Erec thought of his words, as his father suddenly closed his eyes. He lifted his hand and waved Erec off. Erec wanted to say goodbye to him, to hug him.
But that was not his father’s way—it never was. His father was a cold and hard man when he wanted to be—even abrupt. And now Erec could see that he was through with him. Erec had served his purpose.
As Erec turned to walk out the door, his father coughing and coughing, Erec knew this was the last time he’d ever see him, and he was left wondering. His father had left him as heir to his kingdom—but did he truly love him as a son? Or did he only love him as heir to his affairs?
And even more so, the thought that struck Erec like a knife in his chest: if being King meant compromising one’s word, one’s honor, for the sake of the masses, was that something Erec could do? Erec had lived his entire life for honor, and he would give up his life for honor, no matter what the cost. But as King, could he afford that luxury? He would destroy himself for the sake of honor—but could he destroy a kingdom?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Gwendolyn stood at the head of the huge ship, leading her fleet, peering out into the horizon and rising up and down as the ship was buoyed on the rolling waves. She breathed deep, knowing that every moment, every spray of an ocean wave, took them further and further from the Ring.
They sailed into a driving wind and mist, the rain finally pausing, but the thick, gloomy clouds refusing to recede. Despite the summer, it was getting colder the further north they went, and Gwen pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders. She clutched Guwayne, holding him tight to her chest, relishing his warmth, rocking him as she looked out and wondered of the future that lay ahead of them.
Gwendolyn did not turn around and look back—not once—even though she knew that the mainland of the Ring was now far from sight. She feared that, if she turned around, she would spot Romulus’s dragons, that somehow they would break through Argon’s shield and pursue them. Recalling their awful sight, the heat of their flames as they’d approached, she shuddered; she did not want to jinx it.
All around her, all there was, was ocean, water in every direction, an endless monotony. But it didn’t matter; she welcomed water for a change. She couldn’t bear to look back behind her, in the direction where her home once stood. It was too painful. Everything, she knew, that she ever loved and cherished was now burned to the ground; King’s Court, she felt sick to think, was now being enjoyed by Romulus and his soldiers, by his dragons. All of her people throughout the Ring, the ones who had not had time to evacuate with her, were surely dead. Her homeland was no more. Gwen felt gutted; she felt as if somehow it were all her fault. She wished dearly that she could have rescued more of her people.
All that remained, all the hope she had left in the world, lay straight ahead. She looked about and saw her dozens of ships and could not help but feel that they were stealing away like exiles, a mass exodus from the bounties of the Ring to the lonely, craggy, stormy Upper Isles. Gwen trembled to think that the rest of her days, her people’s days, would be doomed to such a place; but at least, she told herself, they were alive. They had survived. And for now, that was all that mattered.
Gwen knew there would be no welcoming party waiting to greet her; only a cold, if not hostile, reception by Tirus’s men. The last she’d heard, she’d dispatched Reece to apologize to Tirus; who knew how Tirus had taken it. Would he be gracious upon their arrival? she wondered. Somehow, she doubted it. She now inhabited a cold, barren place, stuck between one adversary and the next, she and all her people forced to fight, one way or the other, in whatever direction they chose, just to survive.
Gwen closed her eyes and tried to push out the horror; she thought of all the people she’d had to leave behind, spread throughout the Ring, all under her care. She shook her head, thinking of all the families who must be dead right now, eviscerated by Romulus’s hand and the breath of his dragons. She did not understand how it could have happened. Romulus, somehow, had managed to lower the Shield, and had managed to somehow control all those dragons. She had sensed doom coming, yet she’d never imagined such breadth of destruction.
Gwen felt like collapsing, like giving up, so weak and tired and drained in every possible way, but she forced herself to be strong. After all, she was Queen, and she still ruled, and her people were looking to her. Her queendom had shrunk to this ship, this fleet, these hundreds of people, yet still, it was something. She had to go on for their sake.
Gwen craved someone to talk to, now more than ever. She thought of Argon, and recalled how Ralibar had caught up to them, had deposited Argon’s limp body, unmoving, on the deck, where he still lay; Gwendolyn and the others had tried to awaken him, to no avail. Her heart had broken at the sight, and she wondered if Argon had left them this time for good. Ralibar had taken off, she did not know where, and she did not know if he would ever come back to her, either. Gwendolyn felt more alone than ever. Without Argon, without Ralibar, without Thor—and with only these few thousand men—what hope did any of them have? They would be lucky, she knew, to even reach the Upper Isles. If Argon’s shield lowered, they would be finished. They could not withstand a direct attack from Romulus and his dragons, and she knew that eventually, they would surely follow them.
Gwen looked out to the horizon, to the stormy seas, and wished that now, more than ever, Thorgrin was here, by her side.
“My Queen?” came a soft voice.
Gwendolyn turned to see her brother, Kendrick, come up beside her, along with her other brother, Godfrey, and Steffen and Aberthol. She took comfort in their presence, and was grateful that at least they had survived.
“We won’t be approaching the Isles for some time, if even today. Night looms, and the wind is picking up. Will you come below with the rest of us? Standing up here will make you sick, and will not make us arrive any faster.”
Gwendolyn shook her head.
“I don’t want us to arrive any faster. I want to return to the Ring. But it is gone. Destroyed forever,” she replied, despondent. “And it is my fault.”
She turned and faced them, and Kendrick and the others exchanged a grave look. Gwen told herself to be strong.
“It is not your fault, my lady,” Steffen replied. “On the contrary, you saved all these people you see here.”
“I expect us to arrive at daybreak,” Kendrick said, “and our men will need to be prepared. I doubt we shall find a warm reception. We intercepted a raven heading for the Ring. It brings news that our brother has killed Tirus.”