The Ways of Winter

Chapter 4-3

“Gwyn went off with his daughter for a long private conversation. I don’t know what they spoke about, but my grandmother looked at peace afterward. She’d thought he’d died soon after her marriage, a deception he’d arranged. She was glad to see her father again, in any form.

“Before they were done, Gwyn asked my grandfather to join them, thanks, I think, for looking after his daughter.” He cleared his throat. “It was very kindly done of Gwyn. He could have avoided the meeting, as the fae usually do for their human descendants with their short lives.” He meant that, he’d been surprised Gwyn wanted to accompany him.

“When they all came back, I introduced them to their cousin Rhian. Her brother Rhys was already at Edgewood, of course.”

He glanced, amused, at Rhian, “You’d never seen elderly humans before, had you?”

“Forgive me, cousin, but I didn’t realize anyone could be that old,” she admitted.

“And yet, with luck, they may live many years more. You should go upstairs and look at the pictures of my grandmother as a girl. You’ll find Gwyn in her face, well enough.”

He continued, “It gave me great pleasure to introduce Angharad to them.” He smiled privately. His grandmother had brought her some oranges, a private joke between them. She’d given him oranges before, a courtship gift he’d presented to Angharad when they agreed to marry. The gift this time broke the awkwardness and Angharad had hugged her warmly. George was sure he’d seen tears in his grandmother’s eyes.

He continued more briskly. “My grandfather is a Master of Foxhounds for the Rowanton Hunt, and I brought back two of our hounds to show him, Dando as an example of a great all-around hound, two generations from outsider blood, and Cythraul as the type of a first generation outsider hound, the new blood that keeps the pack healthy.” He looked at his guests. “We get hounds like Cythraul as whelps on Nos Galan Mai, when Gwyn wins his annual contest against Gwythyr. That’s another long story, for some other night.”

There was silence in the room for a moment, and the crackling and popping of the fire absorbed George’s attention.

He caught sight of Brynach suppressing a yawn, and stood up, breaking the mood and pulling out his pocket watch.

“Alright, we might not be traveling tomorrow, but I have plans for the afternoon if we’re still here and the weather looks promising. I’ll tell you all about it at lunch.”

“It’s that little tree,” Rhian told Brynach, with a grin.

“Never you mind. Let’s give our guests an opportunity to rest tonight. They had a long trek through the snow.”

He bundled them out of the door, Benitoe taking the back way toward the kennels.

“Now,” he said, turning back to his two house guests, “is there anything Alun or I can get you to make your stay more comfortable?” They shook their heads and climbed the stairs slowly, and George sent Alun to bed.

He turned down the lamps in the study and spent the next half-hour staring into the fire with a drink in his hand and his dogs curled up at his feet, wishing Angharad were there and missing his human family.