That earned her a flash of amusement. “Well, you’d be right, then. I have other reasons to keep Amaethon from the throne. But my reasons are my own and will have no effect on the Hunt, I promise.” His face cleared of mirth. “Now, I will ask again. What do you want?”
“Nothing you could grant,” she said.
His calm expression did not waver. “What do you want?”
It was the third time he had asked that. In the tales, questions had to be asked thrice for them to be magical. She looked at the bedroom door.
“To keep my mam safe,” she said.
He nodded, as if that were a reasonable price to pay.
“Be my huntress,” he said, leaning closer. “And I shall give you and your mother a home where you need not fear for her.”
Branwen flinched back. “I do not wish to live at Caer Dathyl.”
“Nor should you. Horrid place.”
She laughed, a snort escaping her before she could silence it.
“If you wish to remain here,” he said, gesturing at the house, “I shall ensure the barwn will leave you be. You will never worry about coin again. Any hunts you undertake will be for your own benefit or that of your neighbors. Never because you have no power over your own life.”
Those last words struck something within her. She knew what it was to scramble and scrounge. She could never recall a time in her life when she was not planning one meal, one day, one week ahead. Her life was a constant shuffling of resources—whether it be coin or food or time.
“And there’s one more thing,” said Gwydion. He cleared his throat. “The boon.”
Branwen frowned. “The boon? That might simply be rumor.”
“It’s the truth,” said Gwydion. “The boon is real. I have my sources. There was a hunter from Dyfed who used his boon to become a noble. Another asked for a magical ship that would never sink. And there was a woman who used it to cure her daughter of the plague. The boon can be anything you want… anything that magic or power can grant.”
Treacherous hope bloomed in Branwen’s heart. It was a dangerous thing to hope. It opened the door to so much pain. “You’re saying… you’re saying the Otherking could cure my mam,” she said softly.
“That’s precisely what I’m saying,” agreed Gwydion. “And if my coin cannot sway you, perhaps that will.”
Branwen swallowed hard. She imagined a future in which Mam was herself again—bright and whole and well. They would never have to worry about coin again. They could travel, or rebuild their home, or simply enjoy the luxury of never having to worry over winter-hungry bellies again. All Branwen had to do was win the Wild Hunt.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’tnotdo this.
“We’re going to die,” said Branwen. “If that happens, there’ll be no one to care for my mam.”
“I’ll write to my sister,” said Gwydion. “If we both end up dead, she will ensure your mother is taken care of.” Gwydion rubbed his thumb across the dragon of his signet ring. “You have my word.”
The Wild Hunt was for kings and monsters, not a trickster and a huntress. But she was no ordinary huntress. She was the only human alive who could pierce the illusion of magic. And Gwydion had a power she had never even heard of. The very trees and plants would answer to him.
Perhaps they could manage this. A hunt to upend her life, a way to find her feet anew.
“If I do this, I’ll need someone to watch over my mam while I’m gone,” she said.
Gwydion nodded. “Is there anyone in the village you trust?”
She considered it. “The tavernkeeper has a few nieces who could use the work.”
Without hesitating, Gwydion pulled his pack between his knees and opened it. Branwen watched, brows raised as he rummaged through the contents. There were clothes, some firesteel, a small purse, and food that would not spoil. They were all of finer make than anything Branwen possessed, but it was all mundane. For a self-proclaimed trickster, she expected… more.
Then he reached into the lining of the bag. It was cleverly hidden, she realized, sewn so that only he could find it. From there, he withdrew a second purse. This one looked to be far fatter.
“Take this,” he said, handing it to Branwen. The weight of it surprised her. Startled, she pulled it open. There was enough coin to keep herself and her mam fed for well over a year.
