"My sister," Luanda said, as Bronson bowed his head.
Gwendolyn nodded back.
“Brother," Luanda added, turning and nodding to Kendrick, who nodded back, silent, probably as confused as Gwendolyn was. He seemed to tense up at the sight of a McCloud near him, as did the other soldiers.
"What are you doing here?” Gwendolyn asked.
"I made a grave mistake,” Luanda said, “in going to the McCloud side of the Ring. Not a mistake in marrying Bronson, who I love dearly, and who is nothing like the others. The other McClouds are brutal, savage people. His father tried to kill both myself and his own son.”
There came a surprised gasp from amongst Gwen’s people, and she examined Bronson and saw the severed hand, the scars; she could tell he had been through hell, yet he stood there proudly. There was something about him that she liked; he seemed nothing like his father, who was a real brute, who Gwendolyn remembered with distaste.
“The McClouds don’t change,” Kendrick piped in. “They are who they are. They always have been.”
“You are lucky to have escaped with your life,” Brom added.
"We have come to ask you for help,” Luanda said, looking from Kendrick to Srog to Brom—to anyone but Gwendolyn. “We ask you to take us in. We were told that the worthy half of King's Court had fled here. We want to defect from the McCloud side of the Ring. We want to be with the MacGils.”
“To fight with the MacGils,” Bronson added proudly. “I will swear my loyalty to you. I will fight to the death for you. Especially against my father and his men.”
Gwendolyn and the others exchanged a glance, and she could see the hesitation in their eyes.
"And how do we know we can trust you?" Brom asked, stepping forward and staring McCloud down coldly. "Your father killed more of my men then I can count. And all in a brutal and cowardly way. How do we know the son is not like the father? How do we know this is not all a trap, that you are not merely waiting to betray us?”
Bronson slowly raised his arm, displaying the stump where his hand once was.
"This is my father’s work,” he said grimly. “What was once between us is no longer. I would gladly be first to kill him in battle.”
Brom stared back, as if summing him up, and finally seemed to believe him.
Gwendolyn believed him, too. He seemed to be an honest and sincere man.
"You are family," Gwen said to Luanda, breaking the silence. She turned to Bronson. "And that means you are family now, too. If she loves you, that is good enough for me. We accept you with open arms.”
Bronson nodded back, his eyes flooding with appreciation.
"Andronicus will soon attack, and we will be in for a siege,” Gwendolyn warned. “We will need every hand we can get.”
"I am honored to fight for your cause, my lady," Bronson said.
Luanda gave Gwendolyn a puzzled look.
"Who is in charge here?” Luanda asked, looking from face to face. “With Gareth in King’s Court, I presume that leaves you, Kendrick? Or is it you, Srog?”
All the others exchanged confused glances; Gwen realized that no one had told Luanda yet.
"Our sister is now ruler of the Western Kingdom of the Ring," Kendrick answered.
"Gwendolyn?" Luanda said derisively, disbelieving. She looked Gwen up and down, shocked. "You? Ruler?”
"It was our father's dying wish," Kendrick said firmly.
"But…but,” Luanda began flustered. “You are a woman. And my younger sister, besides. If one of us should rule, then why would it not be me?"
Gwen felt the old childhood rush of anger towards Luanda rise up within her. Her entire life, as long as she could remember, her sister had been deathly jealous of her. Clearly, nothing had changed.
“My Lady,” Steffen interjected.
Luanda looked down at Steffen with surprise and condescension.
“Pardon me?” she said.
Steffen stepped forward, frowning.
“You will address Gwendolyn, who is now our queen, as ‘my lady,’” he said, defensive.
Luanda looked down at him in surprise, then looked at the set faces of the others and realized he was serious. She looked at Gwen with consternation.
“You don't seriously expect me to have to answer to my younger sister?” Luanda asked, turning to Kendrick.
“You will answer to her," Kendrick said darkly, "if you wish to stay here. Or, if you wish, you can leave the gates of Silesia, and be at the mercy of the enemy. You will respect our late father's wish, as the rest of us do.”
Bronson reached over and laid a hand on Luanda's wrist.
"Luanda,” he said softly, “your sister has been most kind and generous to accept us here. I see no reason why we should not answer to her.”
But Luanda’s eyes flashed with defiance and ambition, as they always had.
"Father always made bad decisions," Luanda seethed. “This is how we got into this mess to begin with. Do you really think that you, of all people, are capable of ruling this people?" she asked Gwendolyn. "Don't you feel ashamed to even try? Won’t you feel terribly guilty if you fail, if you lead them all to their deaths?”
"We are all heading towards our deaths anyway, Luanda," Gwendolyn said calmly. "The question is not if we die. It's how we live. And yes, to answer your question, I am capable of leading this people," she said, a new strength rise within her, actually feeling capable for the first time, now that she was defending herself. "I don't have to explain myself to you. As Kendrick said, if you don't like it, our gates are open for you to leave.”
Luanda flushed, turned, and stormed away.
Bronson stood there, shifting, clearly embarrassed.
"I am sorry for her," he said. "I am sure she does not mean it. We have been through an ordeal.”
“She does mean it,” Gwendolyn said. “She has always meant it. That’s who she is.”
Bronson lowered his head.
“I, for one, am most deeply grateful for your having us here. I will speak with her. She will come around.”
Bronson quickly bowed, and hurried after her.
There was a sudden commotion down below, and Gwen looked down over the parapets to see a woman come running up to the gates, hysterical. Two guards tried to hold her back, and she screamed, flailing, trying to push past them.