Morgan Rice: A Reign of Steel

“Will you stay, my friend?” she asked. “Or will you leave us again?”

He lowered his head and rubbed his nose against her hand as she held it out, blinking slowly and making an odd purring noise. She did not understand him; she never had, and she knew she never would. She never knew when he might disappear, or when he might come to her aid, despite how close the two had become. She had concluded that the ways of dragons were inscrutable to her.

She stroked Ralibar’s scales, his long nose—and at first he seemed content. But then he surprised her by suddenly flapping his great wings, shrieking and rising up into the air, his talons barely missing her head as he flapped.

She turned and watched him fly off into the horizon. She wondered where he was going, and if he would ever return. He was a greater mystery to her than ever.

Gwendolyn turned her attention to Argon’s limp body. She knelt down beside him and stroked his timeless face. It was frozen, cold to the touch.

“Argon,” she said. “Can you hear me?”

He did not move.

Gwendolyn turned, saw her men standing behind her, and raised a hand. She sensed that Argon needed to be alone with her.

“Please,” she said. “Leave us.”

Her men did as she commanded, and Gwen soon found herself kneeling alone on this plateau, beside Argon, the wind howling. She reached up and pulled back his hood, examining his face.

“Please, Argon,” she said. “Come back to me.”

Still, nothing.

Gwen felt a tear roll down her cheek; she felt a sense of impending doom, and she felt so helpless, and more alone than ever, here in this foreign place.

“I need you, Argon,” she pleaded. “Now, more than ever.”

There came a long silence, as a cold gust of wind stung her cheeks—then finally, the rain stopped. As it did, Gwen looked down and her heart soared to see Argon’s eyes fluttering.

Then, slowly he opened them.

Gwen’s heart leapt as he looked at her. His eyes shone with such intensity, she nearly had to look away. She stared down at him in wonder.

“Argon,” she said, laughing with relief, so overjoyed he was alive.

She reached down and clasped his hand with both of hers.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded gently, and she wondered.

“Where are you, Argon? Are you here with me?”

“Partly,” he replied.

She sensed that their time together was short, and that she might lose him again. She felt a burning desire to have her questions answered.

“Argon, your shield,” she said, “you must tell me: will it last? Please. Just answer me this. Will it last?”

There was a long silence, so long that Gwen suspected he would never reply.

And then, finally, Argon shook his head softly.

As he did, Gwen’s heart dropped.

“No,” he declared. “Even now, it is destroyed.”

Gwen’s heart plummeted as she pondered the ramifications. It meant that everything would be destroyed: this island, her people—everything. Her entire life, everyone she loved.

Her breath caught in her throat, as her hands trembled.

“Is there any way to restore it?” she asked. “Any way to protect this place?”

Argon shook his head weakly.

“My Shield—and the Ring—are destroyed forever.”

Gwen’s blood ran cold. She hardly knew what to say.

“Even now Romulus’s dragons approach,” Argon added. “And one million of his men.”

Gwen’s heart was pounding, and she found her hands running cold.

“How can we stop them?” she asked.

Argon shook his head.

“You can’t,” he said. “Soon, very soon, this island will be destroyed.”

Gwen burst into tears.

“And what of Thorgrin?” she asked, between tears. “Will he return to us? Will he help save us?”

Argon waited a long time, then finally shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “He has his own destiny.”

Gwendolyn found herself still crying, wiping back tears, despite her best efforts.

“And what of my baby?” she asked. “What of Guwayne?”

Argon remained silent, expressionless, as he closed his eyes. Gwen’s heart pounded, wondering if she’d lost him.

“Argon,” Gwen pleaded, clutching his arm, “answer me. Please. I beg you.”

Argon opened his eyes again and stared right at her.

“You made a choice,” he said. “In the Netherworld. I am sorry. But vows exact a toll.”

Gwen sobbed, unable to hold back her tears.

“You’re been a marvelous Queen,” he said. “Your people have lived far longer than they were destined. But even for the best of Queens, the time comes. You cannot always outrun destiny.”

Finally, Gwen, devastated, composed herself.

“Is there nothing left to do then but prepare to die?” she asked, desperate.

Argon was silent a long time, until finally, he nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But sometimes, that is all we have.”

Luanda stood on Romulus’s ship, not far from him, watching his back as he watched the sea, hands on hips, smiling, victorious. Luanda heard the incessant screeching, and she looked up and watched the host of dragons on the horizon, leading the way, disappearing as they headed north toward the Upper Isles, on their way to destroy her sister and all her people.

Romulus laughed and laughed as he led the fleet of ships, thousands of them, blanketing the sea like a school of fish, sailing away from the Ring for the Upper Isles. Luanda looked out at the horizon, and knew that she should feel satisfaction. After all, she had finally gotten what she’d wanted. The Ring was destroyed; she was avenged. Avenged for Bronson, avenged for her exile from King’s Court. Avenged for never being treated the way she deserved to be; avenged for being skipped over for the youngest. She had avenged herself on everyone who had doubted her, on everyone who had cast her off as meaningless.

But Luanda was surprised to realize that she did not feel triumphant; she did not even feel satisfaction. Instead, as she watched the events unfolding before her, she felt hollowed out—and a deep sense of regret. Now that her plans had become a reality, she could not help but admit that there was a part of her that still loved her people, that still wanted to be loved and accepted by them. That wanted them alive, that wanted things to be the way they used to be.

She had thought all this destruction would make her so happy. But now that there was nothing left, for some reason, she felt sad. She did not know why. Perhaps it was because with her people and land destroyed, there was nothing left to remember her time on earth. Nothing left that was familiar in the world. All that remained now was Romulus and his Empire—all these awful creatures.

As Luanda looked at Romulus’s broad back rippling with muscles, a commander at the height of his powers, ready to conquer every last inch of the world, a tremendous hatred for him built up inside her. He was to blame for all of this. She hated the way he treated her. Like a piece of property. She hated how subservient she had been forced to become to him. She despised everything about him.

Romulus’s soldiers were all preoccupied on deck, and Romulus stood alone at the bow of the boat, his back to all, Luanda the only one allowed to get close to him, hardly ten feet away. She glanced around one last time to make sure no one was looking, then, secretly she tightened her grip on the hilt of the dagger she kept hidden in her belt. She squeezed so hard, she could feel her knuckles turning white. She imagined herself strangling Romulus as she squeezed.

Luanda took a step forward, towards Romulus’s exposed back, a cold gust of wind and ocean spray striking her in the face.