Cry of Sorrow by Holly Taylor Read Free Book Online Page A

forget yourself!”
    “I forget nothing! I am like Owein in that!” Enid spat out, as she ran from the clearing.
    T HE FOREST CLOSED in around her like a prison. She darted in and out between the trees, but she knew that, no matter how far she might run, she was trapped here, as she had been for the past few years. Trapped, and kept away from Bledri who had won her heart when she was just a girl.
    And now, as Owein had said, she was a woman. And a woman with her mind made up. No longer would she try to convince the others of what she knew in her heart to be true. She would show them, instead.
    Out of breath, she stopped running. Panting, she clutched at the bark of a sturdy oak to steady herself. She rested her cheek against the rough trunk and dashed the tears from her face. She would cry for Bledri no more. Now she would act.
    She knew—oh, she knew—that Bledri loved her. She herself would go to Llwynarth. She would tell him that Owein had forgiven him. And he would return to the forest with her. With Bledri by her side, the wood would no longer be a prison, but a haven instead, a place in which she and Bledri would be together. A place from which they would emerge triumphant and set Owein back on his throne.
    But she knew Bledri would not believe that Owein would take him back. Without that assurance, he would not come. She must show Bledri a token, something that would make him believe.
    And she knew what that would be. She knew she could take this token from her brother. For didn’t the ring of Rheged, the ring her own father had worn, belong to all those of the House of PenMarch? The ring was as much hers as it was Owein’s.
    She had heard the story from Esyllt. She knew the words that had been passed down from ruler to ruler for hundreds of years. The ring was to be surrendered only to the Dreamer who asked for it using these words: “The High King commands you to surrender Bran’s gift.” Well, she was not a Dreamer. But she would murmur those words when she took the ring. Just to be safe.
    She would take the ring tonight, and be on her way. In three days she could reach Llwynarth. She would find Bledri and hand him Owein’s ring as a sign of forgiveness. Why, by this time next week, she might even be returning to these woods with Bledri by her side.
    Prince Geriant of Prydyn, her betrothed, was far from her thoughts then. She had only agreed to the marriage to please her brother. And though Geriant was golden and handsome and had looked at her with love, he had not touched her heart. For her heart had been given to Bledri long ago.
    And so she turned to go back to camp, her mind made up. And there, as she turned, her eye lighted on a small, fernlike plant, nestled at the base of the oak. And as she saw it, she understood that her decision had been right. For why else would she see valerian, the herb that, when mixed with wine or ale, would bring deep, deep sleep?
    Truly the gods were with her. She would not fail.
       
Meirigdydd, Lleihau Wythnos—midmorning
    T HREE DAYS LATER , when Enid crested the last rise of Sarn Halen, the main road to Llwynarth, and saw the city in which she had been born, her heart nearly failed her. Almost she turned back, and, oh, what a difference that would have made to so many, she would think later. But she went on.
    The walls that circled the city were still broken and torn in some places, even after two years. So hard had her father and mother fought to hold Llwynarth, so hard had Morcant Whledig fought to take it, that the destruction had been even more extensive than she had dreamed.
    The last time she had seen the city, when she and her brother Rhiwallon had been sent away before the battles, it had been white and shining, like purest flame in the midst of the golden wheat fields. But the fields had been burned, and scarred, and soaked in blood. And now they yielded little, if at all. They were nothing compared to what they had once been. Neither was the city. A