Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

77. Guinevere

77

GUINEVERE

The human leaders were far from happy, but Gwen had given up on that. They were pacified. They’d agreed to Arran’s plans for which valley each force would defend, and then eventually to Gwen’s for how to deploy those forces on their battlefield at Camlann. She would leave the rest to Sylva. Her house was close enough to the rift to Annwyn that the human leadership retired there. She’d been plying them with wine and biscuits when Gwen left.

Elora was in conference with Agravayn and General Ache, the commander of the Aquarians. Aquarian Fae. Gwen shook her head as she climbed, digging her toes deep into the sand of the dune with each step to keep from backsliding.

Humans in alliance with fae. Terrestrials and elementals working together. Storybook legends come to life.

A few more steps and she crested the dune. Only to find her retreat occupied.

Lyrena glanced over her shoulder long enough to identify her and to flash a grin. She held up a flagon of wine in welcome. “This was meant to be a private party, but I suppose it is bad form not to share with a fellow Knight.”

Whatever other expressions she wore on that lovely golden face, they were lost to the dark as Lyrena swung back around. The valley below was completely bathed in darkness. The succubus needed no light. But Gwen knew they were there. Lyrena did as well. Only the winged faeries patrolling the edge of the valley held them at bay.

Despite her better judgment, Gwen dropped down into the sand. She even accepted the wine. She took a few gulps and tried not to draw any comparisons to the last time she’d shared wine with a friend.

“This was not the future I imagined when I became a Goldstone,” Lyrena said after her next sip.

“You thought you’d serve Arthur.” They’d never discussed it, but Gwen knew Lyrena’s history. The gossiping elementals had been only too happy to share once she’d arrived in Baylaur. And once Gwen became a Goldstone Guard? The late king’s betrothed and his mistress serving together? The elementals thrived on that sort of nonsense.

But that was exactly what it was. Nonsense.

“Of course,” Lyrena nodded. “And you thought you’d marry him.”

“Of course,” Gwen echoed.

Lyrena turned to look at her, squinting in the darkness. Then she gave up and drank more wine. Gwen rolled her eyes, an indulgence she only allowed herself because the dark prevented anyone else from seeing.

A single scream echoed from the valley below. One of the faeries had gotten too close. Gwen held her breath, waiting for more screams. More carnage. The lioness sniffed the air, scenting the succubus and trying to estimate their proximity. But the night remained quiet. The battle delayed a few more hours.

“Do you think we’ll ever really move on?”

Gwen was not sure if the question was to her or the night. But she answered anyway. “I have moved on.”

Lyrena snorted. “I loved the male. You loved the promise of him. Which do you think is harder to let go of?”

Gwen had let go. Arthur was not the one that haunted her. She’d realized months ago that Veyka was the better queen. For all her anger and ruthlessness, her capacity for passion and love far exceeded Gwen’s own. Veyka was the queen that Annwyn needed.

“Letting go is not just saying goodbye to the past,” Lyrena said, her voice soft. Private. Just for the two of them. “It also means looking to the future.”

Gwen followed Lyrena’s gaze out into the darkness. A slight smile played across the female’s face. Whatever Lyrena saw, it wasn’t the succubus that waited in the valley below.

She was so… golden. Full of hope. Gwen had never felt that, not even with promise of an entire kingdom bowing at her feet. Maybe it was the amount of wine that the female consumed on a daily basis. That, at least, she could try.

Lyrena moved at the same time as Gwen, handing her the wine while she reached. Their hands collided first, then their elbows tangled and then—then their faces.

Her golden skin was impossibly soft.

Gwen jerked back. No more wine. She was responsible for thousands of lives. Her mind could not afford to be addled by alcohol… or anything else.

Gwen clambered to her feet, her usual grace stolen by the thick sand. Lyrena watched from beneath raised golden brows. Her gaze roamed—over Gwen’s face, to where her woolen tunic stretched taut across her breasts. When she lifted her eyes again, there was no ignoring the ring of glowing light around the pupils.

But Lyrena made no move. She took another drink of wine and smiled. “Someday, I’ll convince you to see the light.”

Gwen had nothing to say to that, so she retreated, back down the dune into the village. The tiniest, most fragile and secret part of her hoped that Lyrena was right.