On the third day her face above him was joined by that of his own father.
Bladud studied the High King’s face carefully, wondering if he was really there. The man was grey-bearded, grave, stern; but the eyes that gazed into those of his son were full of affection and concern.
Why is he here? Bladud thought, but then the face was dissolving. Not real, Bladud thought. Nothing holds. Nothing stays...
As Hudibras straightened up, his presence seemed to fill the room. Beside the door Rheinid waited, wondering what he would do next. If Bladud died, she knew her own life might soon be over. But if he lived — what then?
The great king walked from the room without a backward glance at his son, and without acknowledging Rheinid’s presence. For him she might as well not have existed.
Biting her
