A Rite of Swords (Book #7 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (13 page)

“My brother cared for nothing but
the throne,” Tirus said darkly. “And himself.”

“Is that why you tried to
assassinate him?” Godfrey chimed in. “I remember that feast that night, in your
castle. The poison meant for our father killed your own son.”

Tirus turned furious.

“I would give you a lashing boy,
if I could.”

“It was your father who tried to
poison ours,” a soldier, beside Tirus, called out. “That poison killed our
brother.”

“I have only four sons now of the
five, thanks to him,” Tirus added.

Gwendolyn looked closely at four
of the soldiers standing beside Tirus, each with raised face visors, and she
recognized them from her childhood. Her four cousins. They were all nearly the
same age as her siblings, and she was surprised to see them all so grown up.
They had become true knights. It was a shame they were sons to this man,
because they had been good people once, as close as siblings.

“And what of your daughter?”
Reece asked.

Tirus glared at him. Perhaps, in
that glare, he recalled Reece’s affections for her.

“She lives, too,” he replied
grudgingly.

“And is a daughter not worth
mentioning then?” Gwendolyn asked. “Is that the sort of fairness you envision
in your kingdom?”

Tirus scowled.

“Women are property,” he replied.
“Your father was a fool to name you queen, to try to elevate women to more than
what they are.”

Now it was Gwen’s turn to redden;
but she forced herself to keep a calm head.

“I
am
Queen,” she said,
“and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Tirus shook his head, and smiled
for the first time, more of a sneer.

“Have you not seen my forces
lined up outside your walls? I’ve twice the men you have. All hardened Upper
Islemen. All who have lived outdoors their entire lives in the freezing rain
and cold, who have slept on rocks, who have tasted no luxuries. All who are
deathly loyal to me.”

“Yet another example of your
kindness and fairness?” Godfrey asked wryly.

Tirus reddened, caught once
again.

“These men will kill upon my
command,” he continued. “I have given you a generous offer. I will give it
once. Abdicate the throne to me, and I will let all of you will live. Defy me,
and our men will crush yours. You have one night to decide. You will give me my
answer at sunrise, or you will witness the final destruction of your city, and
I will take the Western Kingdom by force.”

Tirus turned to go, but before he
could, Gwendolyn stepped forward and called out:

“Uncle! You can have my answer
now if you like.”

Tirus stopped and turned back to
her, a satisfied look on his face. He smiled, as he clearly prepared to accept
her acquiescence.

“You are but a bully and a
coward,” she said. “My father looks down on you in disgrace. Do not ever enter
these gates again. If you do, you will be met by an army of swords that will
send you back to the Upper Isles in disgrace.”

His face dropped in shock,
clearly not expecting such strength and defiance from a woman. He shook his
head disapprovingly.

“You speak hastily,” he said.
“That does not befit a ruler.”

“Indecision does not befit a
ruler, either,” she retorted. “Nor, may I add, do greed and opportunism,
especially when directed towards one’s own family.”

Tirus’ expression darkened.

“You are a young, foolish girl.
Out of courtesy to your father I will give you one night to contemplate your
ill-spoken words and have your advisors talk sense into you. I look forward to
receiving your apology and surrender in the morning.”

Tirus turned with his entourage,
re-mounted, and they all rode off. As they did, Gwen spotted a look on the
faces of some of her cousins, as if they wanted to apologize for their father
and be close to her, as they had when they were younger.

Their contingent soon rode out of
view, passing through the gates of Silesia.

“Lower the gates,” Gwendolyn commanded.

Several soldiers rushed forward
and pulled down the heavy iron portcullis. Soon, all that was left in the
silent, inner courtyard were hoof prints in the dust.

Gwendolyn turned and looked at
the others, as they did to her, all of them stunned in the morning silence.

“You did well,” Kendrick said.
“You made our father proud.”

“He is a pig,” Reece said. “And a
liar, and a braggart.”

“He always sought to dethrone our
father,” Godfrey said. “Now that he is dead, and Andronicus on the way out, he
sees an opening for the throne.”

“He has no legal right,” Aberthol
said.

“But he has the men,” Srog
observed wisely. “Of course, we can defend. And we will. Our city is meant to
withstand a siege. But after the Empire attack, our defenses are severely
weakened. He, unfortunately, chose the perfect moment, when we are weak and
vulnerable.”

“What are the odds?” Gwendolyn
asked.

Srog grimaced.

“We can hold back his ten
thousand men,” he said. “For a time. We can kill quite a number of them. But we
shall lose most of ours, eventually. Strategically, right now, we cannot afford
a war. We need time to rebuild, to heal, to re-fortify. Strategically, the
wisest military move would be to accept his offer.”

“Accept his offer!?” Godfrey
said, outraged. “Have we then ousted Andronicus only to live as slaves to
someone else?”

“What of Thor, and Mycoples?”
Reece asked. “Are we forgetting them? Thor will return soon, after he has
accepted Andronicus’ surrender, and we will have all the might we need to repel
our MacGil cousins.”

“But what if the other MacGils
attack before Thor returns?” Srog asked.

“What if Thor never returns?”
Brom asked.

They all looked at Brom in
horror.

“How can you say such a thing?”
Godfrey asked.

Brom lowered his head.

“Forgive me. But we must plan for
every contingency. Thor is not here right now to defend us. And we can’t plan a
battle around absent warriors.”

Gwendolyn stood there and
listened to everyone’s opinion. She had learned from her father never to speak
when others were talking, especially when they were giving counsel. It was
advice she had taken to heart.

 “I suppose, then, it is a matter
of whether we choose liberty and death, or enslavement and life,” Gwendolyn
observed. “It is the same question we faced not long ago, with the Empire
invasion. And we all know the answer. Life is important; but liberty is more
important us than life.”

There came a grunt of approval
from all the men.

They all turned and headed back
to the castle, and as they did, Gwendolyn looked up and watched the skies.

Thor
, she wished silently.
Please
come back.

Gwendolyn hurried down the
corridors of the castle, reeling from her encounter with her uncle, debating
what to do. She was not the same Gwendolyn she had once been, before her attack
by Andronicus. She had been hardened by the world, had taken the worst it could
give her, and she no longer feared men’s threats. As she had faced down Tirus
defiantly, she had meant every word she’d said. She was prepared to fight to
the death. She was tired of running from danger, from fear of men. She wanted
to make a stand—and she knew it was what her men wanted as well.

But at the same time, she also
felt a tug of guilt knowing she was not just ruler of the armed forces, but
also Queen of the people. The citizens, too, depended on her. Tirus’ forces
clearly outnumbered them, and they were better armed, and better rested. They
had wisely sat out Andronicus’ invasion on the Upper Isles, and had chosen
their timing perfectly: now they arrived well-fed and well-armed, ready to
wreak havoc on a besieged and broken city. That was her uncle: opportunistic to
the last. It did not surprise her; he had been waiting his entire life for a
chance at her father’s throne, and he had found it, right when his brother’s
children were most vulnerable.

Gwendolyn needed someone to
discuss this all with, someone outside her regular council of military
advisors, someone politically shrewd and experienced in the affairs of men. As
she marched through the corridors, she found herself craving, oddly enough, to
speak to her mother, the former Queen. She wanted insight into the man who was
her uncle, who was, after all, the former Queen’s brother-in-law. She didn’t
necessarily want advice; she just wanted someone to sound off to. And since her
own toughening, Gwendolyn found herself, in a strange way, relating to her
mother more and more.

Servants stiffened and opened
doors to her mother’s chamber at her approach, and Gwendolyn entered to find
her sitting there at her small table, playing a solitary game of chess, as she
always did. It brought back memories of when Gwen would play with her. Now her
mother was a woman alone, hardened and cold, not wanting anyone’s company, but
only that of a game.

Nearby stood her old and trusted
servant, Hafold, who never seemed to be far away.

As Gwendolyn walked into the
room, her mother turned and looked at her, which surprised Gwen, as her mother
usually ignored her. Now, her mother actually looked at her with a whole new
respect.

“Leave us,” her mother commanded
Hafold, and unlike times past, Hafold bowed and exited quickly. They both
showed Gwen a respect she had never received before. It was as if her mother
looked at her with whole new eyes.

The door closed behind her, and
Gwendolyn stood there and faced her mother alone.

“Please, sit with me.”

“I do not wish to play,”
Gwendolyn said.

Her mother shook her head.

“We do not need to play. Just
sit. Like we used to.”

Gwendolyn came and sat beside her
mother, facing each other diagonally at the small chess table. She looked down
and studied the ornate pieces, small military figures dressed in black and
white robes, wielding magic weapons.

Gwendolyn sighed and looked out
the window.

“I was pleased to hear of your
return from the Tower,” her mother said. “It did not sit well with me, you
secluding yourself. You are part of the world and you need to be in it.”

Gwendolyn nodded back. She was
surprised to hear her mother cared for, and surprised to hear her being so
kind. Clearly, losing her husband and her queenship had humbled her mother.
This was not the same mother she had grown up with.

“The kingdom is happy to have you
back,” her mother said. She hesitated, then added: “And I am happy to have you
back, too.”

Gwendolyn looked over and saw her
mother smiling at her with compassionate eyes, for the first time in her life.
They were eyes lined with hardship, her face covered in lines and spots.
Gwendolyn could not help but wonder if one day her face would look like that,
too. She knew what it took for her mother to utter those words, and it meant a
lot to her, even if it was too little, too late.

“Secluding yourself from the
world is easy,” her mother said. “Being a part of it—that is what is hard. And
a queen’s life is the hardest of all.”

Gwendolyn thought about that. She
was beginning to understand how her mother felt. As queen she could not help
but feel the responsibility of all these people, feel it in the weight of every
decision she made.

“We were paid a visit by Tirus
this morning,” Gwendolyn said.

“I heard.”

Gwendolyn looked at her mother,
surprised.

“How?”

Her mother smiled.

“I have my people still,” she
said.

Gwen surveyed her mother,
impressed. She was an easy woman to underestimate; even in her state, she still
had considerable resources.

“You did the right thing,” her
mother said. “Your father’s younger brother is a pig. He always has been. Those
MacGils have all the class of the Upper Isles, which is none. They are beneath
you, beneath all of us. Tirus brought his family to the Upper Isles because he
wanted a place to plot and build power and vie for the throne. If he had been a
true brother, a loyal brother, he would have stayed in King’s Court, at his
brother’s side.

“Do not accept any terms for
surrender. He is ruthless. Regardless of what he promises, he will one day kill
all of his brother’s issue, so that no one else could have a claim to the
throne. You are the one and only true ruler of this kingdom now; don’t let
anyone tell you otherwise. Not your uncle, and not anyone else. Fight for what
you have; your father would want it no other way.”

Gwen thought about all she said,
and her mother’s thoughts confirmed her own. She knew her mother would have
wisdom to share, and she felt better already. In some ways, the two of them
thought exactly alike.

Feeling resolved on the issue,
Gwen sighed and looked away, and found her thoughts drifting back to Thor. It
weighed on her even more than any of her other troubles. She wished she had
never sent him away; it was nagging at her and would not go away. She wished
she could take it back. But it was too late.

As she looked at her mother, she
suddenly wondered how much her mother knew. She was starting to realize that
maybe, deep down, that was why she had really come to her to begin with—not to
discuss her uncle, but to discuss Thor.

“I made a grave mistake today,”
Gwen said, not looking at her, looking out through the window, her voice
getting deeper and harder, sounding more and more like her mother’s. “I sent
away someone who loved me very much.”

The former queen sighed.

“A mistake all of us are bound to
make at one time. But the one thing you learn in life, as years turn into
decades, is that it’s never too late to rectify your mistakes. There is always
a second chance. And if there’s not, you can always
create
a second
chance. The power to create it lies in your hands.”

“I am afraid, in my case, it
might be too late,” Gwen said. “I may have just sent him to his death.”

There was a long silence as her
mother studied her.

“You speak of Thorgrin?” she
asked.

Gwendolyn nodded back.

“Yes. I suppose you should be
happy, mother. You hated him anyway.”

Her mother sighed.

“I never hated him,” she
corrected. “I hated him for
you
.”

“Because of who his father is?”
Gwendolyn asked.

As she asked the question, she
watched her mother’s eyes closely. She saw them flicker, and she knew then that
her mother knew. Gwen could not believe it.

“You
knew
!” Gwendolyn
said, standing, outraged. “You knew all this time, and you never once told me!”

Her mother shook her head sadly.

“I told you to stay away from
him. I tried to
force
you to stay away from him.”

“But you still didn’t tell me,”
Gwen insisted.

“I knew that one day you would
find out,” she said. “I wanted you to learn the news on your own. So you could
decide for yourself to stay away from him.”

“Because you think his father’s
blood runs in him? Because you think he will harm me?”

The Queen shook her head.

“No. You still don’t understand.
Not because there is any flaw in Thorgrin. But because there is a flaw in
you
.”

Gwen looked back, confused.

“In me?” she asked.

“You are just like your
father—you and all of the MacGils. You have always put so much credence on
ancestry. But you are all wrong. There is much more to a person than who they
descend from. How many countless tyrants descend from noble kings? And how many
good kings descend from monsters? The son never equals the father.”

Gwendolyn thought about that. Of
course, her mother was correct. But it was still hard, emotionally, to accept
it, especially after what Andronicus had done to her.

“You cannot blame sons for
fathers’ sins,” the queen added.

“You should have told me,”
Gwendolyn said.

“I told you to stay away from
him.”

“But you should have told me
why
.
You should have told me the truth, the whole truth, upfront.”

“And what would you have done?
Would you have stayed away from him?”

Gwendolyn thought about that,
caught off guard. Her mother had a point.

“I … might have.”

“You would not have,” her mother
retorted. “You were blinded by love.”

Gwendolyn pondered that.

“I never thought Thor would be a
bad match for you,” her mother said. “On the contrary, I knew he would be the
perfect match.”

Gwen furrowed her brow, confused.

“Then why did you so try so hard
to keep us apart?” she asked.

She studied her mother, who
seemed strangely silent.

“I sense there’s something else
you’re not telling me, mother.”

Her mother turned and looked
away, and finally Gwen could sense that she was onto something. Her mother was
withholding something from her.

After a long silence, her mother
finally cleared her throat.

“There was a prophecy,” her
mother said slowly, tentatively. “I haven’t spoke of it since you were a child.
The night you were born, a stargazer came to your father. He proclaimed a
prophecy about you. He proclaimed that you would be a great ruler—a greater
ruler than your father ever was.”

Gwendolyn’s heart pounded as
something made sense.

“Is that why he chose me to
rule?” she asked. “Of all the children? Because of the prophecy?”

Her mother shrugged.

“Possibly. I don’t think so. I
think he saw something in you. I think he would have chosen you either way. He
loved you the most. Even more than me.”

Gwendolyn could feel her mother’s
jealousy, her sadness; for the first time, she felt sorry for her.

“I am sorry, mother,” she said.

Her mother shrugged and looked
away, yet by the way she was wringing her hands, Gwen could tell there was
something more on her mind.

“What is it?” Gwen asked,
puzzled.

Her mother would not meet her
eyes and something occurred to Gwen.

“Was there something more to the
prophecy?” Gwendolyn pressed, sensing that there was. “Surely that wasn’t the
only reason you scared Thor away?”

Her mother hesitated, reluctant.
Finally, after an endless silence, her mother looked right at her, and Gwen
could see the heaviness in her gaze.

“The prophecy foretold that you
would marry,” her mother said, her voice grave. “That you would bear a son. And
that your husband would die young.”

Gwendolyn gasped. She tried to
catch her breath, feeling as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her
head.

“That is why I did not want you
to be with Thorgrin,” her mother finally admitted. “I wanted to spare you that
heartbreak.”

Gwendolyn stood, numb. She was in
a trance as she walked from the room and back into the hall, wishing her life
was over.