It was a few moments before Gwen realized that Isolde waited for an answer. What was Gwen supposed to say? All capacity for speech had fled her like heat through the open door. She clutched at her shirt, where the locket Isolde had given her lay against her chest. She had brought it on this trip, for no reason she could understand herself. Had it drawn Isolde here?
“Gwen? Who is it?” Ada’s sharp voice shook Gwen from her stunned state. Anger flooded her, anger at Isolde for meddling in Gwen’s life in the human world where her mother didn’t belong.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Gwen hissed. “Go back to the Otherworld. Leave me alone.”
Isolde closed her eyes with slow, sorrowful resignation, as if she had both expected and feared Gwen’s response. Her shoulders trembled with shivers from the cold.
“Gwen?” Alan’s voice drifted from the living room, and footsteps thumped across the floor.
“Quick! You have to leave.” Gwen started to shut the door in Isolde’s crestfallen face before her father could see, but when Isolde’s eyes flickered to look past her shoulder, she knew she was too late.
“Alan,” Isolde breathed in a throaty voice. Her hands trembled.
Gwen sighed and, bowing to the inevitable, opened the door wide. She looked at her father, who gazed at the mother of his only child for the first time in twenty years. Gwen didn’t know how to interpret his look. Certainly, he knew who Isolde was. There was recognition, and some confusion—why was Isolde here, anyway?—and perhaps some old feelings being stirred. Gwen didn’t want to think about that.
“Dad,” she said loudly enough to break the long gazes. “This is Isolde. If you remember.”
“I remember.” Alan frowned and looked at Gwen. “Why is she here? Now?”
Gwen shrugged. Alan waved Isolde inside.
“Come out of the cold, at least,” he said. “No point heating the great outdoors.”
Isolde’s skirts swished over the threshold and her face was awash with relief. Gwen pursed her lips. She didn’t know where this was going, but she didn’t like it, not one bit.
After the door closed, Gwen asked, “Why are you here, Isolde?”
Isolde pressed shaking hands over her skirts to smooth them, but before she could speak, Ada entered the hallway.
“Who is this?” she asked. Her sharp eyes raked over Isolde and took in every detail of her outlandish ballgown and disheveled appearance. Gwen looked at her father in panic.
Alan visibly gathered his thoughts, then tore his eyes off Isolde and turned to Ada.
“This is Gwen’s biological mother,” he said firmly. Ada’s penciled eyebrows rose toward the hairline of her tightly curled gray hair. Alan continued, “They were recently acquainted, through unusual circumstances. We didn’t tell you, because it’s still a rather delicate matter.”
Ada nodded crisply.
“Of course. Quite. It’s late for an old woman like me, and I have a new book that is calling my name. I shall retire early. Please help yourself to tea.” With a regal nod to Isolde, a pat on Alan’s arm, and a half-smile for Gwen, Ada climbed the stairs.
No one spoke until Ada had vanished from sight and the door to her bedroom clicked shut. Gwen gave a despairing look at her father, who waved to the living room.
“I think we all need to sit down,” he said faintly, the fortitude he’d shown in front of Ada fading. Isolde nodded and swept ahead of them as if she were in her castle. Gwen rolled her eyes.
Alan gave Gwen a swift, one-armed hug before he followed Isolde into the living room. Isolde picked up a figurine of a china statue of a shepherd from the side table but put it down without much interest. She sat and arranged her skirts in a fussy way that didn’t completely hide her discomfort. It was an odd look on one who was always so confident.
Gwen sat across from her in an armchair by the fireplace. Alan hesitated, then sat gingerly on the other end of the couch from Isolde.
“You still haven’t answered my question, Isolde,” Gwen said. Isolde’s intrusion into her life had her rattled and in no mood to be nice, especially not now that Isolde was on Gwen’s territory. Gwen found that she liked the power it gave her—or, at least, the lack of fear that she felt in Isolde’s realm. “Why are you here?”
“Gwen,” Alan said. “Give her a minute.”
“No, she’s right,” Isolde said with a brief glance at Alan. She looked quickly away again and focused on the china shepherd. “This visit is most—unexpected.”
“More like impossible,” Gwen said. “Or should be. How did you get through? Do you have another locket you’ve been hiding? Or did you come through a broken portal, you and the wolves?”
“A ragged portal was open in the archway. The old ways are open once more. I promise, I have no other way to pass between the worlds.” In her earnestness, Isolde finally looked up and met Gwen’s eyes. Something had disappeared from them, some fire or light that used to drive Isolde had evaporated and left her looking tired and old. She let out a breath that was not quite a laugh. “Would you believe this is the first time I’ve been in the human world since―” Isolde paused, and her eyes flickered to Alan. “For twenty years.”
“Yes, I believe it,” said Gwen. “You always sent Corann to do your dirty work here.”
At the sound of Corann’s name, Isolde flinched, and a spasm crossed her face.
“He is the reason I’m here,” she said, with the first scrap of passion she had shown this evening. “He betrayed me.”
Gwen frowned in puzzlement.
“I thought—you two seemed like a thing, that’s all.” At Isolde’s questioning look, Gwen clarified. “An item? Together?” She refused to say the word “lovers,” not to describe her mother, and not in front of her dad. Isolde’s face darkened.
“Yes, he was my paramour.” She cast another furtive glance at Alan, who sat silently with his fingers steepled. “I trusted him with the deepest secrets of the realm. He repaid me with usurpation of my throne. I am―” She swallowed. “No longer queen of the Velvet Woods.”
“Oh.” Gwen sat back in her armchair and digested this news. Isolde was no longer the queen. What did that mean for the realm? Gwen didn’t trust Corann as far as she could throw him, even before his coup d’état. Would he reinstate the kidnappings that Isolde used to rely on? Gwen wouldn’t put it past him. She focused on Isolde’s anguished face. “How did he take over? Did you just let him? Don’t you have any guards?”
Isolde’s mouth grew thin in a furious line.
“He went behind my back, spoke to all my courtiers, swayed them to his arguments. Not one stood up for me at the crucial juncture.”
“And what were his arguments?”
“He wanted to set up the defenses of the realm to avoid relying on the restoration spell.” Isolde tossed her head. “He thought that my health was compromised because of it, and that the spell wouldn’t last much longer.”
“Is it true?” Gwen asked. “The restoration spell was only supposed to be a temporary fix, as far as I understand.”
Isolde waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.
“I was forming plans to replace it, but there was no rush. No rush at all. My health has never been better.” Isolde clasped her hands in her lap tightly, which did not entirely hide their trembling, nor did the dim light mask the pallor of her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter now. That meddling green man Loniel had the gall to confront me after I left the castle. Blamed me for allowing the usurpation while the realm was under the restoration spell.” Isolde looked away from Gwen and her fingers twisted in her lap in an oddly nervous fidget. “He said the barrier between the worlds is falling apart because of it.”
Even though Gwen didn’t know what Loniel had meant, her stomach still dropped. The portal in the field crossed her mind. Aidan had also called yesterday to describe his encounter with Otherworld wolves. What was happening? Why were Gwen’s worlds colliding?
Isolde straightened.
“None of this would
have happened without Corann’s betrayal. I suppose I could have adjusted the defenses earlier, but there was really no rush.”
This was the most admission of guilt that Gwen expected from Isolde.
“And,” Isolde continued. “He should know better. His taking power is against the natural order. Corann was not my heir.”
“Come on, Isolde.” Gwen sighed in exasperation. It felt safer talking to Isolde this way when Gwen was in her own world. “I know the Breenan function under absolute monarchies, but there are lots of other ways to set up a government.”
Isolde frowned.
“You clearly do not understand the nature of my rule. I am connected to the realm with ties of magic, as have been those in my family for generations. We have grown with the realm, and the realm has flourished under us. Now, my lineage is the only one capable of governing the Velvet Woods in its current form. The form of magic my family wields, through long use and association, is now the only form capable.” Isolde smoothed her skirts with deliberation. “Not only that, but an heir must be declared by magical means.”
Alan spoke then, after silently regarding their conversation.
“You still haven’t answered Gwen’s question,” he said mildly. “Why are you here?”
“And who’s this ‘heir?’” Gwen said. “Why aren’t they stepping up? If you’re so powerless, get them to put Corann in his place. Surely your court would back your true heir.”
Both Isolde and Alan stared at Gwen, her father with dawning comprehension and horror, Isolde with a look of consideration. There was silence for a moment. Isolde spoke next.
“You are my heir, Gwendolyn.”
Chapter 4
Gwen stared at Isolde. What did she mean, Gwen was her heir? It was an absurd statement.
“What are you talking about?” Gwen said in a repressive tone, hoping to inject some common sense into the conversation. “Of course I’m not your heir. I’m half-human, for pity’s sake. And you haven’t even acknowledged that I exist to any Breenan.”
“And yet, I performed the magic that bound you to the role,” Isolde said quietly. “After I found out that you had magic. When I gave you the locket, do you remember the incantation? You are my daughter, after all. My only child.”
“Daughter by blood only,” Gwen snapped.
“But that is the important link, in this matter. In your veins runs the magic that will allow you to bind to the realm and bend it to your will—tree, earth, person, animal. The portals are opening due to the miscast restoration spell, but with your ascension, a new regime will begin and the worlds will heal.” Isolde nodded as if the matter were already decided. “Once you are queen and assume the throne of the realm, you may choose the line of defense you think is best. I would be happy to reside in the castle and guide you in this role.”
Gwen had only let Isolde speak for so long because she was speechless. Isolde’s certainty prodded her into speech.
“Why the hell would I become queen of the Velvet Woods?” Gwen shook her head and looked to her father. He looked as flabbergasted as she felt.
Isolde looked confused.
“It is no small thing to be queen. While the role comes with responsibilities, it is true, there are many benefits. As the head of the realm, you have the pick of the finest dresses, the most sumptuous furs, food to envy―”
“Stop right there.” Gwen put up her hand. “I don’t care about any of that. I don’t want to live in the Otherworld. I have a life I love right here, among my people.”
“The Breenan are your people, too,” Isolde said gently. “And without an appropriately appointed ruler of the correct bloodline, those people will suffer greatly once the realm falls apart.”
“This is insane,” Alan said with heat. He perched on the edge of the couch and leaned toward Isolde to emphasize his point. “Gwen has no need to be bound to a responsibility like that, in a world where she doesn’t belong.”
“It’s already done,” Isolde said flatly.
“You have no idea who Gwen is.” Alan stood, his voice raised. Gwen had never seen her mild-mannered father so impassioned, so heated. His fury radiated off him. “You have no idea what it’s like to have a daughter. And that was your choice, if you remember. You gave up your claim nineteen years ago. You have no right to ask anything of Gwen.”
Isolde visibly deflated. Even through her shock and anger, Gwen was astonished at the sight. Isolde put her head in her hands.
“I know,” she said quietly to the floor. “Oh, I know. I wouldn’t ask this if there were any other way.” She looked up at Gwen, unshed tears gathered in her eyes. “But I have no other children, although not for lack of trying. My people will suffer if I don’t provide for them, by drought, famine, war. In a way, I am a mother to them all, and I must take care of them.”
The hard knot in Gwen’s stomach only tightened with Isolde’s words.
“Pretty words. But you could have taken better care of your people by changing your defenses after the restoration spell.” Gwen’s voice rose. “Why is it that I have to fix your problem? Who’s the mother here?”
Isolde flinched, but did not answer. Gwen stood and strode to the window, where she flicked the curtains open. A lone streetlight lit the quiet street before her, and trees swayed in the gathering wind.
Gwen didn’t know what to think. Her first instinct was to open a portal and push Isolde through it, back to the Otherworld, but the memory of the forest people of Isolde’s realm stayed her hand. She had met them on her last foray into the Otherworld. They had dealt with famine and displacement then, too, and Gwen’s heart contracted with the memory of the orphaned children she had given bread to, and the young refugee family they had met on the road. With a start, she recalled Loniel’s words to her as she left the Otherworld in the summer: “Some would say that you are a natural choice for the succession.” Should she have been expecting this thunderbolt from Isolde? Whenever the Otherworld was involved, Gwen’s life grew more complicated.
She stared out of the diamond shapes of the leaded glass window, not truly seeing the dim street before her eyes. The room was silent behind her, but she didn’t spare any attention for her parents. Her thoughts were disjointed, unfocused—they were like frenzied butterflies in a cage. She felt trapped, locked in a room with no escape. Once again, the weight of responsibility pressed down on her, mercilessly crushing her shoulders to the ground. Her mind scrambled for solutions, but nothing presented itself, nothing except the terrible option Isolde had brought with her.
“Gwen.” Alan’s voice broke the silence and jarred her mind back to the current situation. “I’d like to speak with you in private, please. Kitchen.”
Gwen turned and nodded, then followed her father out of the room. Isolde stared at the china shepherd.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said without preamble once they had reached the sanctity of the kitchen, with its copper pans hanging above the stove and a large wooden clock ticking quietly above the fridge. “I can see it in your face. You want to fix this.”
“I don’t want to do anything. But sometimes we can’t do what we want.”
Her father held her shoulders firmly.
“Listen to me, Gwen. You have no obligation to help Isolde, no responsibility, nothing. This is entirely on her. You don’t have to do anything for her, nothing at all.”
“But that’s just it,” Gwen said with a frown. “She’s got herself in such a mess that it’s not about her anymore. Trust me, I have no desire to be Isolde’s heir, live in the Otherworld, whatever she’s going on about.” Gwen put her hands gently on her father’s wrists. “But how could I live with myself if a whole realm’s worth of people suffered, maybe died, and I could have done something to save them?”
Her father’s face contorted in anguish, but he said nothing in reply. Gwen managed to tweak her mouth into a convincing half-smile before she spoke.
“Nothing has to be decided tonight. Let’s sleep on it. I be
t there’s a way around all this that we can’t see yet.”
Gwen didn’t believe her own words in the slightest, but she had to say something to her father. To her relief, he brightened marginally.
“You’re right, nothing is done yet, nothing is written in stone. We will figure this out.” Alan gave a great sigh and removed his hands to scrub his face. Gwen’s shoulders missed their solid weight. “I know you want to help these people. But I’ll be damned if I see my daughter trapped in a life she doesn’t want. Whatever I can do, however I can help, I will.”
Gwen hugged him fiercely, and he squeezed her back. Gwen finally straightened.
“What do we do with her?” She jerked her head toward the living room.
“I guess she’ll have to stay here. It doesn’t sound like she has anywhere to go in the Otherworld.”
“And no money to pay for a hotel room.”
Alan chuckled weakly.
“I’ll ask Ada.”
“She can have my bed, if Aunty Ada doesn’t mind me sleeping on the couch,” said Gwen. “I don’t want her put to any trouble, and since I’m the reason Isolde’s here…”
“Gwen―”
“I know, I know, it’s not my fault.”
Alan smiled wanly and ushered her into the living room while he moved toward the hallway.
Isolde’s hands were in her lap and she stared at them blankly. At Gwen’s approaching footsteps she stiffened but did not look up.
“Have you made your decision, Gwendolyn?” Isolde said quietly.
“No,” said Gwen. “Dad’s asking if you can stay for the night.”
“Thank you.” The relief in Isolde’s voice was only partially masked by her usual collected tone. She hesitated a moment, then said, “I don’t understand your hesitation, Gwendolyn. Many would give away their magic for a chance to be queen of the Velvet Woods.”
“So, let them.”
“You know I cannot. It really is an exalted life—I’m sure you would enjoy it. I cannot fathom your dolorous mood at the news.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
Breenan Series Box Set Page 50