by Karen Myers
Good, she thought, he’s becoming more comfortable with the notion of me as a political ally. I need him to think of me as useful.
“Others have tried to bring Gwyn down,” he said. “Most recently, Madog.”
She carefully kept her face from reacting to the jab. He knew that Madog and she had been allies, even lovers before the end. It wasn’t the loss of Madog as a consort that pulled at her, but the defeat of his plans to overthrow Gwyn.
“Each attempt was made in isolation,” she said, reasonably. “That was a mistake.”
She looked at him coolly, careful not to overplay her hand. “I have a better plan.”
“I am listening, my lady.”
Good, she thought. He’s interested. Still the political, scheming, ambitious lord he ever was, but she’d been too young to make proper use of it during their marriage.
“My father has been brought to consider the advantages of a new power in Gwyn’s place and is inclined to support such an ally, as viceroy.” There, she thought, that’s certainly a big enough prize to hook him.
He leaned forward for the first time. “Of the new world? Or of Annwn? Can they be separated? And what of Cernunnos?”
“Lludd has people in place in Gwyn’s court, and plans for more. In Gwyn’s absence, they could make it impossible to hold the great hunt. No hunt, no favors from Cernunnos for Gwyn.”
He considered that.
She continued to make her point. “My father will summon Gwyn soon, to answer for Madog and for… other things. While he is here we have an opportunity, if we should choose to pursue it.”
She could tell that he noticed the use of “we” but he didn’t reject it. Progress.
“How would you like to win this year at Nos Galan Mai, and every year thereafter, until the pack is aged and no new whelps are forthcoming to Gwyn, loser of the contest? It can be done. That alone would be the end of Gwyn, without the other plan.”
“Might even be the end of Annwn,” he said. “It wasn’t always here, before Arawn. I don’t see why we can’t return to that. But what then?” he asked. “Say I take the new world at Lludd’s hands as viceroy. Lludd and Llefelys would still be kings.”
“Even that is not impossible to change. Have you seen my father recently?”
He nodded.
“So you know. A mighty noble allied into his family will be a powerful contender for the succession, once it comes.”
He looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “Not you, not even for that. You’ll need to think of a different payment.”
She took the blow expressionlessly. She would change his mind, later. “There are others you could consider,” she said, evenly.
He sat back, the mulled wine cupped in his hand, and watched her.
“Here’s what I want,” he said. “I want the ways. Is it true that Gwyn’s huntsman can destroy them?”
“That’s what they say and, indeed, I saw him kill one behind me after I used it. Just as importantly, the rock-wights Gwyn is cultivating can create them. And way-finders can control the rock-wights. That’s what Madog did. You have way-finders.” So does my father, she thought.
She could tell by the involuntary flicker of his eyes that this was new information for him. She smiled pleasantly and nodded. Yes, I am valuable, she thought. Listen to me.
“That’s the real power,” he told her. “If we can control the ways, Lludd and Llefelys can’t stand. We can force them out.” He looked at her. “Maybe you’re right about a marriage alliance. It can all be mine.”
She noticed the unconscious “we” he was starting to use now.
“You will find me grateful,” he said, inviting her response.
Time to make some conditions. “I will need your help with the huntsman,” she said, “to bring him under control as a weapon. And you’ll need mine for the rest of it.”
He waved a hand for her to elaborate.
“I want a place that’s not in the public eye and far from any of the ways,” she said.
“Easy enough,” he said. “My fortress of Calubriga will do fine. No one will disturb us in Gaul. Llefelys will never interfere, it’s not his way.”
He looked at her a bit abstractly, like a general planning a war with his aides. “Gwyn won’t travel here alone.”
Creiddylad leaned back in her chair, satisfied. “They can all be neutralized if we plan it right, my lord.”
George fidgeted impatiently in his seat as Ceridwen summarized her findings for Gwyn ap Nudd.
“I can think of a dozen people who could’ve assembled this pleasant surprise,” she told him. “None of them your friends.”
George’s great-grandfather, the Prince of Annwn, had allowed her to barge into his council room at Greenway Court with the two of them in tow, and now he looked over at Angharad. “No one was hurt?”
“We’re fine, my lord,” she said, clearly not wanting to make much of it.
“We were lucky,” George objected. “It’s not the same thing. What about next time? How do we stop it?” He wanted a name, someone to go after immediately.
Gwyn looked at him reprovingly as if he were a child. “You can’t stop it without knowing who did it, or even which faction they belong to. There are spies in every court, though they don’t usually act. You were wise to be cautious.”
Ceridwen said, “Angharad was right—this wasn’t about her. I don’t think that anything in that mix was immediately fatal. It was intended to injure.”
“To tie down my huntsman and keep him from traveling,” Gwyn said.
Ceridwen nodded. “Just so.”
That was too cold-blooded for George. “And why shouldn’t I just take her away out of danger?” he said.
“Because it could be Maelgwn next, or Rhian,” Angharad told him. “You can’t just send us all away.”
Gwyn frowned at the mention of his foster-daughter, his brother’s grandchild.
George’s blood boiled and he leaned forward. “I can’t just wait for the next strike—it might work. There has to be something we can do.”
Gwyn held up his hand to silence him as someone knocked on the door and then opened it.
An elderly man stood hesitantly in the doorway, a stranger to George.
Gwyn rose abruptly. “Geraint, what are you doing here?”
Angharad leaned over to whisper into George’s ear, “That’s Gwyn’s steward from Bryntirion, his original domain under his father Lludd, in western Britain.”
“My lord, I’ve just been sent by Gorwel, the commander of your father’s forces.” At Gwyn’s blank look, he continued. “The ones that are holding the end of the Travelers’ Way and barring passage.”
To continue reading or find out more click here: www.perkunaspress.com/wp/link-king-of-the-may/.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karen Myers is the author of the best-selling novel To Carry the Horn, the first entry in the series The Hounds of Annwn, a contemporary Wild Hunt fantasy set in a fae otherworld version of the Virginia Piedmont. She is currently working on a new fantasy series, The Affinities of Magic, following a young wizard who launches an industrial revolution of magic. More information is available at Perkunas Press.
A graduate of Yale University from Kansas City, Karen has lived with her husband, David Zincavage, in Connecticut, New York, Chicago, California, and more recently in the lovely foxhunting country of Virginia where they followed the activities of the Blue Ridge Hunt, the Old Dominion Hounds, the Ashland Bassets, and the Wolver Beagles.
Karen writes, photographs, and fiddles from her log cabin in the Allegheny mountains of central Pennsylvania. She can be reached at [email protected].
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ALSO BY KAREN MYERS
SHORT TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHA
PTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
GUIDE TO NAMES AND PRONUNCIATIONS
IF YOU LIKE THIS BOOK…
ALSO BY KAREN MYERS
EXCERPT FROM KING OF THE MAY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
