“This means I can command you?” she said.
Cigfa nodded. “Until you deliver it to your lord. Whoever that might be.” Her eyes flicked between Gwydion and Pryderi.
Branwen took a step forward, holding out the ring. Maybe she was not so powerless as she thought. She could command Annwvyn’s champion—at least for the moment. “Those hands. Set them on the ground.”
Cigfa tilted her head. Branwen expected her to argue, but the champion of Annwvyn merely reached down and began to untie her morbid trophies.
“Pryderi, add those rings to the ones we have,” said Branwen. Perhaps it was wrong to steal those rings, but they had been taken already. And all this fear, all this fighting, it could not be for nothing.If Branwen could wrest a victory from this, then perhaps everything would be worth it.
She might belong to a king, but she would still have the boon.
Pryderi looked a little green as he pulled each ring free. They went into the pouch with the other rings.
Still holding Cigfa’s signet, Branwen said, “I command you, Cigfa of Annwvyn. You will return to camp and remain there until the Hunt is ended.”
“You could command her to find your brooch,” murmured Pryderi.
Branwen shook her head. “No. I won’t trust her with that. The folk—they’re used to twisting words. If I ask her to find my brooch, she would. She’d also likely whisper its location to every raven, every songbird, and every magical creature she could find.”
Cigfa beamed. “Lovely and intelligent. I hope whoever finds your ring understands what a prize you are.”
“She is not a prize,” said Gwydion hotly. When Branwen met his eyes, he looked away. Shame flickered across his face.Guilty, Branwen thought.He feels guilty for bringing us both here.But this was not his fault, and she yearned to tell him so.
Cigfa stood. “I will do as you command,” she said to Branwen. She turned west.
Before she could go, Gwydion spoke. “That was too easy,” he said. “Ask her what she doesn’t wish to tell you.”
Branwen shot Gwydion a sharp look. “What?”
“Trust me,” he said. “Someone like that only obeys orders if they want to, fealty or not.”
Branwen stepped in Cigfa’s path. The other woman was shorter, with that gleaming afanc armor and dark sea-green eyes. She was so beautiful that Branwen could only look at her for brief moments before she had to glance away. “What are you hiding?” she asked quietly.
Cigfa’s eyes glittered. “Many things.”
“What are you hiding right now?” said Branwen. Perhaps if she was more specific with her commands. “What do you not wish us to find?”
The corner of Cigfa’s lip curled. Then she reached for a chain around her throat. She pulled it free, and with it came a heavy ring. It was crafted of gold and bore the signet of a dragon and seahorse.
Branwen drew in a sharp breath; Gwydion took half a step forward, his fingers outstretched. Pryderi made a strangled noise. “That’s—that is my father’s ring.”
“I tracked it,” said Cigfa. “As my king bade. And I was to bring it to him.” There was a low note of pride in her voice. “Arawn trusted only me to do so.”
“Does that ring hold the same power as the others?” asked Branwen.
“Yes,” said Cigfa.
Pryderi sounded appalled. “You mean… you mean that the kings trade power every five years. They do so still?”
“Yes,” said Cigfa. “No. Sometimes. Regardless of who holds the fealty, nothing changes in the kingdoms. Pwyll and Arawn would never harm each other. No one even knows the difference. It is whythe Hunt matters little to the balance of power. One king will never move against another.”
Branwen’s mouth felt too dry. That ring was not simply a ring. Not in this hunt. It was a weapon far more powerful than anything she could have ever dreamed. It was a crown, an army. It was the fealty and command of a throne.
It was power. So much power.
“Give it to me,” said Branwen.
Cigfa unclasped the chain around her throat and held out the golden ring.
