Her father leaned in toward the fire, staring at the flames as they crackled before them.
“You know why I have summoned you?” he asked.
She searched his face, but still was not sure.
“I do not, Father.”
He looked back in surprise.
“Our discussion the other day. With your siblings. About the kingship. That is what I wanted to discuss with you.”
Gwen’s heart soared with relief. This was not about Thor. It was about politics. Stupid politics, which she could not care less about. She sighed in relief.
“You look relieved,” he said. “What did you think we were going to discuss?”
Her father was too perceptive; he always had been. He was one of the few people who could read her like a book. She had to be careful around him.
“Nothing, Father,” she said quickly.
He smiled again.
“So, then, tell me. What do you think of my choice?” he asked.
“Choice?” she asked.
“For my heir! To the kingdom!”
“You mean me?” she asked.
“Who else?” he laughed.
She blushed.
“Father, I was surprised, to say the least. I am not the firstborn. And I am a woman. I know nothing of politics. And care nothing for them—or for ruling a kingdom. I have no political ambition. I do not know why you chose me.”
“It is precisely for those reasons,” he said, his expression deadly serious. “It is because you don’t aspire to the throne. You don’t want the kingship. And you know nothing of politics.”
He took a deep breath.
“But you know human nature. You are very perceptive. You got it from me. You have your mother’s quick wit, but my skill with people. You know how to judge them; you can see right through them. And that is what a king needs. To know the nature of others. There is nothing more you need. All else is artifice. Know who your people are. Understand them. Trust your instincts. Be good to them. This is all.”
“Surely, there must be more to ruling a kingdom than that,” she said.
“Not really,” he said. “It all stems from that. Decisions stem from that.”
“But Father, you are forgetting that, first, I have no desire to rule, and second, you’re not going to die. This is all just a silly tradition, linked to your eldest’s wedding day. Why dwell on this? I’d rather not even speak of it, or think of it. I hope the day should never come when I see you pass—so this is all irrelevant.”
He cleared his throat, looking grave.
“I have spoken to Argon, and he sees a dark future for me. I have felt it myself. I must prepare,” he said.
Gwen felt her stomach tighten.
“Argon is a fool. A sorcerer. Half of what he says doesn’t come to pass. Ignore him. Don’t give in to his silly omens. You are fine. You will live forever.”
But he slowly shook his head, and she could see the sadness in his face, and she felt her stomach tighten even more.
“Gwendolyn, my daughter, I love you. I need you to be prepared. I want you to be the next ruler of the Ring. I am serious in what I say. It is not a request. It is a command.”
He looked at her with such seriousness, his eyes darkening, it scared her. She had never seen that look on her father’s face before.
She felt her eyes well, and reached up and brushed away a tear.
“I am sorry to have upset you,” he said.
“Then stop talking of this,” she said, crying. “I don’t want you to die.”
“I am sorry, but I cannot. I need you to answer me.”
“Father, I do not want to insult you.”
“Then say yes.”
“But how can I possibly rule?” she pleaded.
“It is not as hard as you think. You will be surrounded by advisors. The first rule is to trust none of them. Trust yourself. You can do this. Your lack of knowledge, your naïveté—that is what will make you great. You will make genuine decisions. Promise me,” he insisted.
She looked into his eyes, and saw how much this meant to him. She wanted to get off this topic, if for no other reason than to appease his morbidity and cheer him up.
“Okay, I promise you,” she said in a rush. “Does that make you feel better?”
He leaned back, and she could see him greatly relieved.
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Good, now can we talk of other things? Things that might actually happen?” she asked.
Her father leaned back and roared with laughter; he seemed a million pounds lighter.
“That is why I love you,” he said. “Always so happy. Always able to make me laugh.”
He examined her, and she could sense he was searching for something.
“You seem unusually happy yourself,” he said. “Is there a boy in the picture?”
Gwen blushed. She stood up and walked to the window, turning from him.
“I’m sorry, Father, but that is a private affair.”
“It is not private if you will be ruling my kingdom,” he said. “But I won’t pry. However, your mother has requested an audience with you, and I assume she will not be so lenient. I will let it go. But prepare yourself.”
Her stomach tightened, and she turned away, looking out the window. She hated this place. She wished she were anywhere but here. In a simple village, on a simple farm, living a simple life with Thor. Away from all of this, from all of these forces trying to control her.
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and turned to see her father standing there, smiling down.
“Your mother can be fierce. But whatever she decides, know that I will take your side. In matters of love, one must be allowed to choose freely.”
Gwen reached up and hugged her dad. At that moment, she loved him more than anything. She tried to push the omen of that snake from her mind, praying, with all she had, that it was not meant for her father.
*
Gwen twisted and turned down corridor after corridor, past rows of stained glass, heading toward her mother’s chamber. She hated being summoned by her mother, hated her controlling ways. In many ways, her mother was really the one who ruled the kingdom. She was stronger than her father in many ways, stood her ground more, gave in less easily. Of course the kingdom had no idea; he put on a strong face, seemed to be the wise one.
But when he returned to the castle, behind closed doors, it was she whom he turned to for advice. She was the wiser one. The colder one. The more calculating one. The tougher one. The fearless one. She was the rock. And she ruled their large family with an iron fist. When she wanted something, especially if she got it into her head that it was for the good of the family, she made sure it happened.
And now her mother’s iron will was about to be turned toward her; she was already bracing herself for the confrontation. She sensed it had something to do with her romantic life, and feared she had been spotted with Thor. But she was resolved not to back down—no matter what it took. If she had to leave this place, she would. Her mother could put her in the dungeon for all she cared.
As Gwen approached her mother’s chamber, the large oak door was opened by her servants, who stepped out of the way as she entered, then closed it behind her.
Her mother’s chamber was much smaller than her father’s, more intimate, with large rugs and a small tea set and gaming board set up beside a roaring fire, several delicate, yellow velvet chairs beside them. Her mother sat in one of the chairs, her back to Gwen, even though she was expecting her. She faced the fire, sipped her tea, and moved one of the pieces on the game board. Behind her were two ladies-in-waiting, one tending her hair, the other tightening her strings on the back of her dress.
“Come in, child,” came her mother’s stern voice.
Gwen hated when her mother did this—held court in front of her servants. She wished she would dismiss them, like her father did when they spoke. It was the least she could do for privacy and decency. But her mo
ther never did. Gwen concluded it was a power play, keeping her servants hovering around, listening, in order to keep Gwen on edge.
Gwen had no choice but to cross the room and take a seat in one of the velvet chairs opposite her mother, too close to the fire. Another of her mother’s power plays: it kept her company too warm, caught off guard by the flames.
The Queen did not look up; rather, she stared down at her board game, pushing one of the ivory pieces in the complex maze.
“Your turn,” her mother said.
Gwen looked down at the board; she was surprised her mother still had this game going. She recalled she had the brown pieces, but she hadn’t played this game with her mother in weeks. Her mother was an expert at Pawns—but Gwen was even better. Her mother hated to lose, and she clearly had been analyzing this board for quite a while, hoping to make the perfect move. Now that Gwen was here, she made her play.
Unlike her mother, Gwen didn’t need to study the board. She merely glanced at it and saw the perfect move in her head. She reached up and moved one of the brown pieces sideways, all the way across the board. It put her mother one move away from losing.
Her mother stared down, expressionless except for a flicker of her eyebrow, which Gwen knew indicated dismay. Gwen was smarter, and her mother would never accept that.
Her mother cleared her throat, studying the board, still not looking at her.
“I know all about your escapades with that common boy,” she said derisively. “You defy me.” Her mother looked up at her. “Why?”
Gwen took a deep breath, feeling her stomach tighten, trying to frame the best response. She would not give in. Not this time.
“My private affairs are not your business,” Gwen responded.
“Aren’t they? They are very much my business. Your private affairs will affect kingships. The fate of this family. Of the Ring. Your private affairs are political—as much as you would like to forget. You are not a commoner. Nothing is private in your world. And nothing is private from me.”
Her mother’s voice was steely and cold, and Gwen resented every moment of this visit. There was nothing Gwen could do but sit there and wait for her to finish. She felt trapped.
Finally, her mother cleared her throat.
“Since you refuse to listen to me, I will have to make decisions for you. You will not see that boy ever again. If you do, I will have him transferred out of the Legion, out of King’s Court, and back to his village. Then I will have him put in stocks—along with his whole family. He will be cast out in disgrace. And you will never know him again.”
Her mother looked up at her, her lower lip trembling in rage.
“Do you understand me?”
Gwen breathed in sharply, for the first time comprehending the evil her mother was capable of. She hated her more than she could say. Gwen also caught the nervous glances of the attendants. It was humiliating.
Before she could respond, her mother continued.
“Furthermore, in order to prevent more of your reckless behavior, I have taken steps to arrange a rational union for you. You will be wed to Alton, on the first day of next month. You may begin your wedding preparations now. Prepare for life as a married woman. That is all,” her mother said dismissively, turning back to the board as if she had just mentioned the most common of matters.
Gwen seethed and burned inside, and wanted to scream.
“How dare you,” Gwen said back, her rage building. “Do you think I am some puppet on a string, to be played by you? Do you really think I will marry whomever you tell me to?”
“I don’t think,” her mother replied. “I know. You are my daughter, and you answer to me. And you will marry exactly who I say you will.”
“No I won’t!” Gwen screamed back. “And you can’t make me! Father said you can’t make me!”
“Arranged unions are still the right of every parent in this kingdom—and they are certainly the right of the king and queen. Your father postures, but you know as well as I do that he will always concede to my will. I have my ways.”
Her mother glared at her.
“So, you see, you will do as I say. Your marriage is happening. Nothing can stop it. Prepare yourself.”
“I won’t do it,” Gwen responded. “Never. And if you talk to me any more of this, I will never speak to you again.”
Her mother looked up and smiled at her, a cold, ugly smile.
“I don’t care if you never speak to me. I’m your mother, not your friend. And I am your Queen. This may very well be our last encounter together. It does not matter. At the end of the day you will do as I say. And I will watch you from afar, as you live out the life I plan for you.”
Her mother turned back to her game.
“You are dismissed,” she said with a wave of her hand, as if Gwen were another servant.
Gwen so boiled over with rage, she could not take it anymore. She took three steps, marched to her mother’s game board, and threw it over with both hands, sending the ivory pieces and the big ivory table crashing down and shattering to pieces.
Her mother jumped back in shock.
“I hate you,” Gwen hissed.
With that, Gwen turned, red-faced, and stormed from the room, brushing off the attendants’ hands, determined to walk out on her own volition—and to never see her mother’s face again.
Chapter XXVI
THOR WALKED FOR HOURS THROUGH the winding trails of the forest, thinking about his encounter with Gwen. He could not shake her from his mind. Their time together had been magical, way beyond his expectations, and he no longer worried about the depth of her feelings for him. It was the perfect day—except, of course, for what happened at the end of their encounter.
That white snake, so rare, and such a bad omen. It was lucky they had not been bitten. Thor looked down at Krohn, walking loyally beside him, happy as ever, and wondered what would’ve happened if he had not been there, had not killed the snake and saved their lives. Would they both be dead right now? He was forever grateful to Krohn, and knew he had a lifelong, trusted companion in him.
Yet the omen still bothered him: that snake was exceedingly rare, and didn’t even live in this portion of the kingdom. It lived farther south, in the marshes and swamps. How could it have traveled so far? Why did it have to come upon them at just that moment? It was too mystical, and he felt absolutely certain that it was a sign. Like Gwen, he felt it was a bad omen, a harbinger of death to come. But whose?
Thor wanted to push the image from his mind, to forget about it, to think of other things—but he could not. It plagued him, gave him no rest. He knew he should return to the barracks, but he had not been able to. Today was still their day off, and so instead he had walked for hours, circling the forest trails, trying to clear his mind. He felt certain the snake held some deep message just for him, that he was being urged to take some action.
Making things worse, his departure with Gwen had been abrupt. When they’d reach the forest’s edge, they had parted ways quickly, with barely a word. She had seemed distraught. He assumed it was because of the snake, but he could not be sure. She had made no mention of their meeting again. Had she changed her mind about him? Had he done something wrong?
The thought tore Thor apart. He hardly knew what to do with himself, and he wandered in circles for hours. He needed to talk to someone who understood these things, who could interpret signs and omens.
Thor stopped in his tracks. Of course. Argon. He would be perfect. He could explain it all to him, and set his mind at ease.
Thor looked out. He was standing at the northern end of the farthest ridge and from here had a sweeping view of the royal city below him. He stood near a crossroads. He knew Argon lived alone, in a stone cottage on the northern outskirts of Boulder Plains. He knew that if he forked left, away from the city, one of these trails would lead him there. He began his journey.
It would be a long journey, and there was a good chance Argon would not even be there when Thor arrived.
But he had to try. He could not rest until he had answers.
Thor walked with a new bounce in his step, walking double-time, heading toward the plains. Morning turned into afternoon, as he walked and walked. It was a beautiful summer day, and the light shone brilliantly on the fields all around him. Krohn bounced along at his side, stopping every now and again to pounce on a squirrel, which he carried triumphantly in his mouth.
The trail became steeper, windier, and the meadows faded, giving way to a desolate landscape of rocks and boulders. Soon, the trail, too, faded. It became colder and windier up here, as the trees dropped away too, and the landscape turned rocky, craggy. It was eerie up here, nothing but small rocks, dirt, and boulders as far as the eye could see; Thor felt like he was journeying on a wasted earth. As the trail completely disappeared, Thor found himself walking on gravel and rock.
Beside him, Krohn began to whine. There was a creepy feeling in the air, and Thor felt it, too. It wasn’t necessarily evil; it was just different. Like a heavy spiritual fog.
Just as Thor was beginning to wonder if he was heading in the right direction, he spotted on the horizon, high up on a hill, a small stone cottage. It was perfectly round, shaped as a ring, built of black, solid stone and low to the ground. It had no windows, and just a single door, shaped in an arch—yet with no knocker or handle. Could Argon really live here, in this desolate place? Would he be upset that Thor had come uninvited?
Thor was beginning to have second thoughts, but forced himself to stay on the path. As he approached the door, he felt the energy in the air, so thick he could hardly breathe. His heart beat faster with trepidation as he reached out to knock with his fist.
Before he could touch it, the door opened by itself, a crack. It looked black in there, and Thor could not tell if only the wind had pushed it open. It was so dark, he could not see how anyone could be inside.
Thor reached out, gently pushed open the door, and stuck his head in.
“Hello?” he called out.
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 78
