A Rule of Queens

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Gwendolyn marched at the head of her huge convoy of people as dawn broke over the desert, leading them away from the village, toward the Great Waste. Kendrick, Steffen, Aberthol, Brandt, and Atme marched behind her, Krohn at her heels, as they all slowly wound their way out of the caves, up to the top of the mountains, and looked out west and north, toward a vast, empty desert.

As they reached the top, Gwendolyn paused for a moment and looked out at the purple and red sky, the first sun rising, the endless trek that lay ahead of them to a place that might not exist. She turned and glanced back at the village down below, in the opposite direction, all quiet and still in the early morning. Soon, she knew, the Empire would come. The village would be surrounded. They would all be wiped out.

Gwen turned and looked at her people, all that she had left of the Ring, these people who she loved so much. Not far from her stood Illepra, holding the baby girl Gwen had rescued from the dragon’s breath. The baby cried in the morning air, shattering the silence, and Gwen wondered: what have I saved this child’s life for if I do not protect it now? Yet a conflicting thought arose immediately after: what is the purpose of this child’s life if it cannot be a life of valor?

Gwen had remained awake all night, tormented by her decision. The villagers had encouraged her to move on; her own people wanted her to move on. The time had come. She could not, in good conscience, lead her people to a sure death. That was not what Queens did.

Yet as Gwendolyn stood atop the cliff, looking out, something stirred inside her. Something was calling her. It was, she felt, her lineage, her ancestors, their blood pumping through her veins. The seven generations of MacGil Kings, she knew, were with her, whispering down into her ear. They would not let her walk away.

She had a duty and an obligation to her people, to guide them to safety. That was what it meant to rule as a Queen.

Yet a Queen, she realized, also had another obligation. For honor. For valor. To bring out the best in her people. To define who her people were. Even in the face of death—perhaps most of all in the face of death. That, after all, was when it mattered most.

Gwendolyn heard her father’s voice ringing in her ears:

One day you will be faced with a choice that torments you. Every part of your rational mind will pull you one way; yet your ideals will tug you another. That torment, that is what it is all about. That is when you will know what it means to rule as a Queen.

Gwen turned back and looked down, seeing the small village in the vast countryside below, watching all the villagers beginning to rise, to face the dawn, to face a certain death. They rose proudly. Fearlessly.

She looked up, and in the distance, on the horizon, like a storm brewing, she could already detect the Empire forces, stretched as far as the eye could see.

As she looked down one more time at the villagers, pondering her choice, feeling her people behind her, waiting here at this crossroads, she realized: yes, it is the duty of a Queen to shepherd her people; yet it is also her duty to shepherd their spirit. To embody their spirit. And the spirit of her people was to never run. To never back down. To never turn your back on those in need.

Safety meant nothing when it came at the price of someone else’s harm.

Gwendolyn faced the village, the horizon, the gathering Empire army, and she knew there was but one choice she could make:

“Turn our people around,” she commanded Kendrick.

Gwen turned and marched forward in the opposite direction, heading down the slope toward the village, toward the Empire army. She led her people, and she knew, as a shepherd knows its flock, that they would follow.

She knew they were marching to their deaths. Yet that mattered little now. Everyone died—but not everyone really lived.

What mattered most, she knew, was that they were marching to glory.