“My lady, shall we summon the army?” Kendrick asked. She could hear the anxiety in his voice.
She watched the contingent approach, perhaps a dozen men, and did not see any of their hands on their weapons. She sensed that this army might be hostile, but that this contingent was not. Perhaps it was coming with a message—or an offer.
“No,” she replied. “We have plenty of time for that. Let’s hear them out.”
“Are those the colors of the other MacGils?” Reece asked aloud. “Of the Upper Isles?”
“They appear so,” Kendrick said. “But what are they doing here?”
“Perhaps they have come to abet our cause,” Atme said.
“Or to prey on us at our weakest,” Godfrey added.
All the same thoughts raced through Gwendolyn’s mind as she stood there.
The men came closer, then finally stopped but a dozen feet before them. They dismounted.
One soldier walked out in front of the others, flanked by four men, looking right at Gwendolyn. He was a large and broad man, covered in the finest scarlet furs, and as he removed his helmet, Gwendolyn recognized his shaggy gray hair and pockmarked face immediately.
Her uncle: Tirus MacGil.
Tirus, close to her father’s age, looked much older than the last time she had seen him, as a child. Now his beard was thick with gray, his face bore too many worry lines, and it did not carry the pleasant, carefree nature she remembered. Now his face was stern, humorless. He did not smile as he greeted her, as he used to when she had been a child, laughing in a carefree manner, picking her up and swinging her. Now, he approached with a stiff body, as an adversary might, his jaw locked and his brown eyes expressionless.
On the one hand, her heart leapt to see him, as he resembled her father so much, it made her miss him dearly. On the other hand, she felt a cold pit in her stomach, brought on by his demeanor and that of his soldiers, as she would when facing any other adversary.
Tirus stopped a few feet away from her, and stared back coldly. He did not bow or nod his head or offer to kiss her hand, even though she wore the royal mantle of Silesia and he surely must have known that she was queen. It was a sign of disrespect, and she took note.
“I’ve come to claim what is rightfully mine,” he announced in a loud and booming voice, a voice meant not just for her but for everyone within earshot. “My eldest brother, King MacGil, is dead. By right, the kingship falls to me, his next eldest brother.”
Gwen reddened. So that was what he was after. She should have known. Her father had warned her.
She cleared her throat, and addressed him back in an equally confident and formal manner:
“That is not the law of the Ring, as you very well know,” Gwendolyn replied. “Our common law dictates the kingship fall to the named child of a deceased King.”
“ Your law,” Tirus said. “Not mine. You alter your law as it suits you. We are of the Upper Isles, not the Ring proper, and we have our own law.”
“My father did not alter any laws,” she corrected, knowing her history all too well. All her years of reading were now paying off. “It has been the same law in use for seven generations of MacGil Kings, authored by Harthen MacGil and acknowledged by the Supreme Council before the formation of King’s Court. If anyone seeks to alter the law, it is yourself.”
Tirus reddened, clearly not expecting such a scholarly retort, clearly in over his head.
“You have too much schooling, girl,” he said. “You always have. You are too smart for your own good. But you’ll need more than books to rule a kingdom. Perhaps you know the technicalities of the law. But I come with real life. My eldest brother is dead, and I don’t care what your law says—by right, control of the Ring should fall to me now. I have waited long enough, nearly a lifetime. I’ve come to take what I deserve. Whether your law grants it to me or not.”
Tirus sighed.
“Because your father and I were once close,” he added, “I’ve come with a kind and gracious offer. I will give you a chance to peacefully hand over the kingship to me. You have barely held it but a short time—you should not miss it too much. And you are a woman, after all—and a young woman at that. It was never meant for you. You will hand it over to me, and I will take all these responsibilities off your head. You could not possibly know how to rule a country anyway. As your ruler, I will treat you well. You will all have a place in my kingdom. Of course, I and my men will move our court here, and some of you may be displaced. But don’t worry, we shall find you other homes. Your taxes will rise, and you will fight in service to me, but I will be a fair king.”
“As fair as you are to your people now?” Kendrick asked.
Tirus turned and gave him a look of seething hatred.
“Our father took us to visit your lands many times,” Kendrick added. “Children or not, we still had eyes. You were a brutal landlord. Your people hated you. I saw no evidence of the kindness and fairness you boast of.”
Tirus locked his jaws.
“You open your mouth when you should listen, boy,” Tirus seethed. “You are barely weaned from your mother’s breast. Let real men like me tell you what the world is like.”
“You are full of bombast,” Kendrick retorted. “Your fault is that you think yourself greater than you are.”
Tirus turned purple, clutching the hilt of his sword. Clearly, he was not used to being spoken to this way. He must have been used to everyone deferring to him.
“And this comes from the bastard son of his father?”
Now Kendrick reddened.
“I am the first born of my father. The firstborn son , too. By right, that would give me the throne. But my father chose to give the throne to Gwendolyn—and I respect his decision. Unlike you, who seeks to seize what is not his.”
“You are but a bastard,” Tirus said, “and if your father had any sense he would have listened to me and killed you the day of your birth. It was another example of his great foolishness to keep you alive.”
Kendrick gripped his hilt and took a step forward, and immediately, all the swords were drawn by knights on both sides of the contingents.
Gwendolyn reached out and lay a hand on Kendrick’s wrist, and he turned and looked at her. She could see the fury in his eyes—she had never seen him so upset. But as he felt her calming hands, he stopped.