Chosen

Chapter Five

Brigham walked up as Alistair was leaving. He didn't bother with pleasantries before shoving a note in my hand. "She said not to leave until you answered," he told me.

"Wait, she said that? That means she's back?" I asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, that's how she sent the note, sir," he said dryly. "Just got back an hour ago."

Gwenyth hadn't been gone twenty-four hours. Kai turned out to be right. I was the first person she sought out. I opened the note while Brigham watched. The ink splotches and lack of words meant she'd written it quickly. It said only, "Dinner tomorrow night? Seven o'clock in my private dining room," and was signed with a "G."

"Tell her that I'll come," I told Brigham. "Or do I need to write it down? Hold on, I'll get some paper."

He held up a hand. "Not necessary. I should be able to remember five words." With a curt nod, he showed himself out.

~***~

I thought about the dinner the whole night and all the next day. It felt like a special occasion, even though Gwenyth had never said it was. I went through all the motions to make myself look nice, washing, shaving, and finding the shirt and pants with the least amount of wrinkles. I studied myself in the mirror before leaving for the palace. I gave a fleeting thought to taking off the medallion hanging around my neck, but I'd worn it since I came. Probably before. Removing it seemed wrong. I left it where it was, but buttoned the collar high enough to cover it.

Nerves took hold on the walk over. "Jitters are perfectly normal before a date," I told myself. I picked up the pace and arrived fifteen minutes early. Brigham was waiting. "Right this way," he said, barely bothering to look in my direction.

The queen's private dining room looked familiar, even though I couldn't remember ever being there before. Gwenyth sat the table and stood when I enter the room. Her dress was blue-green, a mix of sea and sky. It hung around her like a mist, bearing the pale skin of her throat and shoulders. "I'm so glad you came," she breathed, rushing over to take my hands in hers.

I threw a quick glance at Brigham's retreat before answering, "You thought I wouldn't?"

She shrugged. "Things change. It's hard to predict how someone might feel from one day to the next. And you're..."

"I don't change like that." The answer came out of nowhere. I didn't know how I knew, but I'd never been more sure of something. Certainty was rare as of late. I welcomed it with open arms.

Gwenyth's lashes fluttered in surprise. A wide smile spread over her face. "Come and sit," she said, moving the other chair around the table next to hers.

I sat and with her encouragement, filled up my plate with a sampling from everything that on the table. But she didn't eat. She just watched me dig in, and after a few minutes asked, "How has your work been going?"

My stomach flip-flopped. "You mean the poetry?"

She nodded.

I'd given it a few more tries after the first failure but hadn't managed to get anywhere. The truth would have been telling her, "Dismal. Boring. A waste of time." But she looked so interested that I couldn't bear to disappoint her. "Well, it's hard to get back into the swing of things. I wrote a few lines, but there's nothing I would call finished," I said. It was almost the truth. I swept a hunk of meat into my mouth so I wouldn't have to say any more about the poetry. "This is good. What is it?"

"Venison. We're lucky to have good hunters here. Gareth's one of our best. He took down that doe yesterday."

The name "Gareth" didn't jog any memories. I'd probably met him, but I'd never be able to pick him out in a crowd. Another one lost to "the accident." I ripped off a hunk of bread and chewed thoughtfully before saying, "Why's the library such a mess?"