“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.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
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.”