amends. Somehow—we have to. We cannot murder the prince of Dyfed and flee like thieves. Not only would we be hunted for the rest of our lives… it isn’t right.” She stepped toward him. “We’ll tell him and Pwyll that this was an accident.” She was pleading with him, but she could not help herself. She wanted him to make amends, to be the person she wanted him to be.
She waited for a reply, but it did not come. Gwydion’s hands clenched. Even the right one. Which meant hewantedthis moment to hurt.
“Branwen,” said Gwydion, an ache in his voice.
And that was all the answer she needed.
With a growl, Branwen seized her afanc-fang dagger. “Fine, then. You leave. You go—and I swear if you try and take Pryderi’s ring,I will kill you here.”
Gwydion took a step back, hands held out. “Branwen.”
“Just go,” snarled Branwen, taking a step forward.
“They’ll be coming for you, too,” Gwydion said desperately.
She had trusted him. Trusted this beautiful, dark-hairedcreature with the smile of a boy and the mouth of a trickster. They had shared blood and secrets, kept each other safe, and hunted through the otherlands. She had told him her name.
And now he stood before her, asking forgiveness she could not grant.
“I know this started with a lie,” he said. “I care for you. It’s why I tried to bring the lapwing back to you, even if it would have been wiser for me to run. When this began, I just needed a huntress—but I found you. If I had known…”
“If you had known what?” she said, advancing on him. “That I was a person? That I had feelings and family and a life? We’re all people, Gwydion. We’re not your plants, to be controlled at your whims. But you can’t even see that anymore, can you? You’ve spent so long trying to make yourself powerful that you’ve armored yourself against what makes you human.”
He stopped retreating, and the tip of her dagger dug into his tunic. The fang sliced through the wool, kissing flesh. All she had to do was step forward.
“Do it, if you must,” said Gwydion wearily.
Part of her wanted to. Another part of her knew that Pryderi would never have wanted this. He wouldn’t want Branwen to become a murderer in his name.
But before she could make a decision, everything changed.
