“You’ve divined neither,” she said.
She closed her eyes again—and so she heard Gwydion’s sharp intake of breath. A soft whisper and then something nearly like song.
Her eyes blinked open, and at once, she saw the glitter of gold. It danced around the left sprig.
She touched it. “That one.”
Surprise flashed across his face. He glanced at the mint, then back at her. “I’ve… never heard of such a power.”
“That’s because it was an accident,” she said. “My mam was a midwife. She delivered a child of the folk—and in the delivery, I was touched with the same oils meant to anoint the child.” She touched her right eye. “Here. I use the iron blindfold to keep the power contained when I don’t have to use it.”
As she spoke, a light kindled behind Gwydion’s expression. He looked like a man who had discovered a great treasure hidden in a heap of sheep’s dung.
“Don’t look at me like that,” said Branwen.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not as valuable as you think I am,” she said tightly.
She did not know how to tell him that she failed far more often than she succeeded. She had not saved that traveler on the road when she was young; she had not saved her cousin’s daughter when mercenaries came for them; she had not saved Ifor’s son; she had not saved Davies nor Rhain.
The memories welled up like old blood, flooding her mouth with bitterness.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing toward her.
She shrugged.
He leaned into her, his hand hovering over her cheek. She could feel the warmth of his fingers, so close that a breath could barely pass between them. He studied her, a line of concentration between his brows. “I can’t see anything abnormal about that eye.” He sat back, hand falling away. “Why do you keep your power hidden?”
“Because I would rather not be conscripted,” she said tartly, “by Gwynedd’s spymaster.”
Gwydion opened his mouth, as though to protest that such a thing would never happen.
“All right,” he admitted. “That might happen. But we don’t have a spymaster—just me.”
“The court gardener?” she said skeptically.
“The court trickster,” he amended. “I found secrets more useful.”
“Pity, that. I think plants are better company than secrets.” Branwen sighed. “But now you know why I can hunt monsters. It is why I agreed to look for Barwn Ifor’s son. Because I alone can slip in and out of Annwvyn without fear of being ensnared by a spell or one of the otherfolk. But even with my abilities, I’m not sure I could survive the Hunt.”
He nodded. “Having seen that ci annwn, I understand your reluctance to join the Wild Hunt. Tell me, what do you want?”
She did not answer. Truths were dangerous as blades if placed in the wrong hands. And her wants were nameless things that she dared not give voice to. To do so would be to give them power over her. “You first,” she said. “No lies. Why do you want to win the Wild Hunt?”
Gwydion’s gaze flicked away. He seemed to be gathering hiswords, pulling them from some deep and painful place within himself. “My uncle is the king,” he said. “You know that, of course. What you don’t know is that he plans to choose his heir from my siblings. My brother Amaethon is the king’s first choice. He is…” Gwydion’s right hand twitched. “… Not suitable. His cruelty could doom Gwynedd. My nephews were nearly killed less than a week ago because Amaethon has so many enemies he could not count them all. I fear what he would do with a throne.” He inhaled deeply. “My sister, Arianrhod, would be a good princess, but she does not have Amaethon’s ambition. But if I bring her the spoils of the Hunt, she could use them to take the throne.”
Branwen blinked. She had never truly given much thought to the passing of Gwynedd’s crown. For her, rulers were as distant and constant as the sun.
“Does the king know you’re attempting this?” she asked.
“No, and he won’t know until I win it,” said Gwydion. “I’d rather not have him maneuvering against my plans in the meantime.”
“So you’re here for our kingdom?” asked Branwen. “You wish to save Gwynedd from your tyrannical brother?”
Gwydion smiled thinly. “Is that not enough?”
“For a pig-stealing trickster?” Branwen raised her brows. “Likely not.”
