A Sea of Shields

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Luanda stood beside Bronson in the courtyard of McCloud’s former castle, looking out in tense silence at the rows and rows of McCloud prisoners. Four hundred of the McClouds’ most famed warriors stood there, facing them, arms bound behind them with cords, awaiting their punishment. These men had all been rounded up after the night of rebellion, men who’d had knowledge of the plot. They hadn’t been there that night, but they were all complicit in the plot, with Koovia, to entrap and murder the MacGils.

Luanda looked out at these men, these McCloud scum, and she knew what she would do if she were ruler: she would have them all publicly executed. Make a display of it. She would solidify her power, once and for all, and teach all these McClouds the way they could expect to be ruled. Then no one would rebel, ever again.

But Luanda was no ruler, and the decision was not hers to make. Luanda stood there, seething, helpless, knowing it was a decision, instead, for her husband, Bronson, the one whom Gwendolyn had put in charge. Luanda loved Bronson more than anything—yet still, she despised his weakness. She despised that he was a loyal soldier to Gwendolyn, that he was set on implementing her policies. Her sister’s policies were stupid policies, Luanda knew, policies of weakness and naïveté. Pacify the enemy. Hope for peace. The same sort of thing her father might have done.

Luanda ached to be the one in charge, to have a chance to set the outcome a different way. But she knew it was never meant to be. Ever since her return here in disgrace, back to this side of the Highlands, banished once again by her sister, Luanda had been beside herself. She had cried for days, mourning her exile, her inability to ever return to King’s Court.

But Luanda had seen the look of loathing and hatred in all of her siblings’ eyes, and had finally come to realize that she was an outcast in her own family, from her own people, from her own home. They had all, she felt, been so cruel. Yes, she had made some mistakes; but did she deserve such punishment? In her eyes, she was shamed once again—this time, even worse than before.

Luanda had hardened inside, since this last trip, since her return here; something inside her had snapped, and now she had no love left for her siblings; now, she hated her family—and most of all, she hated Gwendolyn. She would kill them all if she could, as punishment for making her an outcast, for humiliating her.

The only person left in the world that Luanda truly loved was standing beside her—Bronson—and it was only out of loyalty to him that she stood there and went along with whatever his decision was as ruler.

“In the name of Gwendolyn, Queen of the Western Kingdom of the Ring, I hereby grant all of you standing here today mercy,” Bronson boomed out to the assembled McCloud soldiers. “Each and every one of you shall be set free. You shall be forgiven your past sins. You shall join with the MacGil army, leading joint patrols on both sides of the Highlands. All of you who would swear allegiance to Gwendolyn, who would swear to devote themselves to peace and harmony, kneel.”

The hundreds of McCloud warriors all took a knee, lowering their heads.

“Do you swear allegiance to Gwendolyn?” Bronson boomed out.

“WE SWEAR!” they boomed back in unison.

“Do you swear eternal allegiance and peace and harmony between the clans?”

“WE SWEAR!”

Bronson nodded to his attendants, and dozens of his men filtered through the ranks and severed the binds of all the McCloud men. The McClouds all looked to each other in wonder and surprise.

The crowd of soldiers dispersed, and as they did, Luanda turned to Bronson.

“That was the biggest mistake of your lifetime,” she said to him, in a rage. “Do you really think those men will be loyal? Will fight for Gwen’s cause?”

“They have suffered enough,” Bronson said. “All their leaders have been killed. Killing more men leads to nothing but more bloodshed. At a certain point, we need to trust, if we ever wish to obtain peace.”

Luanda scowled.

“Those are my sister’s policies. Not yours.”

“I am a subject of your sister,” Bronson said. “And so are you. I carry out her policies.”

“Her policies will get all of us killed. You’ve just made our kingdom unsafe.”

He shook his head.

“I disagree. I feel that we have made it safer.”

Bronson turned away as advisors led him to other matters.

Luanda stood there, watching him, then turned and watched the McCloud soldiers, so happy, reveling with each other as they dispersed. She felt, without a doubt, that none of this would lead to any good.