by Aaron Kite
He watched her intently as she spoke, and after a while his confused look became one of thoughtful understanding, and he seemed to nod to himself. Then, Gwen saw the tiniest amount of suspicion cross his face, and his brow furrowed.
“You kissed me,” he accused. “Is this some sort of trick? Why would you have kissed me if you didn’t want me dead? And you had a knife, just now! What exactly were you planning on doing with that?”
Gwen bridled at the implication at first, but quickly realized how strange and unlikely things might appear from his perspective. This development was about the last thing she’d been expecting; he’d likely been taken completely by surprise as well, and was merely being cautious. Understandable, really.
“When you thought you’d killed me,” she asked, “did it feel like you’d be able to live with yourself, Gavin?” She took a breath. “I had the knife because, because I….”
She shrugged.
Gavin appeared to consider that. “And the kiss? Why would you kiss me if—”
“I didn’t want to kiss you. Well, actually, I suppose that’s not exactly true. It was a compulsion, part of that geis sphere I mentioned. It took effect when we were wed. It, uh,” Gwen looked away a moment, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “It made me really, really want to.”
She watched him raise a brow to that, consider her, and then he grinned like sun after a storm. In that moment, Gwen understood why Gavin’s grin had become the talk of the castle.
“You know, It occurs to me to wonder if I might have been hit with something similar,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Honestly, ever since I laid eyes on you, I’ve really, really wanted to kiss you as well.”
Gwen felt her cheeks redden further. Then she remembered something, and her eyes narrowed.
“Oh, and what would your girlfriend think?” she asked tartly.
Somehow, Gavin managed to appear even more bewildered than he had just a few short minutes ago.
“What?”
“Your father already mentioned the girlfriend you left back home,” she said, realizing she sounded accusatory. “He told my father and me all about it. That someone special you are in love with back in Rhegar? What would she—”
“Gwenwyn?” he interrupted, already shaking his head. “Do you have a boyfriend? A special someone?”
“Well no, obviously,” she said, giving him a look. “I can’t, because I’m... I—”
“You’re like me,” Gavin said, lowering himself into a crouch before her, shaking his head once again. “No, there’s no girlfriend back home. My father is a wretch, and a liar. A waste of skin. Like I said before, he brought me here to kill you. I found out about his plans a long time ago. He became rather upset I wasn’t willing to play along with his grand scheme. Eventually he had to put me under a wish compulsion just to keep me manageable. I’ve been trying to get around it for years.” Gavin took a quick breath before continuing. “Even though I was bound to do exactly as he wished, I tried everything I could think of to confound his plans. Wearing my riding leathers when we first met, acting aloof, refusing to look at you, all so you might feel uneasy, pressure your father into calling the wedding off, or perhaps choose to run away rather than acquiesce to an arranged marriage.”
Gwen sat there, stunned. It was almost as if they’d been leading identical lives!
“So, if you were trying to get around your compulsion, why was it that when I wished that—”
“Whoa, whoa, careful! Please!” he said quickly, holding his hands out toward her. “Don’t use that word, I can tell it’s still active. I literally have to do what my father wishes.”
“But, I’m not your father!”
“Yes, but last night he was in his cups, celebrating. I don’t think he was thinking too clearly. He called me to his quarters late last night and rather drunkenly went over his plan — told me he wished for me to go through the wedding ceremony without fuss, and once that was done I should bring you back to the bedroom with all haste, and, uh—” Gavin flushed. “He told me I should do the sort of thing brides wish for their husbands to do on their wedding night.” He took a slow, careful breath. “I think he meant it as a joke, or to torture me further, but he actually used the word wish. I don’t know if he knew he’d said it or not, but I could feel it! So, I figured if I got you to wish for something—”
“Wait, you were trying to get me to wish to never see you again!”
He nodded somberly. “I knew if you said it, I’d be able to leave the castle. I’d grab my horse and ride somewhere, someplace far away, where no-one would find me. In truth, I’d probably just end up dying in the forest; I can’t go very long without the herb. I tried giving it up once, but just that once. It was pretty awful.” Gavin gave her a look. “But at least you’d still be alive. I mean, you didn’t deserve to die.”
Gwen thought about how desperately, how earnestly he’d tried getting her to send him away. And all that time, attempting to convince her, trying to coax her into saying those words out loud, he knew he risked his own life.
She couldn’t even describe the thoughts and feelings that warred for her attention all of a sudden.
“However, the problem right now is that we’ve only solved half the puzzle,” he said, running his fingers through his hair in a way she was beginning to find familiar. “I’m still under my father’s control; I can sense it. I still have to do as he wishes, unfortunately. I probably have to do what you wish as well, at least for the moment. Right now I just need you to avoid saying the word wish to me until we can figure out some way around this compulsion.”
“Like if I were to say to you: I wish for you to ignore the wish compulsion?” she asked.
“Don’t—” he began, his arms raised as if trying to shield himself. Then he gaped and stared at his outstretched arms as though they were completely unfamiliar. His expression changed from one of anxiety to bafflement, then surprise, and finally wonder.
“Did that do it?” Gwen asked, feeling faintly smug.
“It’s...gone!” he gasped, staring at Gwen as though she’d just performed a miracle.
The look of utter astonishment on Gavin’s face was enough to cause Gwen to collapse back into her chair in another fit of giggling. It felt good to laugh, she realized. She hadn’t laughed about anything in such a long time.
Gavin remained crouched on his heels a few feet away from her. He inspected his arms periodically, as though there was something new and surprising about them. Then he’d look at her and smile good-naturedly, and Gwen suspected he was mere moments away from laughing as well.
Then, suddenly, his expression became serious. He stood up.
“My father has people watching this room. Your father might as well, actually. We’re blind to what might be waiting for us, but we probably have the element of surprise. We’re going to need to come up with some sort of a plan. He glanced around the room. “Likely our only assets are here with us, whatever we can find and make use of.”
“Rhosyn,” she said.
He looked over to her, a question on his face.
“My lady-in-waiting. She’s being held hostage to ensure I cooperate.”
“Just one more thing we need to remedy,” he said. “Do you know where she’s being kept?”
“No, but I had a thought during the ceremony. We could leverage the fact we’re now king and queen to our advantage, use that power. I don’t think either of our fathers counted on that. Or this.” She gestured to indicate them both.
“I’ll bet they didn’t,” he said, pacing to one side, looking thoughtful. “The first thing we’re going to have to do is gain the support of some strong arms, and-”
There were many ways that they could go about this whole thing, she realized. Gwen herself had already come up with one or two notions of how they might be able to work this situation to their advantage. Wi
th both their fathers being so secretive about their respective plans, the two of them would definitely have the element of surprise. They had time to come up with something, she knew.
But as for right now....
Gwen realized that she was watching Gavin intently as he paced in front of her. He was animatedly talking over some of the possibilities they could pursue, staring through the floor as he spoke, seemingly lost in thought.
She began peeling off her gloves.
“—are loyal to the Crown, not my father,” he said, wagging a finger excitedly. “Which could help us, of course. The real problem is that the only orders Father’s knights will accept are written ones. I believe that’s how my father wished to control me — how he’d continue to rule once he’d made me king. I was kept away from books of any sort, and forbidden to read them, so that when it came to laws—”
“Gavin?” Gwen said softly.
“—he’d be the only one who could pass them, because I can’t write.” He looked at her and she saw realization dawn. “But you can write! And because we’re king and queen now, our word is law… which means we—”
“We’ll figure it out, Gavin. We have time,” Gwen said, slowly rising from her chair.
“Yes, but once we figure out how we can go about this, we’ll—”
“Gavin?” she repeated quietly.
“Hmmm?” he asked distractedly, turning to face her.
Once he actually saw her, he no longer looked distracted in the slightest. If anything, he looked almost exactly the way he had when he was standing by the altar, wide-eyed and staring.
She closed the distance between them in a few unhurried steps. By the time she’d stopped, Gwen was standing about a foot away from him with one hand raised in front of her, her palm facing him, her fingers spread. She looked him directly in the eye at first, and then moved her gaze down to his own hand, saying nothing.
The two of them simply stood there, facing one another.
Swallowing hard, Gavin slowly raised his own hand up. Then, spying the white officer’s glove he still wore, he quickly shed it before starting the whole process over...gradually raising his arm and lifting his hand up, fingers spread, mirroring her own gesture.
They stayed like that a few moments, hands inches apart. Gwen felt her lower lip begin to tremble, and she was filled with a strange mix of uncertainty, nervousness, and anticipation all at once.
Gwen slowly eased her hand forward, towards his, noting that Gavin’s own hands were shaking slightly.
Carefully, delicately, their fingertips touched.
And all of the butterflies in Gwen’s entire world took flight all at once.
Closing her eyes, Gwen felt fresh tears spilling down her cheek, and some part of her realized she was smiling. Her shoulders shook slightly, and she felt almost like she was laughing and crying at the same time.
Contact. The touch of another. And not a fleeting touch, either, but gentle yet insistent, almost as if to reassure her that this feeling wasn’t going anywhere. Actual warmth under her fingertips — it was a feeling that was almost too good to be real. She savored it as though it might disappear any second.
Tiny shivers scurried back and forth along her shoulders, and she found it difficult to keep the trembling from reaching her arms.
She opened her eyes to look at Gavin. Mouth half open, he was staring at their fingertips pressing together as though enraptured by it. The beginnings of tears had begun welling up in the corners of his eyes as well.
Her father’s plans, his father’s plans, the various plans the two of them would have to come up with...none of it mattered in that moment. Everything else in the whole world dissolved into nothingness next to one, simple truth.
He was like her.
They could touch.
There was time, she knew. The Goddess of Wisdom wasn’t blind after all — She’d known exactly what She’d been doing. Eirene had indeed blessed them both, blessed this union. All of the talking and planning they had to do could wait for a little while. Right at this particular moment, however, she was alone in a room with someone who couldn’t be hurt by her poisonous nature, possibly the only other person in the entire world. Someone who could perhaps understand what she’d gone through her whole life, and in ways nobody else possibly could.
Her life wasn’t a tragedy at all, she realized. It was a fairy tale.
And she had found her prince.
They both stood there for several long minutes, touching fingertips, marvelling at the feel of it.
Gwen raised her other hand, and Gavin matched her actions, the fingertips of their other hands now touching as well.
“That compulsion, the one your father put on you,” she whispered. “The wish compulsion. Are you sure it’s completely gone?”
“I’m sure,” he said, his tone slightly husky.
“Husband?” she said, smiling shyly, slipping her fingers between his and clasping his hand firmly but tenderly. “I wish for you to kiss me.”
For a second it appeared as though he could barely draw breath, and he seemed startled. Then, after a few moments, he smiled down at her, and Gwen knew she’d devote every waking moment doing whatever was necessary in order to see that smile again and again.
“Well,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper, “perhaps there might be some traces of it still hanging around.”
He slowly tilted his head towards her, slow enough to make her ache.
Their lips touched.
It was tiny earthquakes in her tummy, in her fingers, all over. It was like nothing she’d ever dared to dream before. It was pure, breathtaking joy.
When the kiss finally ended, Gwen was engulfed by a lingering sense of wonder, and quickly found herself very much looking forward to his next kiss. Then, realizing that she needn’t wait for him to do it, she kissed him right back.
It was then she discovered she could kiss while smiling, and that was wonderful too.
And that night, though they’d scarcely spoken a word to each other until that day, the two of them made a great many of their heart’s desires come true.
Chapter 23
Their plan was so simple it seemed ridiculous.
Gwen continued to hover near the bedroom door, feeling a touch nervous. A few minutes ago she’d sent Faryl, one of Gavin’s knights who had been standing guard, running down the hallways calling for a healer at the top of his lungs. Alwyn would learn of it shortly. If Bryn also had people watching their room, as both of them suspected he did, then it probably wouldn’t take long for him to make an appearance as well.
The prospect of seeing her father was both exciting and terrifying.
She briefly wondered how Gavin was making out with his side of things, but refused to allow herself to become anxious about it. There likely wasn’t anything to be worried about at this point; if things had gone wrong on his end she’d have heard about it by now. If things had gone as planned, however, then it was mostly over anyway.
“Gwenwyn?” she heard her father call loudly through the door just before he rapped his knuckles loudly against it. “Daughter? What is the matter? Is everyone okay? I’ve brought a healer and his assistants. I’d heard that something terrible had happened!”
She rubbed her eyes thoroughly to make it appear she’d been crying, briefly inspecting her work in the reflection of a nearby silver bowl. Then, after giving the lone figure sitting beside the bed a quick nod and a reassuring smile, Gwen slowly opened the door and walked out of the room, her head bowed.
Her father stood in the antechamber with a small retinue of healers, as well as a few important-looking advisers hovering on the perimeter. Bryn’s expression was both alarmed and solemn, oozing paternal concern. If Gwen didn’t know her father as well as she did, a part of her might have actually believed he was worried about her, or cared.
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br /> Upon seeing her, Bryn looked the tiniest bit relieved, at which point he barked orders to his retinue.
“Quickly, inside! What are you just standing around for?” Bryn roared, gesturing at the open door. “Something must be wrong with Prince Gavin; attend him!”
The small group of healers hurried inside, leaving Bryn and Gwen standing in the antechamber. He waved away the remainder of those he’d brought with him angrily.
“Speak, Daughter,” he said, once everyone else was out of earshot.
“What would you have me say?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
Bryn chuckled. “That’s good enough. Well then, the deed is done. You’ve kissed him. You’ll do and say nothing more unless I tell you, Gwenwyn, if you know what’s good for you.”
Gwen turned away from him, head still bowed, hoping she looked morose and defeated. As she had guessed, it didn’t take him long to start gloating.
“Well, in addition to being newly widowed, you’re now Queen, Daughter!” he said, his tone both amused and contemptuous. “How does it feel? You really should try to enjoy it while it lasts. We’ll be attending service tomorrow, you and I, and if the Goddess doesn’t approve of your actions, yours could be the shortest reign in history.”
She continued to stand there, keeping her face as impassive as she could.
“Of course, what you did may not be criminal, and you might continue to receive Her blessings. I’ve got plans for that eventuality as well,” he said, quiet laughter in his voice. “Later, once this is all sorted out, I’ll be sure to tell you all about what is going to happen if Eirene still considers you fit to be Queen. You may prefer banishment, now that I think about it.”
A commotion outside the antechamber attracted Bryn’s notice, and he hurriedly resumed his play-acted role of anxious father. Within moments Gavin’s father, Alwyn, burst into the room, leading his own retinue of physicians and servants, his expression almost as panicked and worried as Bryn’s.