Chapter Text
‘Careful.’
It was the first thing he heard. A voice, sounding amused, and the sensation of water all around him. Except that it was warm water, a hot spring perhaps, or maybe – yes, his arm brushed against porcelain. A bath?
There was skin behind him and he was soothed by it. There was a hand in his hair. It smoothed strands away – all wet – and then there was the sound of running water as it was poured directly over the back of his head. The water made rivulets down the back of his neck, his shoulder, and he heard himself sigh, became aware of the ache in his chest, the huge rise and fall of his breath.
‘Are you with me yet?’
That voice again.
Gwyn asked himself the question, but even as he tried to fumble for an answer, he fell away into nothingness.
*
He was still in the bath when he came to again. This time he knew that only minutes had passed since the last time he’d been awake. He was lying back against Augus. The bathroom swam into view as he blinked his eyes open. The room was tiled, its fixtures looked like stainless steel or chrome.
‘It’s all human make,’ Gwyn said, confused.
‘There you are,’ Augus said.
Augus was naked beneath him and Gwyn tried to face him, but hands kept his head forward, stopped his shoulders from twisting. After everything he’d experienced, he found that he didn’t particularly want to fight Augus now. Not when he was comfortable. Not when the aches and pains of his body were leaving and the water tingled at his skin, bringing warmth and blood circulation to sore joints.
‘It’s the curse of the waterhorse,’ Augus said quietly, and Gwyn could feel Augus look around, felt muscles shift against his back. ‘We crave human comforts. A warm, dry bed. A fireplace or hearth. Blankets and cushions and pillows. No matter how we live in the fae world, no matter how much I loathe the petty hearts and foolish minds of my prey, I find myself in a home similar to their homes.’
‘Is it over?’ Gwyn said. He meant was Augus done with him, he hoped Augus would understand.
‘Not quite,’ Augus said. ‘But the hard part is over. Well, that’s what I’d usually presume, but you’re not quite comfortable with this either, are you?’
Gwyn grimaced and looked at his hands beneath the water. The bath was deep and wide, and down by his feet, plants grew green. A frog watched him from a ceramic shelf further up, its eyes jewelled, its throat vibrating with motion.
‘You’re still disoriented,’ Augus said quietly. ‘It’s normal. It’s normal to feel displaced or upset or distressed. Don’t let it worry you.’
‘It’s that simple?’
‘That’s never simple,’ Augus said, laughing.
Gwyn liked him. It was more than that he was charming. He was svelte and beautiful, no wonder the Raven Prince adored him. He had a way of talking that was…appealing. Gwyn’s cheeks flushed. This was embarrassing, frustrating. He had no time to feel these things. Already, he had to go back to the Court and report to the Oak King. They would wonder where he was.
‘Careful,’ Augus said again.
‘How do you do that?’ Gwyn said, his voice far harder and far less welcome in the space that Augus had created. His voice echoed off tiles, reflected back to him, made him feel ungainly.
‘You tense,’ Augus said. ‘Your back and shoulders in particular. You were relaxed, now you’re not.’
Gwyn huffed a breath and sank deeper into the water and Augus let him. Gwyn didn’t stop until the water met his chin, and then his lower lip. His hair swirled around his ears. He didn’t take moments like this for himself. Baths took too long. Bathing was perfunctory. At the An Fnwy estate he used a shower, out in the woods or on campaign, he used lakes or rivers or even waterfalls. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d soaked in a bath like this.
He looked at his fingers again, raising them. They were pruned, he had no idea how long he’d been in here for. But Augus would have had to have moved him while he was unconscious. Had to have waited for the water to fill. And for all of it, Gwyn was unconscious. It was a long time to be away from himself.
‘Is this normal?’ Gwyn said finally. ‘To have been unconscious for so long?’
‘Mm,’ Augus said. ‘It happens.’
Gwyn was shocked when Augus leaned forwards and rested his nose against the back of his head. Surprised when fingers curled around his shoulder, when Augus’ other hand snuck up and rested on his belly. It wasn’t…it didn’t feel right. Not that it was unwelcome, but Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time…
There just hadn’t been a time in his life quite like this.
‘What are you doing?’ Gwyn said.
‘Waiting,’ Augus said, ‘to make sure you’re hale. You don’t have to worry, Gwyn. It’s a normal part of the process. I’ll let you know when it’s all over.’
Gwyn was starting to feel sleepy, his eyelids felt heavy, his breathing slowed. The arms around him tightened and Gwyn wanted to preserve this. He knew – worst of all – that he would want it again, which wouldn’t be possible.
What would the rest of the Seelie say if they saw him like this? If they knew?
‘Stop thinking, Gwyn,’ Augus said, his voice low. ‘Just stop.’
‘I can’t,’ Gwyn said.
‘Then talk to me.’
‘Is my heartsong really gone?’
‘It’s gone,’ Augus said. ‘You can’t tell?’
Gwyn could tell. Already the sensation of triumph felt more like a relic, than something that lived in the centre of his being. He squeezed his eyes shut and shivered. No one would be happy with him. That he would do what he did, and then he’d return and his heartsong would be gone. But it had to go. He wouldn’t have survived it. Still, a heaviness rocked through him. It had been a stable companion, it had given him confidence in the field, it had allowed him to look at a battle and know that he had a higher than average chance of winning, because his heartsong allowed him to see pathways to triumph and victory that he might not see otherwise.
He risked losing more battles now. More fae would die.
He blinked when Augus pulled him up so that his head was out of the water again. He thought they were getting out, but instead he felt lips move on the side of his neck. It was startlingly intimate, and Augus’ mouth was clever. Lips dragging across his wet skin, across his jaw. Teeth brushed, the sharp points of canines contrasting against humid breath and a hot tongue. Gwyn swallowed, felt his mind beginning to drift. He wanted to ask questions. Why would Augus do that? What was the point of this part?
He made a small sound when Augus sucked at the sensitive juncture of neck and shoulder, and Augus hummed lazily, happily. It was like the sound a lover might make as they were waking up. Not that Gwyn knew what people sounded like in those situations. But if he had to imagine it…
In the background, there was a small part of him that was afraid. He didn’t want to survive the crimes he’d committed and yet now that his heartsong was gone, he knew he would survive. He would live.
He wasn’t sure if the life he saw stretched ahead of him was worth living, at least…not as it was.
He sighed, his mind drifted, and he let it. The real world was intimidating, and Gwyn didn’t want to look at it. Not now. Besides, if he concentrated very hard, perhaps he could remember the way this felt for centuries to come, and recall it in his darker moments.
*
Augus didn’t talk again for some time. Not when Gwyn sat up and Augus helped him out of the bath (even though Gwyn shied away from the help, it turned out the steadying presence was…somewhat helpful.) He didn’t speak once he offered Gwyn his clothes which were now clean of almost all blood. Gwyn stared at the fabric. When had Augus had time to do this? He could still scent the deaths of fae on it, and it felt strange to put it on.
Then, instead of leading him to the front of his house, Augus led him to a room that had bookshelves filled with books, an overstuffed sofa, a table with two chairs. He led Gwyn over to the table, gestured for him to sit down and pursed his lips, looking him over critically.
‘Stay there,’ Augus said finally.
Gwyn watched him leave, and then looked down at the wood of the table. It was fine-grained, very expensive. The kind of item that his father might like. Looking closer at the items in the room, Gwyn realised everything was carefully made and crafted. None of it quite matched, as though Augus had collected the furniture piecemeal over a long time. But every item was made with care.
After a beat, he realised these were all most likely gift items from clients. There was almost no way Augus could amass the kinds of funds for even the tiles on the floor, or the rugs that covered it, without trading with very wealthy fae.
Augus returned with a tray that had on it a pot of tea and two cups, a plate of what looked like grain-leaf, and a salt shaker.
‘Apologies,’ Augus said, as he sat, ‘I wasn’t expecting a client, and I usually try and have something they’d be more likely to eat when they come. But I have hadau grawn, and salt if you need it. I don’t eat the salt myself.’
‘Waterhorse,’ Gwyn said, understanding. Waterhorses found salt in high concentrations to be an anathema to them, even poisonous. Gwyn watched as Augus poured tea, following all the correct inter-alignment fae protocol. He poured Gwyn’s cup first, then took a sip from his own, proving the tea to not be poisonous. He then pushed the plate of hadau grawn between them and picked up one of the leaves of pounded seeds and grains, breaking it in two and giving Gwyn the larger half. He nibbled on his own half to once more prove it was hale, before setting the rest back down on the plate.
Gwyn picked up the bigger half and bit into it, uncaring that it was a little bland. He’d need to consume fat, protein and sugars later to make up for energy burned, but this would do for now.
‘We need to talk,’ Augus said, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands together, then resting his chin on his hands. ‘You’re not well, Gwyn ap Nudd.’
‘I’m perfectly well. Aside from being a bit tired, I believe that you are right, I am leaving far haler now than I was when I arrived.’
‘Let’s put prevarication aside, shall we?’ Augus said, smiling darkly. ‘I’ve just had you screaming for mercy, and it’s possibly a little too soon for you to be donning that stoic warrior mask that you apprehend the world with. Or have you forgotten?’
Gwyn coughed, having swallowed the wrong way, and then he put the grain-bread down.
‘I haven’t forgotten,’ Gwyn said, finally.
‘You don’t like war,’ Augus said, staring at him like he could see everything. ‘You love parts of it, but overall, I think it tires your spirit. Aren’t you the one who sometimes rolls out speeches about how you want more inter-alignment cooperation?’
‘Sometimes,’ Gwyn said, shifting uncomfortably. ‘It’s- Only because it makes sense.’
‘The Oak King doesn’t talk about it. Since the Oak King came into power, Seelie participation in the Wild Hunt - and other inter-alignment events like the Winter Court - have dropped precipitously, even with the Raven Prince in power as the Unseelie King.’
Gwyn shrugged. He wasn’t here to talk politics, and he didn’t want to discuss sensitive matters with Augus. Not when it was obvious that Augus had some kind of connection to the Unseelie King. These matters, they weren’t why he’d turned up on Augus’ doorstep.
‘You’re not happy, Gwyn,’ Augus said.
Gwyn laughed. ‘Oh, is that all? Come, Augus, how many fae can say that they’re happy, truly? We might play up our reputations and joie de vivre for the humans, especially during the Season of Mutuality, when humans and fae regularly crossed the veil between the two realms, but let’s be honest. I didn’t come here so you would make me happy. I came here to rid myself of that heartsong.’
‘A heartsong that – outside of a single event that will likely be forgiven in time – has been winning your father’s approval, and the approval of the Oak King and from what I can gather, the Seelie military.’
‘It corrupted,’ Gwyn hissed.
‘I said this isn’t over yet, and it’s not over,’ Augus said, his own eyes glittering stubbornly. ‘Do you want to go back into those rooms again? Hm? Shall I find more enticing ways to get you to listen to me? Because I will do that. And you would let me.’
Gwyn bristled, folded his arms, stared down at the table itself. He only realised how hard he was grinding his teeth together when he stopped. Augus then had the audacity to laugh at him.
‘I am trying to help you,’ Augus said. ‘Any heartsong you gain that isn’t triumph will still corrupt if you don’t take steps to nurture whatever…capacity for contentment that you have.’
Gwyn looked up and glared at him, because the things that Augus was speaking of…Gwyn already had his life mapped out for him. There was one thing he was supposed to do, and he was going to keep doing that thing until it killed him.
‘I don’t see clients multiple times,’ Augus said, sighing. ‘I don’t take repeat clients, but you need help beyond just the breaking of a heartsong. I think you know that.’
‘I think I am one of the most successful War Generals for my age, and on a trajectory to be the Oak King’s confidante. Help? What help do I need?’
‘Do you know what your new heartsong is?’ Augus said. ‘Because I do. Have you figured it out yet? I shouldn’t be the first one to realise something so important. You should. And you have no idea.’
Gwyn picked up the hadau grawn again and ate in place of replying. He didn’t know what his new heartsong was. Didn’t even know if he had one. It wasn’t as though he’d had his wits about him to figure it out anyway. He was only now starting to feel more grounded, more stable. He was – he realised – far more stable than he’d felt for months. It was hard to believe everything he’d experienced at Augus’ hands could help so much. And yet it was almost as though he’d been floating away for years and hadn’t realised. He was anchored again.
Gratitude overwhelmed him for several seconds.
‘I have no idea what it is,’ Gwyn said.
‘You gave it away yourself,’ Augus said, smiling at him. ‘And I think you were ready to transition to it anyway. Had you not come to me, I think you may have transitioned to it anyway, over time.’
If I’d lived that long.
‘Well?’ Gwyn said, impatient. ‘What is it?’
‘You are daft,’ Augus rolled his eyes. ‘It’s wildness. Something that could still come in handy on a battlefield, but, something that also needs to be nurtured. Or you’ll simply lose it.’
Gwyn felt the resonating throb in his gut at the word, and knew that Augus was right. He vaguely remembered Augus calling him a wild creature, over and over again. Had Augus pushed him towards it, even as he’d taken the other one away? Still, it felt…real, and even right. Something that didn’t chafe against him, that didn’t take anything away from him.
It was a shock when he realised that he wanted to keep it. The third heartsong he’d ever had, and he wanted it to stay his, forever. Most fae had one heartsong, and it never changed. If they lived a very long time, they might have two. But Gwyn wasn’t that old by fae standards, and he was already onto his third. He didn’t want it to change again. He wanted his soul to have something like stability for once. Especially if it was for the sake of wildness.
‘You need to listen to me,’ Augus said, leaning forwards and lowering his arm, placing his index finger point down on the table. ‘I don’t know what is amiss in your life, but I do know that the best way to nurture a heartsong like that one is to simply let yourself be in wild spaces. Untouched forest or other forms of wilderness, allow yourself to be predator and prey. Your former heartsong made you choose between one or the other. Victim or perpetrator. Winner or loser. You know as well as I do that life doesn’t always work that way. And that, in the balance of things, we are always both. That is why the King of the Forest allows himself to be hunted during the Wild Hunt, even as he could decimate all of us in a moment with his magic. Even as he regenerates and returns in that endless cycle of death and rebirth.’
‘This is far too prosaic and wise for me,’ Gwyn said, rolling his eyes, while secretly agreeing with all of it.
‘Don’t play down your intelligence,’ Augus said, glaring at him. ‘You’re not stupid, and you know what I’m talking about.’
Gwyn shook his head, but said nothing.
‘This heartsong is not about other people. And it’s not about serving a Kingdom. It can be used for that, certainly, but first and foremost, Gwyn, wild creatures serve themselves. And you need to find a way to do that. Hunt more, the way that you enjoy doing it. Do you have any hounds?’
‘Not…’ Gwyn flushed and then fidgeted. ‘Not for a long time now.’
‘Why not? How does someone like you, with your status and standing, not have any?’
‘I am away, often.’
‘And you can’t keep them kennelled like most Court hunters? You…baffle me, Gwyn. You have access to ways to help yourself already, and you don’t use them. Look, I don’t know what commander or military official abused you when you were growing up, but-’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Gwyn said, unable to stop the sharpness that entered his tone.
What had Augus divined about him? How did he know…how did he know? Even if Augus was wrong about who had hurt him, how did he even know? The signs couldn’t be that obvious. No one else said anything about it.
‘If you want to play dumb, that’s fine,’ Augus said, picking up the teacup and sipping at the murky liquid. ‘But I don’t have to.’
‘You are delusional.’
‘I’ve touched a nerve, have I?’ Augus said lightly. Then his entire demeanour shifted and he stood up, picked up his chair and walked around the table, placing it so that he was facing Gwyn directly, his knees touching the outside of Gwyn’s thigh. Gwyn stared at him, affronted, as Augus carefully took one of his wrists, than the other, and applied a light, steady, increasing pressure. It was like being tied with the ropes again. Gwyn tugged absently, then felt a kind of lassitude move through him and the tension unwound. Just a little. ‘Here. This is better, isn’t it?’
‘Why does that work?’ Gwyn said, staring down at the hands encircling his.
‘I don’t think you get the opportunity to not be on guard often,’ Augus said. ‘Even your new heartsong requires a measure of constant wariness. It’s been hard for you to relax. All your life. But if someone makes you, then you don’t have to worry about it quite as much.’
‘That’s… Okay,’ Gwyn said, exhaling hard. ‘Okay.’
‘All right,’ Augus said, nodding. ‘Listen to me, please. I am telling you to take better care of yourself.’
‘I have to return to the Court,’ Gwyn said, meeting those green eyes. ‘I have to go…report to the King, the-’
‘They haven’t come knocking down my door,’ Augus said. ‘They aren’t here now. Who cares if they wait another day, two days, more? Gwyn, it doesn’t matter. Go somewhere wild, relatively untouched. If you have a cabin or a residence in the wilds, stay there for a little while. Clear your head. You know you need to. I can tell. You look at me as though you’re starving whenever I tell you these things, and then the words you shape insist you don’t need the nourishment. I am telling you that you do. Is there no one who can remind you to look after yourself in this way?’
Gwyn opened his mouth, ready to say that actually he didn’t need anyone to remind him of these things. That Augus had no idea what he was talking about. That…
Augus tightened his fingers enough that Gwyn’s wrists started to ache, and his eyes sank shut.
‘No,’ Gwyn said finally.
‘Don’t go back to the Court straight away,’ Augus said. ‘You don’t need to. Certainly, they might be marginally unhappier, but you’ve dealt with their displeasure before and you will again. It’s obvious that your father is a difficult fae to please. You can deal with them as well in a week, as you can today. You will probably deal with them better, in a week.’
‘Perhaps,’ Gwyn acknowledged.
His heart ached for it. To wander through forests that were barely populated by fae. To find the folded pockets of space in the fae realm where hardly any fae went, because they were difficult places to reach, or because underfae couldn’t get there because they couldn’t teleport. He wouldn’t even need to hunt. He could just…wander, learn a place, understand the breezes, the scents and sounds that surrounded him.
‘You are not theirs to tame,’ Augus said quietly. His voice was insistent, hypnotic, even without compulsions. ‘You do not belong to them. You make your own decisions. For yourself.’
‘But what I did to Cyledr…’
‘That will haunt you for a long time,’ Augus said, shrugging. ‘If you don’t want to do it again, it probably should haunt you for a long time, wouldn’t you say? You have a right to your bloodlust and yes, even your cruelty, but you have the means to control it. And one of those means is to make sure you are looking after yourself better, so that you don’t have these…breakdowns. It’s logical, Gwyn. I am telling you nothing that isn’t logical.’
Gwyn stared at him, wished he could write everything down so he could hold it and remember it. How had no one ever told him these things before? Ever? Because Augus was right, it did seem so basic, and logical, and true.
‘It’s in your best interests to sabotage me,’ Gwyn said finally. ‘I’ve killed your…your kin.’
‘Not my kin,’ Augus said. ‘I know who my family are, and they’re alive and well, thank you. It’s in my best interests to serve my own heartsong, and I’ve done that with you over these past few days. So please, let’s stop changing the subject just because you’re uncomfortable. Tell me what you’re going to do when you leave.’
Gwyn shivered when Augus’ hands shifted, when his palms pressed flat to Gwyn’s palms. Gwyn noticed how warm his own body temperature was, against the lukewarm temperature of Augus’ skin. Noticed that Augus’ palms were long and narrow, felt his skin go even hotter to think that some of those fingers had been inside of him. He swallowed and looked away.
‘Not go back to the Court,’ Gwyn said, hesitating, trying the words out. ‘Find somewhere…wilder. Where I don’t have to do anything but be myself.’
‘Perfect,’ Augus said, looking up from their hands and smiling at him. ‘Exactly.’
I want to stay here, Gwyn thought, but he held himself back from saying it. It was only that he wasn’t used to this undivided attention when it was so strangely positive. Not like this. Certainly, commanders and officers and Generals told him that he did well in battle, but that was…different.
I want to see you again.
Gwyn forced himself to look away again, feeling stupid now. The last time he’d felt like this about someone it…hadn’t ended well. He couldn’t afford anything like this, and after today, he wouldn’t see Augus again.
Would he?
‘You’re going to be all right, you know,’ Augus said after a minute. ‘Eventually. It might take a little while, but you’ll get there.’
‘Will I?’ Gwyn said, feeling doubtful about that.
‘Mm,’ Augus said, smiling like he knew. ‘We live a long time, Gwyn. You clearly have a drive to heal, even if you don’t trust it. You sought me out, didn’t you? There’s something in there that wants you to live, even when you’re on a destructive bent.’
‘Well…’ Gwyn said, not sure what to say to that.
Augus reached across the table, picked up his tea and drank it, before setting his cup down.
‘Now, physically, how do you feel? Are you sore anywhere? Injured?’
‘No,’ Gwyn said. ‘A bit achy, but that’s standard after battle. It’s still better than it was when I arrived. Did you…have something in that bath water?’
‘Yes,’ Augus said. ‘I dabble in wortcunning. And you’re Court fae, you already have accelerated healing. What about mentally? You seem far more sound than before, but do you feel it? Be honest with me.’
‘I…for all my doubts, Augus, I feel better than before. Not well, exactly, but you’ve pointed out that there are other reasons for that.’
‘You don’t live a life designed with your happiness in mind. In that, you must be an exemplary Seelie fae, except the rest seem to manage the divide between working for one’s Kingdom and being happy in one’s self far better. Surely there’s a way to serve the Kingdom that serves you as well?’ Augus shrugged. ‘You’ll find it at some point, I’m sure.’
Gwyn wasn’t so sure about that, but…that was a complicated area that he couldn’t afford to think about now.
‘Now,’ Augus said crisply, ‘since we can’t talk about political matters, why don’t you tell me about the latest hunt you undertook that you determined to be a success?’
Gwyn tilted his head to the side, curious to know if Augus really cared, and finally – catching no dissembling – he talked about something which made his spirit feel far lighter than it had in a long time.
*
At the doorway, Augus presented Gwyn with his sword. No longer covered in blood and gore, but cleaned, pristine. Gwyn took it, turned it in his hand and felt the weight of it. Even after all he’d done, the evil things he’d used the sword for, it felt good in his hand, like an extension of himself. He brought his other hand to the hilt and held it balanced in his arms, before dropping it by his side, letting the point rest on the ground. He’d have to re-hone it later anyway.
Augus opened the door, and Gwyn walked through it, then stopped halfway over the threshold when a hand wrapped around his wrist.
‘All those talks of inter-alignment cooperation,’ Augus said pensively. ‘They really mean something to you, don’t they?’
‘Yes,’ Gwyn said. ‘They do.’
‘You should…’ Augus tilted his head to the side, and it was plain he was still thinking something through. ‘You should come helm the Wild Hunt with me sometimes. The Raven Prince is far too busy to helm it every time, and I take charge from time to time. I tell you, the energy there would be very good for you, and having a Seelie fae helm with an Unseelie fae, well…it’s unconventional, but it might attract more Seelie hunters back to the event.’
Gwyn stared at him.
Augus was inviting him to something like the Wild Hunt? To helm it with him? Gwyn reminded himself not to jump to conclusions and told himself it probably meant nothing and that was for the best anyway, but his heart leapt all the same. He’d always been curious about the Wild Hunt. His father would be furious. But it was an inter-alignment event anyway, and it didn’t put him any closer to ever having to visit the Unseelie Court. His father couldn’t publically order him not to go.
‘It would be all right?’ Gwyn said finally.
‘I wouldn’t invite you otherwise,’ Augus said. ‘Trust me, I’m not in the habit of forcing myself to be in the presence of people who aren’t worth my time.’
Gwyn smiled at him, and though the expression felt stiff, it felt genuine, too. ‘I’ve always wanted to experience it. I’ve heard it’s quite a rush.’
‘You have no idea,’ Augus said, his eyes brightening. ‘It’s frenetic, frenzied, reminds you of who you really are. Plus, it’s once a month, and something you could do to reinforce that new heartsong of yours. So…consider it, please.’
‘Yes,’ Gwyn said, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Of course I will.’
Gwyn lingered, feeling like he couldn’t just leave. He swallowed nervously, and he had the sense that Augus could see through him even now, could see into his clumsy heart. He probably had to deal with these sorts of things all the time.
‘On the matter of payment…I am starting to see why your house is so well provided for.’
‘Yes,’ Augus said. ‘I am good at what I do. You’d agree, wouldn’t you?’
‘I understand now, why I’ve heard people talk of you with the respect they have. I didn’t understand it at first. I’m not sure I understand it now.’
‘I’m not sure I understand it either,’ Augus said, smiling ruefully. ‘It’s not a line of work that any previous incarnation of the Each Uisge has seen fit to involve himself in. But I find it nourishing. So…I’ll see you at the next esbat? The Wild Hunt?’
‘Perhaps,’ Gwyn said, already knowing that he’d try and make it.
Gwyn took several steps backwards so that he was now beneath the green dome that protected Augus’ entire house, that reminded Gwyn that he was many metres beneath freshwater, in the gloom of a lake. He looked up, and when he looked back down again, Augus was already closing the door.
‘Augus,’ Gwyn called, something huge and desperate in his heart.
Augus paused, his head poking out from behind the half-closed door.
‘Gramercie,’ Gwyn said. ‘Truly.’
Augus only smiled at him, and then the door closed with a quiet click.
Gwyn closed his eyes, called his light to him and teleported to the lake bank. It was dawn outside, the sky was lilac one side and a deep bruised blue on the other. Gwyn felt renewed, somehow. Refreshed. He turned a full circle, considering his surroundings. A breeze was cool and wintry on his arms, the Ethallas forest was fresh in the beginnings of spring.
He could go back to the Court like this, could confront the King, could even handle the shame of his deeds.
Instead, he thought of one of his favourite places and teleported there, a full breath of fresh air in his lungs, wildness beckoning him deeper into the woods.