A Whisper to the North

Chapter XXIII ✠ Bend and Break

Una sat there with her twisted foot in her hand. She couldn't turn her head to see where Gareth had run to. She could only hear the sound of him rustling through the brush to retrieve Gwen and the Mercian soldier's horse. Una sat quietly. Her cheeks still feel flushed. Was it from Gareth, or was sickness setting in? Frey, Yvar, and Una traveled through Autumn's cold rains with little to no warmth.

Una could hear the horses walking back. Gareth approached in front of Una and squatted down, peering into her dark emerald eyes.

"I see what happened now. It's a miracle that you didn't impale yourself on all these broken branches and rocks!" He said, pulling on Gwen's reins.

"Thank you, my lord," Una said, having trouble looking up as the pain is growing stronger.

"You have a bit of an accent, and you are not wearing your veil. Where are you from?" He asked, walking over to the other horse he had pulled behind Gwen.

"Snowdon," Una said honestly.

"Snowdon!?" He walked back and looked down at Una.

Una couldn't turn her head. She just looked at the tall riding boots he had on. The leather was a lighter tan than her own boots. They had strange metal clasps instead of leather laces like Una's had.

"Yes, from the north in Snowdonia, in the mountains," Una said, biting her lip.

"You're a Celt, then!" He exclaimed.

Una couldn't tell if he was scared or intrigued. All Una knew is that people either loved or despised her kingdom. She knew that Mercia would gut Una from mouth to rear if they could, but Wessex was a gray area. Idris, their king, had always been on Una's side, however, but that is not to say that the people feel the same toward her. Sion already said that she was perceived as a monster and demon queen. Other rumors were that she was trapped in the mountains, or she was a helpless damsel. Either one made Una squirm, thinking that people believed such tall tales.

"Yes, and you're an Anglo," Una said back with a smile, laughing, but a surge of pain went through her, and she winced.

"Is your neck hurt, me lady?" He asked softly, bending down again and picking up Una's boots.

"Yes, it's hard to move without a sting," Una replied.

"Well then, riding back won't be kind to you." He said, standing up again.

She watched his legs move away toward Gwen to put her boots up.

"Quite a horse you've got here. Are you a Noble lady?" Gareth asked Una.

Una knew she shouldn't have used her saddle, but it was so comfortable than the other riding saddles.

"To a degree, yes I am," Una said, not wanting to lie.

"I could tell, the craftsmanship of your bridle and saddle compared to the other horse. So why did you steal this other horse?" Gareth said, walking back over to Una.

Una froze. She couldn't think of what to say. It was evident that Gareth was very knowledgeable to Una's detriment.

"I didn't steal him. Some Mercian soldiers beat my friend senseless and killed my other friend's horse. He abandoned us, so we were only left with one horse, so I took this one as a reparation."

"Did your friend kill some of these soldier's first? There is blood all over the horse and all over your reins?"

He was cornering Una, perhaps because she was a Celt from the mountains of the north.

"No, it was me, and I killed only one man after he tried to slice me through," Una said.

Gareth said nothing but walked over to Una and held out his hand.