LITMIR.BIZ

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was dark apart from the bright squares of sunlight on the rush-covered floor, falling from the windows high up in one wall. ‘Help me to that chair, Gwydion. Then sit.’

      Gwydion fetched a stool from the side of the room and sat near the king, who beckoned to a servant hovering nearby.

      ‘Here.’ King Wulfric said, as the servant handed Gwydion a small, cloth-bound package. ‘I have been waiting to give this to you.’

      The package was surprisingly heavy. Gwydion balanced it on his knees and carefully opened the wrapping. A large gold brooch, fashioned in the shape of a wolf with garnets for eyes, glittered against the dark cloth.

      Gwydion smiled. The wolf was the symbol of the royal house.

      ‘Thank you, Sire.’ He pinned the brooch to his cloak. ‘May I see Edith now? I did not speak to her about our marriage on the journey back to Helmswick, but—’

      ‘Gwydion,’ Wulfric raised his hand, interrupting, ‘I am afraid the matter is more … complicated than I anticipated.’

      Gwydion frowned.

      ‘I see no complication, Sire. I have completed the quest.’

      ‘Yes, yes.’ The king paused again. ‘But you see, when I offered the reward, I did not expect …’ He straightened up. ‘The truth is, Gwydion, I did not expect the quest to be completed by one such as you.’

      Gwydion felt the blood flame into his cheeks.

      ‘The princes and lords you sent out failed, Sire. Most of them didn’t even return.’

      ‘I know. And I would give much to know the details of how you succeeded where they failed.’ King Wulfric glanced up at Gwydion from under his brow: – a glance full of speculation – but Gwydion remained silent. ‘Still, the ancient law is clear, as is the mood of the council. The heir to the throne must marry one of noble blood. Of noble, Saxon blood.’ The King leant forwards awkwardly patted Gwydion on the hand. ‘But you can still be a prince, Gwydion. You may marry Audrey. She is only fourteen, but in a year’s time—’

      ‘Audrey?’ Gwydion clenched his fists. He could barely even remember Audrey. She had only ever been Edith’s cousin, an annoying child Gwydion had always done his best to ignore. In Gwydion’s universe Audrey was an insignificant, barely visible star. Edith was the sun. He had adored her since they were both children, and she had stopped the steward from beating him, had allowed him to join in her games on the lawns outside the great hall. By the time he was sixteen and Edith was fourteen, he knew he was in love with her. Since then, he had never thought about anyone else. And at some point, he did not remember when, he realised that loving Edith, gaining Edith, would bring him everything else he desired as well.

      ‘I did not kill the Sorceress in order to become a prince. You and the council think me too lowly to take the throne. But I love Edith. I always have done. And she loves me.’ He went down on one knee before the king. Wulfric, sick and weak as he was, would not willingly disinherit his only child. Councils could be dealt with. Laws could be amended. Gwydion took a deep breath, tried to steady the quickening of his pulse. Once he and Edith were actually married, everything else could be managed. ‘I saved her life, Sire. I risked my own life to bring her back to you. Surely, if she wants to be with me, to give up her claim to the throne, you will not prevent it?’

      Wulfric gazed down at him, and Gwydion wondered why the king’s eyes were filled with pity.

      ‘I think you had better talk to Edith,’ Wulfric said. ‘Let her be summoned.’ A guard, who had been standing unobtrusively in the shadows, bowed and ran from the room. Gwydion saw two more guards, heavily armed, still waiting by the doorway. Did the king … fear him?

      Edith soon appeared. She was pale and thin from her captivity, and Gwydion knew the long sleeves of her gown concealed scars that would never truly fade. The Sorceress had been bleeding her, stealing her life force to work dark magic. But she was still his Edith: her wavy chestnut hair was loose about her shoulders, and the copper colour of her gown brought out the golden flecks in her dark brown eyes. She smiled at him.

      ‘Gwydion, I am so happy to see you.’ She went up on tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly before stepping back. ‘The healers would not let me out of bed until three days ago, and I was not allowed visitors.’

      ‘I know. But now we can be together. And we won’t ever be parted again.’ Gwydion lifted Edith’s hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘You need only tell your father what you want.’

      Edith’s smile faded a little. ‘What I want? What I want is for you to be honoured in this country, as you should be, and for you to live in Helmswick, and to be happy. And maybe in time, when Audrey is older …’

      Gwydion shook his head, as the first cold tendrils of doubt crept into the dark corners of his mind.

      ‘What does Audrey have to do with anything? You know how to make me happy, Edith. Tell the king you love me. Tell him you renounce the throne so we can be married.’

      Edith stepped back, what little colour she had draining from her cheeks. ‘But Gwydion, I don’t understand. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember; more than friends. I don’t want to be parted from you. But I cannot – I cannot marry you.’

       Friends?

      ‘What did you say?’

      ‘I said, I cannot marry you, Gwydion.’

      Gwydion bit his tongue until he tasted blood in his mouth. This was supposed to be his moment of triumph – was the woman he loved about to snatch it away from him?

      ‘Edith, if you still wish to be queen, I will try to understand. But I’m begging you, tell me we can at least still be to each other what we used to be. Tell me that I can live here with you, and we can walk together in the grounds each day, and I can teach you about the flight of birds and the uses of herbs and the movement of the stars. Tell me that you love me.’

      Tears started into Edith’s eyes.

      King Wulfric stepped forwards. ‘Gwydion, while you were—’

      ‘No, father – I must tell him.’ Edith took Gwydion’s hands. ‘Before you came to find me, you were away for three years, Gwydion. I was only fifteen when you left. Three years is a long time.’

      ‘I went to seek my fortune. You were never going to marry me as I was.’ Gwydion closed his eyes briefly. ‘My father died while I was away. Did you know that?’

      ‘I did; he was a good man. Gwydion, I understand why you left. But you did leave. And then, before the Sorceress—’ She stopped, shuddering. ‘Before I was taken, an Irish prince came to stay here. His name is Aidan. I love you Gwydion; I love you like a brother. But I am in love with him.’

      Aidan. The image of the tall Celt Gwydion had seen that morning flashed into his mind.

      ‘But I am in love with you, Edith. Did you never realise?’

      ‘No. Because you never told me so, Gwydion.’

      ‘How could I, until I had bettered myself?’ Gwydion knew he was shouting, but he didn’t care. ‘And how did this Aidan have time to come here and – and make love to you, yet not have time to rescue you from the Sorceress?’

      ‘He tried to. He nearly died.’

      ‘I wish with all my heart he had.’

      Edith snatched her hands away.

      ‘If I could spare you this pain I would, Gwydion. You have to believe me. I would do almost anything. But I will not marry you.’

      ‘But your father promised—’

      ‘I should not have done so,’ Wulfric interrupted. ‘Aside from Edith’s feelings, it is a good match. Edith has a responsibility to our people. We need allies, especially given the constant attacks of those Kentish thugs—’

      ‘Father!’

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