Page 22 of A Crown So Cursed (The Goldenchild Prophecy #5)
Esme’s laughter rang with genuine delight. “But you won’t,” she said. “Because so much as you would like me to believe else wise, you trust me—face it. You know, all I have ever done—regardless of how it ever looked—I have done for her .”
She turned briefly to Gwendolyn and smiled warmly, and Málik growled again, but he didn’t disagree.
“Now, what I really need you to do is—” She fluttered her hand, gesturing to the room at large.
“Dress yourself and go. Leave us! Return to your Shadow Court. Convince them to alter the date of Gwendolyn’s trial. ”
“Why?”
“To give us time, of course.”
“They won’t,” he said.
“No, of course they won’t. But in the meantime, you will interject a word here and there about how upset your bride is, and that she’ll not eat, drink… or leave this chamber .”
“She won’t leave this chamber,” Málik said firmly.
“Well… and I am upset,” Gwendolyn allowed.
Only not quite that upset.
In truth, Gwendolyn was suddenly famished, because she now had the taste of hope in her mouth—like honey and nutmeg layered atop old sorrow, and it shocked her how easily those flavors mingled on her tongue.
“Again, I ask: Why?”
“I can only tell Gwendolyn,” Esme maintained. “But don’t worry, Málik, when you return, she will tell you everything !”
“And what will you two do in my absence?”
Esme batted her lashes. “Finish devising my plan, of course.”
Málik frowned. “Will you enlighten me before I go?”
“No,” returned Esme with a smile.
“She speaks true,” declared another voice emanating from the center of the room.
The Púca suddenly materialized in the center of the bed in his cat form.
His fur shimmered between shades of shadow and light, adding a surreal edge to the already charged atmosphere.
Málik’s expression shifted from suspicion to reluctant acceptance as he regarded the creature.
“What is this? A fayre?”
“Well, it could be,” said Esme lightly.
“So you agree with her?” he asked the Púca, his voice heavily laced with incredulity.
The Púca shrugged—as well as cats could shrug, and Málik turned on Esme. “Very well, but if any harm befalls her...”
“It won’t,” she promised. “I love her as much as you do.”
His eyes softened now, a flicker of understanding passing over his features. “I know,” he said a bit more gently, and Gwendolyn stepped closer to him, her hand finding his. “It won’t be for long,” she promised, her storm-gray eyes meeting his ice-blue gaze.
Málik peered once more at the Púca, and the creature swished its long tail with annoyance. “Go on,” it said, and Málik relented, reining in his doubt, if not his disdain, realizing that if there was anything to be gleaned from Esme, it would only be done when he returned.
He took a moment to repair his tunic and then his hair.
“Please take your time,” Esme demanded, her tone buoyant. “We girls have so much to speak of.”
Gwendolyn pursed her lips, even as Málik snarled in response, but he gave no further protest. He shot one last warning glare at Esme, then stormed from the room, pulling the door hard behind him.
A crack of silence followed in his wake.
“Well…” said Esme, smiling. “That was simple enough.”
Gwendolyn laughed softly as the Púca then sauntered over to settle its rear upon Esme’s lap. “I have missed you both,” she said.
The Púca said nothing, but purred, and Esme said, “I missed you, too. But not so much as our brooding prince. I heard tell he prowled these halls, howling like a dog without a bone.”
She sighed. “I did not believe you would return, so I thought I would investigate the mystery of his father’s whereabouts—cheer him, perhaps.
It is good you have come home, because there is no joyful news to impart of his father.
Indeed, if there is ever to be a homecoming for him, it will only be once Lord Elric is dead, and the Shadow Court is dismantled root and branch.
And no matter, he is content enough where he is, and a God’s life—even a demigod's—is long. There will be time.”
“His father is a demigod?”
“Wyrms are all demigods,” Esme allowed. “Málik is too. And you, sister… well, it is not my place to tell you more. You must discover the rest for yourself.”
Gwendolyn frowned. Too many secrets. Too many vows of silence. Too much left unsaid, and yet, she rested easy knowing that she had the tome now, and she wouldn’t need anyone to reveal anything more. “So you said you had a plan? Do you mean to share it with me?”
Esme winked. “Of course.” She pushed the Púca away and leapt up from the bed to embrace Gwendolyn, and Gwendolyn arched a brow.
“I am curious though… why would you not tell Málik? Do you not trust him?”
“Of course, I trust him!”
“Then why?”
Esme’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Because if I dared, he would never have allowed you to leave with me, and there is something we really must do.”
“Leave? How? They are preparing to arrest me!”
Esme’s smile turned wicked. “Yes, well… Málik is not the only one with friends,” Esme explained. “And sometimes, truly, it is not friends in high places we need. Dress yourself warmly,” she directed. “It’ll not be cozy where we go.”