She looked at him with mingled fondness and rueful hope. “For one with so few friends, you do have a lot of faith in certain people. I hope you’re not disappointed.”
“I have faith in the two of you,” Gwydion replied, with a glance toward her and Pryderi. “And neither of you have let me down yet.”
“Perhaps later,” said Pryderi, with a wry little smile.
Color rose to Branwen’s cheeks. She looked down at their hands, but she did not pull away. “You’re a rather disappointing trickster. Your truths are far more charming than your lies.”
He laughed quietly. “I’ll try to make my lies more charming.”
“Don’t.” Her fingers gently squeezed his. “Please don’t.”
A shiver of pleasure ran up his arm. He liked the way she touched him—without hesitation or fear. She was so close he could see the flecks of gray in her eye.
It would be so simple to kiss her.
The thought jolted him. It was a wild impulse, likely brought onby the chaos of the day. They were lucky to be alive; it was natural that he yearned for the nearness of another.
Of all the lies he might have told himself, that was the weakest. Because looking at Branwen in the dim light of the cabin, unarmored and half smiling, he saw how easy it would be to fall in love with her.
He could not. She was a weakness he could never afford.
CHAPTER 27
DEEP IN THE heart of the forest, there was a cave.
If she had not known it was there, Branwen would not have found it. Cigfa had told them the paths to walk, the streams to follow, the signs to look for. A large oak tree had grown over the entrance. It was Gwydion who stepped forward, whistling as he approached. At the sound, the roots parted.
Branwen inhaled. The air smelled damp and stale.
“If this is a trap, it’s a good one,” said Pryderi. He stood with his spear resting against his shoulder. “Once we go in there, it would be a simple matter to collapse the way out.”
“Would anyone even know to look for this place?” said Branwen. “We never would have known, if Gwydion hadn’t figured out Cigfa was hiding something.”
Gwydion gave a humble shrug. “The otherfolk cannot deal inlies. It made sense if she was unnaturally cooperative that she was trying to hide something.”
“It also explains why there is no illusion here,” said Branwen. There was no telltale glitter of gold, no spells cast across the cavern. Rather, someone had used the tree’s roots and the foliage to hide it. “The folk would notice magic.”
“I wonder what kind of game animal Arawn uses,” said Gwydion. “What would be comfortable in a cave?”
“An afanc,” said Pryderi.
“A llamhigyn y dwr,” said Branwen.
Gwydion grimaced. “And here I was hoping it would be an otter.”
Branwen took half a step forward. The cave seemed to inspire dread; it looked like a place for dark and crawling things. They would have to venture inside without knowledge of what was awaiting them. Cigfa could not lie, but the folk could mislead through omission. She had said she did not know what creature possessed the ring, but she might have doomed them all by neglecting to mention that there was a secret passage or a lever that had to be pulled, lest a trap kill them all.
Not a comforting thought.
“Who is going first?” asked Branwen.
Before either of them could answer, Palug’s tail brushed the inside of her calf. He trotted into the cave.
They stared after him.
“Is the cat braver than all of us?” asked Gwydion.
“Yes,” said Pryderi.
