A branch slid across her arm, dragging at the oaken leaves—
And then she was through.
The yew-tree gates of Annwvyn closed behind her. The moment they did, all the sounds of the battle died away. Silence closed in all around her, until the only thing Branwen could hear was that of her own ragged breathing.
She stumbled to a halt.
Gwydion stood in the path. His chest was heaving, face pale and shining with sweat. There was a wildness to him, a ragged energy that seemed to roll off him. There was no restraint to his magic; he had given it free rein for likely the first time in his life.
“What did you do?” she said, her voice a rasp.
Gwydion whirled. When he saw her, his expression crumpled. “No. Not you.” The word frayed on his lips; his pleasant voice had gone hoarse with overuse. “Please—just turn back.”
“I can’t,” she said simply.
For a few moments, neither moved. “You unleashed the forest,” said Branwen.
Gwydion nodded. “I could think of no other way to escape.”
“And the cost?” She thought of how he had spoken of his magic, how every decision had a price. How he had recoiled from using his power too much, lest it shorten his life.
A faint, regretful smile touched his mouth. “It’s not the worst cost I’ve paid in this Hunt.”
Palug came up beside her. The cat shook himself, green eyes on Gwydion.
“I’m sorry,” said Gwydion. “I’m so sorry.”
And perhaps the worst part was she knew he meant it.
Branwen took a step forward. Then another. And another. She could not stop herself, could not even try. “Arawn told me to retrieve the rings.”
Sorrow crossed his face. “That’s who has your brooch,” he said. “I suppose one of his hunters delivered it to him.”
It was not a question, but she nodded.
“You will kill me if I refuse,” said Gwydion. Another not-question.
“Please don’t make me,” she said.
He inhaled. Then he turned to run.
She attacked him.
Gwydion darted to one side, avoiding the first sweep of her sword. Before the blade could kiss his flesh, a dagger flashed upward and knocked the sword aside.
He held a dagger.Herdagger. He must have retrieved it.
The sharp afanc fang looked crude beside her sword, but it would kill her easily enough. For a few heartbeats, they circled each other. She knew what she had to do, even as she fought against it.
You will hunt that which you love.
Branwen lunged. Gwydion stepped aside, and as they passed each other, she was so close she could feel his breath.
She whirled, bringing her sword down. He deflected the blow, trying to yank her sword from her hands. With a snarl, she cracked the pommel into his side.
Her strength overpowered his. He stumbled, pain flashing across his face as he used his right hand to catch himself. Determination settled across the grim lines of his face.
There was intent in his eyes.
