You will hunt that which you love.
Yesterday, they had been friends. Now they were a monster, a throne breaker, and a huntress. If those foretellings had been a gift, Pryderi wished he could have refused his.
Sunlight gleamed through the roots of the oak tree. Gwydion let out an audible sigh of relief as they stepped into the forest. The sun waned, and once again, the air tasted of winter. These lands might not have been mortal, but at least they were familiar.
“I’ll find us another tree,” Gwydion said, speaking for the first time since the cavern. “Then we can rest. I believe we’ve earned it.”
Pryderi considered protesting. They had the rings; they should have made for camp at once. He yearned to be rid of those wretched things. They were too dangerous, too much a burden. But an exhaustion had taken hold of him, and he had not the will to fight it.
Branwen smiled at Gwydion. “That would be welcome.”
“How is your head?” asked Gwydion.
She touched a finger to her right temple. “Once we rest, I’ll use the iron blindfold again.”
“We should go a short ways from the cave.” Gwydion glanced back at the entrance, as though distrustful of it. “I will not sleep well near it.”
“Agreed,” said Branwen.
They fell into conversation, and Pryderi was glad of it. It meant he was not expected to contribute.
Perhaps, once the Hunt was over, he would return to his foster family. If he would never be a king, he might try to be a farmer again. Let his monstrous instincts grind themselves out against soil and rock. He sighed, forcing himself back to the moment. He would worry about his future once they were safe.
“—think Palug is the reason for it?” Branwen was saying.
Gwydion was shaking his head. The cat rode atop his shoulder, eyes half-closed in the bright sunshine. “He must be. I had wondered why we never encountered any monsters.”
“He doesn’t look threatening,” said Branwen, ruffling her cat’s fur. “Not even with my magicked eye.”
“Perhaps it’s the smell,” said Gwydion.
“Are you saying my cat smells?” Branwen laughed. “Because he might take offense to that and—”
There was a whisper of air, a rustle of leaves.
And then an arrow cut through the undergrowth and slammed into her side.
CHAPTER 29
IT HAPPENED SO quickly that Gwydion did not sense the arrow.
One moment they were walking through patchy sunlight, smiling and triumphant—and the next Branwen staggered. Confusion flashed across her face, and she crashed to the ground, an arrow buried in her side.
“NO!”
At first, Gwydion thought he had uttered the word. It resonated through him, a denial that clawed up his throat. But the bellow had come from Pryderi. Spear in hand, the prince whirled toward where the arrow had been fired from.
Fear and fury churning with him, Gwydion fell beside Branwen. She lay on her side, curled in on herself. It had struck her in her right side. Gwydion had spent enough time with the healers that he knew it was a dangerous place for a wound.
“Branwen,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Let me.” As gently as he could, he rolled her onto her back. She cried out, the movement jostling the arrow. A phantom pain flared in his own stomach, but he ignored it. He used one of his small knives to cut open her tunic.
He remembered that first night, when he used his magic to unbind her dress. He remembered the delicate color on her cheekbones, and the way her eyes caught the candlelight. She had been beautiful in a moss-green gown with her hair bound into a braid. Now, her face was drawn with pain, her fingers digging into the earth as though she needed something to cling to.
There were sounds coming from the trees—the clash of weapons upon weapons, shouts and snarls, and the pained whisper of magicked trees as hot iron sank into the earth.
There was one kind of iron that all humans carried with them. It soaked through Branwen’s shirt, warm and sticky against his fingers.
Either Pryderi or Branwen’s attacker was bleeding. He hoped it was the latter. Let it be the latter. Gwydion could not fight and keep Branwen safe at the same time. Her lips were pale and eyes glazed with pain.
