Morgan Rice: A Reign of Steel

She could see he was contrite, and her expression softened.

“But I must say, you were not wrong to kill Tirus,” she admitted. “He deserved it long ago. In fact, it is I who must apologize for not killing him sooner.”

Reece looked up at her, nodding back with a new understanding and respect.

Cheers suddenly rose up from down below, and Gwen looked out the window to see thousands of her people, those whom she had evacuated from the Ring, filling the courtyards, entering the deserted homes and taverns, taking homes for themselves.

“Our people seem happy to be here,” Godfrey said.

“They are happy to be alive,” Gwen corrected. “Life here is better than no life at all.”

“You should be very proud, my sister,” Kendrick said. “You saved them.”

Gwen nodded, but sighed, her heart heavy as she pondered all that they left behind—and all of the looming dangers.

“This could be a new home for us,” Godfrey said.

Gwen shook her head.

“I would like to think so,” she said. “But we’re only safe here as long as Argon’s shield holds. But if Argon’s spell should falter, then all you see here is fleeting. Then there will be nothing in the world that can stop the devastation that would come.”

“But surely Romulus will be content with what he has,” Godfrey said. “After all, he has the Ring now. He has everything he wants.”

Gwendolyn shook her head, knowing Romulus too well.

“The Ring was never what he wanted,” she said. “What he’s wanted, what they’ve always wanted, is our complete destruction. And he will follow us to the ends of the earth to have it.”

“And what are the chances of Argon’s shield holding then?” Kendrick asked.

“Only Argon can say,” Gwen said.

“You know him best,” Reece said. “Will he waken?”

Gwendolyn turned to him.

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said, determined to go and find out.

Reece stood with Stara atop the highest cliffs of the Upper Isles, the two of them having hiked here together in silence. With everything now at peace in the Upper Isles, there was little left to do but settle in, and perhaps wait for the invasion to come. The feeling in the air was peaceful—and somber—and when Stara had asked Reece if he’d wanted to take a walk, he was quick to agree. He needed something to distract him from the events that might come—and deep down, a part of him, he had to admit, wanted to be with her. He hated himself for it, and yet he had to admit it was true. They had been through too much together for it to be otherwise.

Yet neither of them had said a word since. They had hiked for nearly an hour, and it became clear to them both that, while they were comfortable with each other’s company, this was not a romantic walk. It was a somber walk, a walk of reflection, of understanding.

Reece looked about and found it ironic that the same island they had hiked but moons ago, once overflowing with summer bounty, was now whipped by a cold, bleak wind, blanketed by a gray sky with dark, rolling clouds. Could life change so quickly? he wondered. Could anyone hang onto anything?

Reece began to feel uncomfortable in their heavy silence; he didn’t know what to say to her. She apparently had nothing to say to him either, and he began to wonder why she wanted to take the walk at all. He had gone with her to get away from all the death that had surrounded him, to clear his mind.

As they reached the highest plateau of the cliffs, they finally came to a stop beside a small lake, from which there trickled a gentle stream, winding its way down the mountain.

Reece watched, puzzled, as Stara knelt down, reached into her sack, and pulled out a large black flower shaped like a bowl, with a small candle in its center. He wondered what she was doing.

“Is that a mourning candle?” he asked.

Stara nodded.

“I know that things can never be the same between us,” she said softly, her voice somber. “That is not why I invited you here. I invited you up here to tell you that I’m sorry for all that happened to Selese. Most of all, I want to tell Selese that I’m sorry, too. Wherever she is.”

Reece looked down in shame, as his eyes welled with tears.

“I never meant for anything bad to become her,” Stara said. “You must believe me. I need you to believe me.”

Reece nodded.

“I do,” he said. “And I never meant for anything bad, either,” he said, as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“And yet, I was selfish,” she said, “selfish to try to steal you away. My actions were selfish. And they were wrong.”

She sighed.

“They say if you light a mourning candle here, in this pond, and the current takes it down the stream of tears, it will provide solace to the dead,” she said. “That is why I invited you here.”

Stara took out two flint rocks and lit the candle with the spark. It glowed in the center of the black flower, eerie and surreal.

She held it out to Reece.

“Do you want to place it?” she asked.

Reece gently took the flower from her, the candle burning inside, and their fingers touched as he did. Then he knelt down and gently placed it into the small pond. The waters were icy to his fingers.

Reece stood beside Stara and watched as it floated in the pond. It went nowhere, as there was no breeze up here in this sheltered spot.

“Selese,” Reece said, lowering his head. “I love you. Please forgive me.”

“Please forgive us,” Stara added.

The flower began to float out, just a little bit further, yet it was still not picked up by the stream.

“I know we can never be together,” Stara said to Reece. “Not after all this. But at least we can be together in this—in our mourning for Selese.”

Stara held out one hand, and Reece took it. They stood there, side-by-side, staring out at the candle, as they lowered their heads and closed their eyes.

Reece prayed for blessings for Selese. And most of all, for forgiveness.

Reece opened his eyes as suddenly a wind picked up, and he watched in surprise as the flower suddenly moved, shifting across the pond before being picked up by the current.

Reece watched in amazement as the current took it into the Stream of Tears. It wound its way down the mountain, twisting and turning.

Reece turned and watched as the water carried it down the mountain face, until finally it was out of sight.

Reece turned to look at Stara, and she turned and looked at him. They continue to hold hands—and for some reason, despite their best efforts, neither seemed able to let go.

Gwendolyn walked across quickly across the courtyard of her new court, flanked by several of her men. She proceeded through the ancient, stone gates out of the courtyard, and took winding, rocky paths into the countryside, bracing herself against the wind and the rain. But she would not stop for anything. She was determined to see Argon and, once again, to see if she could rouse him.

The path finally led her up a small hill, and as Gwendolyn looked up, she was reassured at the sight of Ralibar. He had finally returned, depositing Argon’s limp body, and had sat guard over it ever since.

Gwendolyn reached the top of the plateau, a cold gust of wind whipping her face, and she looked up at Ralibar. He sat there, wings held out, staring back at her as he sat guard over the body of Argon, who lay at his feet, unmoving.

Gwendolyn looked up into Ralibar’s soulful eyes.

“Where have you been, my friend?” she asked. “We could have used you in the open sea.”

Ralibar purred, flapped his wings gently, and moved his nose up and down. She could feel him going through one of his moods, an emotional storm. She knew he was distraught by something, but she could not understand what he was communicating.