Matus stepped forward and lowered his head humbly.
“It was an honor, my lady,” he said. “You owe me nothing. But if you ask me, then I shall ask you to release my brothers. They were swept up in my father’s cause, and they did you no harm.”
Gwen nodded approvingly.
“A noble request,” she said. “You ask not for yourself but for others.”
Gwen turned to her attendants: “Release them,” she commanded.
As attendants rushed forward and released them, the two other sons watched with surprise and relief.
Aberthol stepped forward in outrage.
“You make a mistake, my lady!” he insisted.
“Then it is mine to make,” she replied. “I shall not punish sons for the sins of the fathers.”
She turned to them.
“You may return to the Upper Isles. But do not follow in your father’s footsteps, or I will not be so kind the next time, cousins or not.”
The three brothers turned and walked quickly from the hall. As they were leaving, Gwen called out: “Matus!”
Matus stopped at the doorway, with the others.
“Stay behind.”
The other brothers looked at him, then frowned and walked out without him, closing the doors.
“I need people I can trust. My new kingdom is fragile, and has many positions to fill. Name yours.”
Matus shook his head.
“You do me too great an honor, my lady,” he said. “Whatever actions I took were out of love—not out of a desire for position. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, and because what my father did, I am ashamed to say, was wrong.”
“Noble blood runs in your veins,” she said. “The Upper Isles will need a new lord now that your father is imprisoned. I would like you to take his place and be my regent.”
“
“You are a man, who was fought and killed and saved other men. And you have shown more honor and integrity than men twice your age.”
Matus shook his head.
“I could not take the position my father held—especially before my older brothers.”
“But I ask you to,” she said.
He shook his head firmly.
“It would sully the honor of what I did. I did not do what I did to gain position, or power. Only because it was the right thing to do. I am indebted to you and humbled for the offer. But it is an offer I cannot accept.”
She nodded, studying him.
“I understand,” she said. “You are a true warrior and you do the MacGils much honor. I hope that you will at least stay close to court.”
Matus smiled.
“I thank you, my lady, but I must return to the Upper Isles. I may not agree with all the people there, but nonetheless it is my home. I feel it is where I am needed, especially in these tumultuous times.”
Matus bowed, turned, and walked out the council doors, an attendant closing them gently behind him. As Gwen watched him go, she had a feeling they would meet again; he almost felt like another brother to her.
“Srog, step forward,” Gwen said.
Srog stood before her.
“The Upper Isles still need a lord. If you are willing, there are few men I trust more. I need someone who can tame these Upper Islanders. You have ruled a great city in Silesia, and I have no doubt you can keep them in order.”
Srog bowed.
“My lady, truth be told, after all these wars, I dearly miss Silesia. I ache to return, to rebuild. But for you, I would do anything. If the Upper Isles is where I am needed, then it is to the Upper Isles that I shall go. I shall rule in your name.”
Gwen nodded back, satisfied.
“Excellent. I know you shall do a fine job of it. Keep Tirus imprisoned. Keep an eye on the sons. And get these stubborn people to like us, will you?”
Everyone in the room laughed.
Gwen sighed, exhausted. Matters of court never seemed to end.
“Well, if that is all, then I would like to go and participate—”
Before she could finish the words, the doors to the hall opened yet again, and Gwen was shocked to see two young girls enter, perhaps twelve and ten, followed by Steffen, who nodded to them with encouragement. They were beautiful, simple, proud, and they walked right into the hall of men and stood before Gwen.
“My lady,” Steffen said. “Our men were approached by these two young women, who insist they have an urgent message for you.”
Gwen was impatient, baffled, feeling pain in her stomach and wanting to leave this throne.
“We haven’t time for young girls’ games,” she said, exasperated.
Steffen nodded.
“I understand, my lady,” he said. “Yet they seem very serious. They claim it is a matter of the utmost urgency, and that the entire kingdom is at stake.”
Gwendolyn raised one eyebrow, wondering what it could be. The expressions on their faces did indeed seem earnest.
She sighed.
“I do not know what matter could be of such vital importance, that it cannot wait, coming from the mouths of two young girls. But they have survived this war, and that says something. I am sure they know the consequences of wasting the Queen’s time. If they remain determined, let them come forth.”
The girls turned and looked to Steffen, afraid, and he nodded back with encouragement. They turned back to Gwen and stepped forward.
They looked exhausted from the war, wearing soiled clothing, emaciated, clearly starved from rationing. Gwen could see from the looks on their faces that they were serious girls and bore serious news. As they came close, she also took an immediate liking to them. They reminded her of herself as a young girl.
“My lady,” the eldest said respectfully, curtsying and prodding the other to curtsy with her. “Forgive us, but we bear news which cannot wait.”
“Well, out with it then,” Gwen said, impatient, exhausted, sounding more curt than she’d wanted.
“I am Sarka and my sister is Larka. We live in a small cottage outside the city, with our mother. Some time ago, a man crashed into our home and held us hostage, until we captured him and my father brought him to the authorities. The Empire killed my father, though, and took the prisoner.”
The girl took a deep breath, clearly nervous, as if reliving the trauma.
“Some time later, while playing in the fields, I spotted this same man. I would recognize him from anywhere. I am sure it was your brother, my lady. Gareth.”
Gwendolyn’s heart stopped at the word, and her eyebrows arched in surprise.
“Gareth?” she repeated.
“Yes, my lady.”
“My brother? Gareth? The former King?” she asked, in shock, trying to process it all. She had not expected this. Gareth’s name had been so far form her consciousness, with everything else going on, that she had nearly forgotten about him. If she had thought of him, she merely assumed he’d been killed in the war.
“We know where he is,” Sarka said.
Gwendolyn stood, her body electrified.
Gareth. Her father’s assassin. The man who had tried to kill her; who had thrown her brother Kendrick in jail. The man who had escaped justice for far too long, who her father’s spirit cried out for vengeance. The man who had stolen the Sword, lowered the Shield, who had set the entire Ring in a tailspin. The man whom they
