Gwendolyn leaned in, and Thor held her shoulder tight; he looked over into her crystal eyes, glowing in the firelight, and leaned in and kissed her. He felt alive in that kiss. As he held it, his heart pounded with anticipation. He felt the ring burning in his pocket, and more than ever, he wanted to ask her, to give it to her.
But first, he knew, he had to tell her. She had to know about the monster he hailed from. The more he thought about it, the more he began to tremble.
“You’re shaking,” Gwen said.
“I’m just cold,” Thor lied.
She smiled, leaned in and whispered in his ear: “Then follow me.”
She got up wordlessly, and Thor took her hand and allowed himself to be led into the black night, between the fires, anywhere Gwen would take him.
* * *
Thor and Gwendolyn entered the ancient halls of Srog’s castle in Upper Silesia, guards stiffening to attention as they passed down corridors lit by torchlight. They walked hand in hand, Gwen leading them as they twisted and turned down one hall then the next, up a flight of steps, until finally an attendant opened the door to the guest chamber.
As they stepped inside, Thor looked up at the ancient arched ceilings, all stone, at the roaring fire in the huge marble fireplace, at the massive four-poster bed, at the torchlight along the walls, and he was grateful to Srog for his hospitality. They had been given a room fit for a King and Queen. Of course, Gwendolyn was Queen, but Thor did not feel entitled to any of this. In his mind, he was still just a boy from another small village on the periphery of the Ring.
Walking into a room like this, though, made him feel like a king. He had always envisioned bigger things for himself; but now that they were here , before his eyes, he could hardly believe it. This all didn’t seem real. Here he was, with Gwendolyn, the Queen, wielding the Destiny Sword, with his own dragon waiting for him in the castle grounds. He had managed not just to join the Legion, but to become the head of it; he had not just earned the respect of the Silver, but had become the one they looked up to most. He had dreamed big for himself, but never that big. And now that it was all here, it was hard to process. He still expected someone to wake him up and tell him he was dreaming.
As Gwendolyn took his hand, her soft, smooth skin warm in his palm, he knew this was real; he felt as if it were the first time he had ever touched her. And as he held her, he realized his joy had nothing to do with this room or this castle or any of it—it was all about Gwendolyn’s love. As surreal as everything else felt, her love, and his love for her, felt natural to him. It grounded him.
As they approached the pile of furs before the fireplace, Gwendolyn leading him with a smile, Thor found himself feeling nervous, as if it were the first time he had ever been with her. They had been apart for so long, and so much time and distance had grown between them, in a way it was like meeting her again for the first time. He felt a fluttering in his stomach, and the old fear of saying the wrong thing.
Thor thought back and remembered when he’d first met her, how tongue-tied he had been; in a strange way, a part of him was feeling that way again now. He had to admit, he was still intimidated by her beauty, by her charm, by her graciousness—by everything about her. He could not help but feel she was of a greater class than he, that she was so much greater than he would ever be.
As they lay down together, Gwen leaned in and kissed Thor, and he kissed her back. They held the kiss for a long time, the fire crackling beside them, Thor feeling the heat of it on his face. He took her into his arms, and the two of them lay side-by-side on the furs.
Gwendolyn smiled over at him, and he felt his entire world restored in that smile.
Yet Thor was still nervous, for another reason. As Gwendolyn looked into his eyes, he wondered if somehow she recognized who his father was. He blinked and looked away, self-conscious, and hoped not. He knew his thoughts were foolish, that it was impossible, yet still, it plagued him. He had to get it off his chest, to tell her. At the same time, he didn’t want to ruin the moment.
Gwen looked away, and Thor sensed there was something she wanted to tell him, too. He was not quite sure what it was, but he knew her well enough to know there was something she was withholding. He could see it in the slight tremble in her lip. It made him wonder. Did she know of his father? Or was it something else?
As he studied her, he could not imagine the horrors she had endured at the hand of Andronicus. Yet here she was, still happy, smiling. He admired her more than he could say. She was stronger than him—stronger than all of them.
“What’s wrong?” Gwendolyn finally asked. “You seem quiet.”
Thor shook his head. He was afraid to speak, afraid to tell her. He knew he had to, but he just could not summon the courage. He was too ashamed.
“I… I… just miss you,” he stammered.
It was true, he had missed her; but it was not what was on the forefront of his mind.
“I missed you, too,” she smiled back. “It felt like you were away for a lifetime. You don’t seem like the same boy that left. You seem more like…a man,” she smiled.
Thor understood. He felt older himself. Much, much older.
“The Empire…” he began, then stopped. “It was so foreign…everything about it so different, so exotic… The things I’ve seen…” he trailed off.
She took his hand and brought it to her lips.
“Another time,” she said softly. “There will always be wars and battles, but now is our time. It seems to be a very rare thing. Let us cherish it. Now is the time for us.”
Thor felt his heart swell at her words. She leaned in, and they kissed again. She held him tight, and he held her back tighter, and they rolled on the furs, the lights flickering in this beautiful chamber.
He let himself go. All the worries of the world began to fade from his mind. Everything else slipped away, and he thought of nothing but Gwendolyn. Of their love. He had found a place in the world.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Luanda rode through the night, Bronson beside her, galloping down the dark roads leading out of Silesia and heading east, towards the Highlands. Luanda had never thought she’d find herself heading back in this direction. When she had fled the McClouds that day, she had vowed to never return, vowed to live and die the rest of her life on the MacGil side.
But things had changed, beyond what she could have foreseen. With her father dead and Gwendolyn in power, Andronicus’ invasion had altered her life in a way she had never expected. There was clearly no place for her anymore on the MacGil side of the Ring, no spot for her to rule, no way for her not to have to answer to her little sister. She hadn’t been born first to answer to her. It wasn’t fair. If a queenship would not be given to her, then Luanda would have to take one for her own.