A Sky of Spells

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Gwendolyn soared high in the air as she rode on the back of Ralibar, clutching on for dear life, as she always did when she rode him, trying to predict his unpredictable temper. Ralibar dipped in and out of the clouds, dove up and down, snorting, sometimes even arching back. He was the most strong-willed and temperamental creature she had ever met, and she could feel his emotions flaring within him.

Gwen was honored that Ralibar even let her ride him. She had discovered, moons ago, his fondness for her. Whenever Thorgrin went to ride Mycoples, Ralibar would become jealous and territorial, and would snort and shriek at Thor, trying to scare him away. Ralibar and Mycoples would stand off with each other, and it had been getting progressively worse—until one day, Gwendolyn had accompanied Thor to see him off, and they had all been shocked as Ralibar had turned to Gwendolyn, had lowered his head and, while first examining her suspiciously, had then leaned in and stroked her stomach with his face. Ralibar had purred softly, and for the first time ever, he had calmed.

Thor had watched in shock as Gwendolyn had reached up and stroked Ralibar’s face, nervous as she felt his rough scales, ancient and a little bit moist. Ralibar had then shocked them all even more by lowering his head all the way to the ground, a gesture meant for Gwen to ride him.

Gwendolyn had mounted him nervously, not sure what to expect. It had been a wild and crazy ride, and she was uncertain whether he actually wanted her on or not. Yet, still, he had sought her out every day since and had gestured for her to keep riding him.

For a beast who was clearly endeared to Gwendolyn, Ralibar had a funny way of showing it. From the outside, it might even seem as if he hated her. He was a moody and tempestuous creature, perpetually in some sort of emotional storm, whether at himself, or humans, or other dragons. Gwen felt compassion for him: she got the feeling that he was a loner, a malcontent, yet she sensed that, beneath it all, Ralibar had a big heart, and that he might just be lonely. He flew erratically, and often acted as if he wanted Gwen off of him; yet when she tried to dismount, he threw a fit, and thus clearly wanted her to stay.

Despite all his craziness, Gwen had taken a liking to him; he had an odd way of getting under her skin. Over these last several months, Gwen had grown accustomed to his moods, and had learned to read his signs. The bond between them grew ever stronger, and it made Gwen feel happy in a way she had not expected. She even sensed Ralibar’s moods starting to calm.

On this beautiful summer morning, in the picture-perfect weather, both suns shining, Gwen took her morning ride, as she always did. Nearby, Thorgrin rode Mycoples, the two of them lifting up into the air in the early morning sky, as they always did together, launching off from the top of King’s Castle, their dragons intertwining as they flew. They had developed a morning ritual, and they followed it today: they circled the grounds of King’s Court, then circled the towns and villages surrounding it, Gwen surveying her people, her kingdom, every single morning, to make sure all was in order.

Gwen loved this time together with Thor and with Ralibar and Mycoples, the most magical mornings of her life, watching the suns rise, watched the mists burn off the land below in all different colors. It also afforded her a bird’s eye view of her kingdom, and more than once she had spotted some trouble down below that she would have not seen otherwise, which made her convene her council and set wrongs right. She had spotted fires, small villages dilapidated, people injured or struggling with their horses and carts, roads in disrepair…an endless number of small fixes to her kingdom. It allowed her to be an omnipresent queen. It also was reassuring for her people to look up and see her every morning, watching over them, setting wrongs right, riding on the back of a dragon. It enforced her image as a woman of power.

Gwen had never anticipated that she would fall so comfortably into the role of queen. But now that six moons had passed since the expulsion of the Empire and her peoples’ return to King’s Court, since she had begun the process of re-establishing her rule, she had found that being queen came naturally to her. It had been the most glorious six moons of her life. She had grown closer to Thor than she could ever imagine, the two of them finally having a chance to be together every day and night, sleeping in her former parents’ chamber, in the castle, which she had painstakingly rebuilt.

Most glorious of all, she was now nine months pregnant, and her belly protruded more than she could ever imagine; she felt on the verge, any day, of giving birth. Her baby moved inside her all the time, and she felt his presence with her every moment, as if he were out there in the world with her right now.

She had not let it slow her down, however. Every day she had been focused on rebuilding, with Thor, her council, all the people she loved and trusted at her side, all working like an army to make King’s Court as magical and resplendent as it had once been. Gwen was determined that King’s Court become more than just a city: she wanted it to become a beacon of hope and optimism for all the survivors of the Ring. She wanted it to be a testament that they would all come back, even stronger than before.

To her amazement, she had succeeded. As Gwen looked down, circling the city, the summer wind in her hair, she was awestruck at how beautiful King’s Court has become. It shone in the sun, completely rebuilt and bigger than before, sprawling now for miles in each direction, greatly expanded. It was a greater and more foreboding city than her father had ever dreamed of. She had managed to double in size everything her father had done, adding bigger ramparts, turrets, forts, moats, widening roads, thickening city walls…. King’s Castle soared higher than ever, the Hall of Arms and the Hall of the Silver were rebuilt, and even the Legion grounds were back to what they once were. Thousands of her people had worked night and day to bringing it back to life. Looking at it now, one could not tell it was ever destroyed.

The work went one, as it did every day, and even from up here there could be heard the perpetual sound of chisels and anvils and hammers ringing through the air. It was the sound of progress, and it was a part of daily life in King’s Court now. As Gwen looked below, the sight amazed her anew each day, and she could hardly believe what she had accomplished. It made her feel that anything was possible. It made her realize that even if she reached the lowest and darkest times of her life, it was still possible to bounce back from anything—and make life even greater than it ever was.

As Gwen circled with Ralibar, she wondered what her father would think if he saw all this. Would he be proud? She had a feeling that he would. He had chosen her to rule, after all, and this would all be a testament to his choice. She wished more than anything that he was alive now to witness all this, yet she felt that he was watching with satisfaction.

Gwen directed Ralibar to dive down to the left, and Thor followed on Mycoples. She flew over the outer ring of King’s Court, a new vast courtyard, replete with formal gardens and bubbling fountains, brand-new walls and arches. Gwen had it built of a shining white marble, mined from an ancient quarry, and it was, to Gwen’s eyes, the most beautiful part of King’s Court, this new courtyard which had never existed before. It was hard to imagine it now without it.

Even more exciting was the activity taking place down below, hundreds of workers scurrying about, working furiously to prepare for her wedding. They had been preparing for six moons, and the wedding had grown into a bigger and bigger affair. Scores of workers draped flowers of every color along the ancient stone walls, while others lined up thousands of chairs alongside a long red velvet aisle which was being rolled out. An altar was being constructed at the end of it, bedecked in flowers of every sort.

With the wedding just a half moon away, people were already pouring in from all corners of the Ring, from both sides of the Highlands, from the Upper Isles—and even from countries outside the Ring, a steady string of dignitaries visiting from lands far away. They had sent delegations and had crossed the ocean, and Gwen had the Shield lowered long enough to let them cross the Canyon. Gwen looked out at the wide road leading to King’s Court, and she saw, as she did every day, thousands of people heading for King’s Court. They wore brightly colored robes of every color and fashion, from every corner of the world.

Today was the day of the summer festival, the first reaping of fruits, and they all poured in to celebrate. There would be festivals and revelries unlike any other, lasting for days, especially as they were also coming to celebrate the new capitol of the ring, and to attend her wedding.

Gwen felt butterflies at the thought. The wedding was nearly here, but a half moon away. She felt her stomach flipping, and she hoped and prayed that the baby did not come before then. Over the last six moons, she and Thor had grown ever closer, and she could hardly wait to be married to him. She looked down and glanced at his mother’s ring shining on her hand, as she always did, and felt an amazing energy radiating off of it.

Ever since Thor had killed Andronicus, he had been like a different person. He seemed as if he had found some sort of peace within himself, and he had settled into domestic life with Gwendolyn quite well. He had thrown himself into the rebuilding of King’s Court, and of the Ring, and had trained every day with his fellow warriors, taking joy from their presence.

Ralibar suddenly jerked to the right and dove down unexpectedly, and Gwen held on tight as she felt her stomach plunging. She could sense by his movements that he was ravenous for his morning breakfast. She hugged his neck and leaned low as he turned for the forest, diving between the trees, scanning left and right for a meal.

“Ralibar, stop!” she commanded. “Not now!” she yelled, annoyed at his ravenous appetite.

But Ralibar, as usual, ignored her. He swerved in and out of the trees until he focused on a target, opened his great jaws, and snatched up a huge red deer.

Gwendolyn turned, hating to watch.

Ralibar lifted it in its jaws, then flew back up into the air, carrying the animal, protesting in its mouth, until he threw back his head and swallowed it.

Ralibar then set his sights back on the ground, and Gwen had a sinking feeling he was going to plummet again.

“Ralibar, NO!” she screamed.

He again ignored her. This time he set his sights on a lake, King’s Lake, his favorite. He never missed an opportunity to skim it.

Ralibar dove low, Gwen clutching him, and as he neared it, he opened his mouth and breathed a wall of flame.

The flames singed the water, steam rising off it, and as the water bubbled and heated up, scores of fish suddenly leapt out of it, into the air, trying to escape from the boiling waters. As they leapt, Ralibar was there, waiting, jaws open. He swallowed entire schools of fish, flopping in his great jaws, some of them falling back into the water, as he gulped the rest down.

Mycoples flew beside them, but she did not bother eating. Perhaps because she was female, she did not seem to have Ralibar’s appetite. Luckily, at least, Ralibar did not eat any humans.

A horn sounded in the distance, and Gwen was finally able to wrestle Ralibar away, and they all circled back around to see knights in armor holding lances and lining up on the far courtyard.

“The tournament begins!” Thorn yelled to her. “I must not be late!”

Gwen nodded and they all flew back towards King’s Court. The day’s tournaments and festivities were beginning, and she knew that also meant that people would be lining up to petition her. It was time to begin the daily business of ruling her kingdom. As always, it came too soon.

They both flew over King’s Court, the dragons flew together for a moment, and Thor reached out and took Gwen’s hand, leaned over and kissed it. Then they forked, each going their own way, Thor to the fields and Gwen to her castle. It was time for the day to begin.

Thor, in full armor, charged on his horse, galloping at full speed, his lance held out before him and his face plate down as he charged for his opponent. Charging him was a warrior from a land he’d never heard of, across the sea, wearing brown armor, a helmet with a long and pointed nose, his armor a strange combination of male and plate. His lance had strange markings, too, and as he aimed it for Thor’s chest, his lance longer, Thor concentrated with all his might, focusing on how best to defeat his opponent. Thor tuned in, tried to sense the vibrations of the ground beneath him; he felt the slight tremors, and he slowed things down his mind, until he felt the feelings of the horses, the weight of the riders, the angle of the lance. He sensed his opponent’s intentions. From his appearance, he appeared to be aiming high—yet Thor’s instinct told him he was going to aim low.

At the last moment, Thor adjusted accordingly, trusting his instincts, aiming his lance high, and dodging to the side. Thor’s lance impacted his opponent’s shoulder, knocking him back off his horse and sending him crashing to the ground in a great clang of metal.

There came a cheer from the crowd as his opponent rolled, bruised but unhurt.

Thor circled around, taking in the adulation from the huge crowd that lined up to watch the royal jousts, then jumped from his horse, made sure his opponent was okay, and extended a hand. The crowd cheered in approval as he did.

“I’ve never been defeated in battle,” the knight said. “Much less by someone younger than myself, or with a shorter lance. Well won!”

They clasped forearms, and they each led their horses by the reigns to the side of the grounds, making room for the next joust.

Thor was beginning to feel his muscles stiffening; it had been hours of jousting, a growing crowd lined up far and wide to watch the highlight of the day’s festivities. As Thor reached the side, Kendrick took his place, racing down the jousting lane and facing off against a knight whose armor came from a place Thor did not recognize.

The two charged, and Kendrick took out the soldier, to the cheers of the crowd. Thor cheered loudest of all.

Thor was elated to be here, on this day of the Summer Solstice, fighting with these great warriors, finally feeling as if he were one of them. For the first time, he no longer felt like an outsider.

Thor wanted to win on his own terms, as a regular warrior, with skills that matched others; he did not want to draw on his magical powers to influence his fight. So far, he had succeeded. While most of his friends had fallen, Thor had managed to make it to the final rounds of jousting, in the running with Kendrick, Erec, Conven, Elden, Reece, O’Connor, Brandt and Atme, along with several foreign knights. There were not many jousts left in the day.

A horn sounded and Thor watched a distant jousting lane and saw O’Connor charge against an opponent twice his size, from the southern province of the Ring; O’Connor missed his mark, and the opponent struck O’Connor in the gut, knocking him backwards off his horse. The crowd grunted and groaned as O’Connor hit the ground hard.

He lay there for a moment, and Thor worried if he was okay; but then O’Connor rose slowly to his feet and walked off. The crowd cheered for him. He was done with the tournament, but at least he was unhurt.

In the lane beside Thor, knights from distant lands charged each other. They met with a great battle cry, lances aimed high, and one screamed as a lance broke and a splinter pierced him through the throat. The crowd jeered, as it was a dirty move for the knight to strike so close to the throat, and dubiously legal.

The crowd groaned, horrified, as the knight fell off his horse, to the ground, writhing. Attendants rushed over to help him, to try to stop the bleeding, but within moments, he was dead.

A somber mood fell over the crowd as several attendants slowly pulled his body away. They all observed several moments of silence, Thor realizing once again just how dangerous these jousting games could be.

The soldier that had won, a massive fellow, twice as wide as the others, grabbed a new lance and turned and faced his next opponent. Thor’s heart pounded to see that he faced Elden.

Elden charged fearlessly for him, and Thor prayed he did not meet the same fate his last opponent had.

They charged, their bulk shaking the ground, their armor groaning, Elden letting out a great battle scream as he held his Lance before him. It seemed to Thor as if this knight were going to strike Elden and win; yet at the last moment, Elden twisted to the side, pointed his Lance at the knight’s armpit, and managed a direct hit.

The knight fell from his horse, rolling on the ground, and the crowd cheered as Elden had won.

As Elden rode his victory lap, proudly, taking in the cheers of the crowd, his opponent, behind him, threw off his helmet, exposing a face filled with rage. The knight charged at the unassuming Elden, reached up, grabbed him from behind, and yanked him down off his horse.

The crowd groaned and jeered at the cowardly move, and Thor, enraged, rushed forward to Elden’s aid, Reece, Conven, O’Connor and the other Legion at his side.

The knight jumped on top of Elden, raised a spear, and prepared to bring in down for Elden before he could react.

There came a snarling, and Krohn rushed forward, pouncing on the knight, knocking him down just before he could stab Elden.

The knight shook Krohn off, but it gave Elden time enough to roll around, reach back with his gauntlet and backhand the knight across the face.

There came a resounding crack as he broke the knight’s jaw and knocked him out, unconscious, just as Thor and the others appeared.

Elden stood, to the cheers of the crowd, and attendants rushed forward and dragged the unconscious knight away.

Thor and the others clasped Elden on the back, relieved that he was OK, and a horn sounded as the fighting resumed.

Fight after fight, the jousting went on and on. Thor could hardly believe how many warriors partook in this day’s festivities, representing all provinces of the Ring and dozens of countries from across the sea. The competition gave him a chance to test and hone his skills, and aside from one or two rotten apples, all the other knights fought with honor and respected the rules of the jousts.

The rounds continued, on and on. Elden eventually lost a joust, to a warrior twice his height, a knight who appeared to be invincible. But Kendrick took out that warrior the very next round.

As the second sun hung low in the sky, there eventually were but four warriors left in the competition: Thor, Kendrick, Erec, and a knight Thor did not know, a short stocky man, with black armor and menacing slits for eyes, who kept apart and who had not raised his visor once all day. Thor found himself facing him.

The two charged each other, Thor feeling all the eyes on him as the crowd roared in excitement. As they got closer, the sound of horses’ hooves rumbling in Thor’s ears, Thor prepared for impact—but something surprised him. His opponent raised his lance, and suddenly hurled it right at Thor.

Thor had not been expecting that. It sailed through the air, right for Thor’s head. At the last second, Thor’s reflexes kicked in, and he raised his shield just high enough to swat the lance away. At the same time Thor used his free hand to aim his own lance at the knight and strike him in the rib cage. The knight fell sideways from horse, tumbling down to the ground, and the crowd cheered.

Thor, breathing hard, shaken by how close he had come to losing, rode off to the side and turned and watched, as Kendrick and Erec, the last two aside from him, faced off with each other. He wondered which he would have to fight; neither would be easy.

The crowd thickened, as nearly everyone left in King’s Court crowded in to watch these two great knights, leaders of the Silver, famed warriors, whose songs had been sung are far and wide. They faced each other from far ends of the jousting lane, each with visors up, offering the other a salute of respect. Then they lowered their visors, raised their lances, their squires got out of the way, a horn sounded—and they charged.

The crowd was cheering as these two great warriors closed in on each other, their horses rumbling, raising up clouds of dust in the summer heat. Finally, they met in the middle with a clang, each knocking the other backwards.

The crowd groaned.

But neither of them fell off their horses, each of them good enough to be able to, somehow, hang on.

They each regained control, circled around, and, as the crowd cheered wildly, prepared to meet each other again. It was the first match of the day that had gone a second round.

Kendrick and Erec charged again, each ducking low, gaining incredible speed, holding their shining silver lances, the best the kingdom had, out before them. As they met, this time Erec raised his shield and blocked Kendrick’s lance. Erec’s shield was so strong that Kendrick’s lance snapped in two on impact. Erec, in turn, used the opportunity to aim his lance beneath Kendrick’s shield, striking him dead center in the chest and knocking him backwards off his horse.

The crowd cheered like wild as Erec circled around, jumped down from his horse, and gave Kendrick a hand up. They lifted their visors and Erec smiled down.

“Nicely fought,” Erec said. “If your lance had not broken, you would have won.”

Kendrick shook his head.

“You fought the better match,” he conceded. “Next time.”

Erec nodded, remounted his horse. Thor mounted his, realizing he’d be up against Erec.

Thor and Erec each circled around the entire perimeter of the jousting grounds, the final loop, as the crowd roared with a great cheer, chanting both Erec and Thorgrin’s names.

The two stopped at opposite ends of the jousting field, facing each other, and the crowd went wild. Thor felt nervous to face his old friend. He was determined to fight him on his own terms, and not to draw upon any of his powers. Thor wanted to see if he could win, as one man to another, one warrior to another.

They each lifted their faceplates in a gesture of respect, Thor facing off against his old mentor, a man he was once squire to. It was a funny feeling.

A horn sounded, and the two charged for each other. Thor focused with all his might and all his will, trying to drown out the screams of the crowd. He did not want to hurt Erec, and he tried to aim his lance for Erec’s chest, where the armor was thickest. But as he tried to focus, Thor realized that Erec was different than all the other opponents he’d faced. He was faster, harder to pin down, and his custom-forged silver armor, with all of its interchanging plates, shined in the light like the scales on a fish. It made it even more difficult for Thor to concentrate.

The two met in the middle, and Thor braced himself, as he felt for the first time that day the impact of a lance on his chest. Yet at the same time, Thor felt his own lance impacting Erec’s chest. The two of them hit each other at the same time and they each went flying backwards, off their horses.

The crowd groaned as each hit the ground at the same time. It was the first time of the day that had happened, and the rules of jousting demanded that if both fighters fell, then the fight must continue.

As Thor and Erec faced each other on foot, attendants ran out and handed each one a long mace with a studded wooden ball. They faced each other and charged.

The two of them fought hand-to-hand, slashing and blocking, maces clacking on armor. Thor knew that the rules demanded that whoever hit the ground first would lose—and he was determined not to lose.

But so was Erec.

Back and forth they fought, pushing each other forward and back; memories flooded back of Thor’s real battle with Erec, when he fought for Andronicus. Thor felt overwhelmed with guilt; he lost focus, and as he did, for a moment Erec got the better of him. Erec landed several blows and Thor stumbled back, nearly falling, the crowd cheering as it seemed he was finished.

Thor shook his head and cleared his mind. He had to stay focused and forget about the past, to let go of his guilt. This was just a tournament now, not real life. If he won, he would not be hurting Erec.

Thor rallied and pushed Erec back—but then Erec rallied and pushed him back. The two of them went blow for blow, until Thor’s arms grew tired, neither able to gain an advantage. They were well-matched. That alone made Thor proud, given that Erec was a veteran knight and Thor was years younger than he.

Erec brought his mace down in one great blow, and Thor turned his and blocked it. The maces locked, and Thor held it in place, his arm shaking against Erec’s great strength. He felt that in moments he would give way. He did not want to lose, not in front of all these people. Especially not in front of Gwendolyn, whom he knew was watching with everyone else. Thor dropped to one knee, arms shaking, barely hanging in there.

Thor closed his eyes, and involuntarily summoned a power from some deep place inside. Without trying to, his magic, his true power, suddenly surfaced. He felt himself gushing with energy, a heat racing through his body.

Thor stood in one burst of energy, raised his mace, and pushed Erec’s mace so that it went flying from his hand. Thor swung around in the same motion and struck Erec in the chest, and knocked him down, onto his back.

The crowd cheered like crazy, Thor the victor.

Thor lifted his visor, reached down, and gave Erec a hand up, feeling guilty.

The crowd came running in, all converging around him to embrace him.

“What happened to no magic?” Erec asked with a smile, goodheartedly.

“I’m sorry,” Thor said. “I did not mean to.”

Erec smiled wide, and Thor could see he was not upset.

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “You are a great warrior.”

The crowd closed in, hoisted Thor high up on their shoulders, and carried him off into the festivities. A chorus of horns sounded, and casks of ale and wine suddenly appeared, rolled out onto the fields by an army of attendants. The jousting fields instantly transformed into a field of festivity. More and more horns sounded, people drank and cheered, and it was clear the day’s festivities had begun.

Gwendolyn walked through the bustling crowd swarming in the rebuilt courtyard, thrilled to finally be out of King’s Castle, done with her official duties of the day, and out joining her people in the day’s revelries. After all, it was the day of the Summer Solstice, and a day like this only came once a year. It also coincided this year with the celebration of the reconstruction of King’s Court, and with the imminent celebration of her wedding. It would be a joyous year unlike any other—especially in the wake of such a year of darkness and gloom. Her people craved any occasion to rejoice, and they now had many of them.

Gwen took a deep breath on this beautiful summer day; she was determined to leave all the darkness behind her, and to rejoice with her people. The endless affairs of court could wait; she’d seen enough people already today. And now that the jousts were done and the horns had sounded, Gwendolyn was thrilled to finally have a chance to mingle with Thor.

Gwen was thrilled to see him so happy, and she had been so proud of him throughout the day, watching all of his jousts on pins and needles, cheering with the crowd, groaning when he was hit. She never doubted that he would win; he brought honor on himself, and on her, in everything he did. Even if he had lost, she would have loved him just the same.

Gwen held Thor’s hand, and the two of them walked through the crowd to the cheers of thousands of well-wishers, as Thor led her through the parting masses and up the steep wooden steps towards the high platform overlooking the court. Thor led her halfway, and then stopped; as queen, Gwendolyn walked the final steps alone, and took the stage alone.

Thor stood below, in the front row, looking up and watching with thousands of others, Reece, Kendrick, Godfrey, Erec, Steffen, Atme, Brandt, O’Connor, Elden, Conven, Aberthol and dozens of others at his side. The crowd grew silent as Aberthol slowly ascended the steps himself, leaning on his cane, seeming much older, each step an effort. In his other hand, he carried a long, tapered, unusual yellow sword, with a golden hilt.

Aberthol reached the stage and took his place beside Gwen, and the crowd grew silent. Thousands of people watched, transfixed, as Aberthol gingerly held out the long, yellow sword to Gwendolyn. She reached over, bowed her head, and took it from him carefully, grasping its golden hilt. It was the golden sword of summer, used once a year, every year, by kings, to initiate the Summer Solstice.

Gwen held the sword out before her and stood before a huge, round yellow fruit which hung from a rope before her. It dangled there, twice the size of a watermelon, bright yellow with white sparkling nubs, dazzling in the sun.

Aberthol turned and faced the crowd.

“The Summer Solstice is a precious day,” he boomed out, his voice raspy but able to be heard in the rapt air. “A day of powerful omens. A day that portends the year to come. A day honored and celebrated by kings for thousands of years. As our ruler slashes this water fruit, it signifies the bounties of summer should be showered on us all throughout the year. It portends the blessing of a good harvest. And yet we also destroy the fruit, to signify that nothing lasts forever, and that our ultimate security comes from the almighty above.”

Aberthol nodded and stepped aside.

Gwen examined the long, yellow sword, the one used by her father, and his father before him; it felt odd to be holding it. She remembered being a young girl and standing down there and watching each year, so anxious, hoping her father slashed the fruit just right, and that it was filled with water. She, like all people, wanted a good omen for the year to come.

Gwen took aim, her heart pounding, not wanting to miss, wanting to slash the fruit perfectly, as her father always did; he had always made it seem so effortless, showering all of his subjects with the bounty of the water fruit. She wanted this to be a good year and a good harvest, especially after all the darkness they had gone through.

Gwen breathed deep, raised the sword high, and brought it down with all her might, aiming for the center.

A perfect strike. She slashed the water fruit in half, and clear liquid gushed out of it in every direction, showering dozens of people in the crowd below.

There came a huge cheer, as horns sounded all up and down the courtyard, and people broke out into merriment. Musicians picked up their instruments, and the sound of trumpets and cymbals and horns and flutes and drums filled the air. Dancing broke out everywhere, strangers locking arms and spinning in jubilation.

The Summer Solstice had officially begun, and no time was wasted. Gwen looked down and saw tables already being rolled out everywhere, casks rolled up beside them, platters of meats and cheeses and fruits laid out as far as the eye could see. It would be a feast unlike any other.

Gwen looked up at the now-hollow fruit, swinging there, and as she examined it, she had a moment of dread: the inside of it, usually a bright yellow, was rotted to the core, black. She was the only one who could see it, from her angle, high up on the platform, and she quickly looked away. She did not want anyone else to see this, and she tried to push it from her mind, to pretend she never saw it. But it was, she knew, a terrible omen.

“Gwendolyn?”

Gwen looked over to see Thor standing there, smiling, hand outstretched; he had climbed the steps, and was waiting to help her back down.

Gwen put on a good face, and she forced herself to smile wide as she descended to the shouts and cheers of endless well-wishers, all of them embracing her, patting her on the back. Thor took her hand and she walked in a daze, filled with conflicting emotions, her stomach so large, as he led her past thousands of loyal and devoted subjects.

“They are enamored of you,” Thor said. “They don’t just admire you, they truly love you. Most unusual for a leader. You are like a mother to all of them, or a sister. You can see it in their eyes.”

Gwendolyn looked around, and she saw that Thor was right. She felt all of their love, and it was the greatest feeling of her life. She had never thought she’d be capable of ruling a kingdom. She had always assumed that it was only something a man could do.

“I love them back,” she replied.

Thor led her to a long feasting table in the midst of the courtyard, seated with all her family and council and dozens of nobles and lords and foreign dignitaries. Gwendolyn, ever the ruler, walked around the table, greeting each noble there, making a point to make everyone feel as welcome as possible.

Gwen spotted Kendrick and Sandara, Reece and Selese, seated beside Erec and Alistair, and she fell in beside them. Gwen had become so close to Thor’s sister these last moons, she already felt like a sister to her, like the sister she’d never had. Gwen had also become equally close to Selese, her sister-in-law to be. She had always been close to Reece, and anyone he loved, she knew she would love to. And she did love her, more than she ever expected, not out of fraternal obligation, but because she was discovering what an amazing person Selese was, and how devoted she was to her brother.

When Gwen had found out that she’d had the good fortune of being proposed to on the same day as Selese, she felt that it was meant to be, and had insisted that Selese and Reece share her joy, and be married together in a double wedding. Selese and Reece had been thrilled. The wedding preparations under way now were for all four of them, and in preparing and planning, Gwen had become as close to Selese as Alistair. In a way, it had been like she’d been given two sisters at once.

Gwen embraced her brothers, Kendrick and Reece, and looked about.

“Where’s Godfrey?” she asked Reece, realizing one of her brothers was missing.

“Where else?” Illepra remarked, shaking her head in frustration. “Drinking and having fun,” she added, and pointed across the courtyard.

Gwen turned and followed her gaze, and saw a stage being rolled to the center of the courtyard, Godfrey standing in its center, dressed in costume, Akorth and Fulton beside him, along with dozens of their tavern friends. A horn sounded, and the common folk began to gather about the stage.

“He’s incorrigible,” Illepra said. “I searched for him all morning, only to find him in one of the new taverns you ordered built. There are too many of them. King’s Court has become a drinking haven!” she said, laughing.

“The people need a reason to celebrate, and a place to forget their woes,” Gwen said, “as much as they need food and shelter.”

Gwen sighed.

“One cannot keep the people back from the taverns,” she added. “If you don’t build them, they will drink anyway, in private. At least now they can come together, and we can regulate them.”

“HEAR ALL AND ONE COME TOGETHER!” Godfrey yelled out, as the stage was rolled out front and center.

Musicians quieted, the jugglers and fire-throwers stopped, and the crowd pressed in more closely, milling about the stage, an eager anticipation in the air, eager to see another play by Godfrey and his men.

“And what do you have for us this time?” O’Connor called out to Godfrey.

Godfrey stepped aside to reveal a tall, thin actor, dressed in a scarlet robe and hood, who stepped forward, threw back his hood and scowled at the crowd.

“I am Rafi! A man to be feared!” the actor hissed.

The crowd booed and jeered.

Godfrey stumbled forward, his belly out before him, crumpling his face, doing his best to act mean.

“And I am Andronicus!” Godfrey said. “The most feared of all commanders!”

The crowd booed.

“No—wait!” Godfrey called out, stopping, confusion on his face. “I forgot: I am dead! And no one fears the dead!”

Godfrey suddenly slumped down, collapsed on the stage and did not move, and the crowd shouted out with laughter and relief.

The actor playing Rafi stood over him and held out his hands:

“Rise, Andronicus! I command you!”

Godfrey suddenly jumped to his feet, and the crowd booed. But he then chased Rafi around the stage and caught him and strangled him, pretending to throttle him to death. The two of them wrestled on stage, and the crowd howled with laughter.

Finally, Godfrey killed him and rose, victorious, and the crowd cheered.

Another actor, lean and unshaved, stepped forward, frowning.

“And who are you?” Godfrey asked.

“I am Gareth, the former king!” the actor said.

The crowd booed. As Gwen heard his name, it sent a chill through her spine. She flashed back to her killing him. She had no regrets—it was justice for her father. Yet still, the very thought of her former brother pained her. It was too fresh for her.

“And I, McCloud!” Akorth announced, rushing forward.

The crowd jeered, and threw tomatoes at him.

“You shall rule the Western Kingdom, and I shall rule the East!” McCloud said to Gareth.

They both reached out and clasped hands. But as they did, a woman stepped forward from the crowd, holding a long sword, and pretended to stab each of them through the chest. Each one sank to his knees, collapsing to the ground, dead.

The woman turned and faced the crowd, and raised her sword high.

“I am Gwendolyn, the greatest of all MacGil rulers!”

The crowd roared with approval, and Gwendolyn felt herself blush. She was overwhelmed with love for her people, but she also felt a deep sense of lingering sadness for all that transpired. Although six moons had passed, it all still felt like yesterday—and watching this farcical play somehow brought it all back.

“Excuse me,” Gwen said to Thor.

She turned away from the stage, unable to watch anymore, and made her way back to the table. Thor followed on her heels, taking her hand, looking over at her with a concerned expression.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded, wiping back a tear, and forced a big smile.

“It’s just the baby,” she said.

Thor looked down at her huge belly, and he understood.

“You should not be on your feet too long anyway,” he said.

He led her gently to her seat, and this time she sat. She needed to. She felt short of breath, especially on this hot day, and she took a long drink on her sack of water.

Thor sat beside her, and she soon felt better. They looked out, at the incredible bounty all around them, thousands of people eating in harmony, from all corners of the Ring, all corners of the Empire, here in the new King’s Court. It was like a dream.

“Did you ever imagine it would be as glorious as this?” Thor asked.

She shook her head.

“I dreamed. And I hoped. But no—not like this. Seeing it…it’s hard to believe.”

“You have built a greater city than even your father had, even at his peak. It is now invincible. Finally, these people have found peace, thanks to you. You should be very proud.”

Gwendolyn wanted to say: Yes. You are right. Peace has come, and it will last forever.

But she could not bring herself to utter the words. Deep down, something was gnawing at her, she was not sure what. She thought of the blackened fruit. She thought of Argon’s prophecies. She knew she should feel safe, and yet somehow she did not feel entirely settled. Some part of her could not forget Argon’s ominous words, that fateful choice she had made, back in the Netherworld, the sacrifice. His prophecy. Argon’s words rang in her head, like a stranger knocking at her door who would just not go away:

“It is when you feel most secure that you always have the most to fear.”