by Morgan Rice
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.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Darius stood with all his brothers and villagers as dawn broke over the village, Loti at his side, Dray at his heels, all the elders around him, and he looked out at the sight before him: there was the strength of the Empire, hundreds of soldiers returning, line up on zertas, facing them. The day of retribution had come.
Darius stood there, his back still raw, killing him, feeling hollowed out. Knowing what his village demanded of him, he hadn’t slept all night, tormented. He stood there now, bleary-eyed, knowing they demanded he give up Loti so his people could go on living.
But Darius knew that if he did that, if he did what they asked, then he himself could not go on living. Something inside him would be dead; something inside all of them would be dead. This, this self-preservation, might be the way of his elders, but it was not his way. It would never be his way.
The Empire commander came forth on his zerta, leading an entourage of a dozen soldiers, his hundreds of soldiers lined up in rows behind him in the early morning light, and he stopped but fifty feet away from Darius. He dismounted and walked forward in the dirt, his spurs jingling, heading right for Darius.
Dray began to snarl, and Darius lay a hand on his head, and turned, squatted and looked him in the eye.
“Dray,” he commanded urgently. “Remember what we talked about. You are to stay here. Do you understand?”
Finally, Dray fell quiet, and as he looked into Darius’ eyes, Darius felt that he did indeed understand.
Darius turned and glanced at Loti, and he could see the fear in her face as she looked back at him. She nodded at him, squeezed his hand with a firm grip.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Give me up to them. I wish to die. For you. For all of you.”
He shook his head quickly, and leaned down and kissed her hand.
Then he turned and walked off, alone, one man to face the Empire.
The commander stopped, waiting, as Darius walked up to him and stopped before him. Darius glared back at him with hatred, feeling the lashes on his back, feeling the cold breeze on the back of his neck where his hair had been chopped off. He felt hatred. Yet he also felt like a new man, reborn.
He stood a few feet away from the Empire commander, who glared down at him mercilessly.
“It is a new day,” he boomed to Darius and the villagers. “You have one chance now. You will name the victim of this crime, we will maim you all, and you all shall live.”
The commander paused.
“Or,” the commander boomed, “you can remain silent, and we will kill you all, torturing each one of you slowly, beginning with you.”
Darius stood there, staring back, resolute. He felt the gentle wind of the desert as his world narrowed, came into focus, his heart thumping in his ears. As all grew silent, in the distance he saw a small thorn bush roll along the desert floor. He heard its rattle, a strangely soothing sound. Time slowed as he sensed every detail in the world. Every detail which he knew could be his last.
Darius nodded slowly back at the commander.
“I am going to give you exactly what you came for,” he said.
Darius knew that if he did not hand Loti over, if he defied them, it would be a battle they could not win. He would give up his life for loyalty, for honor. For justice. He would defy the law of his elders. He would defy them all.
The Empire commander smiled wide, bracing himself.
“So who among you was it?” he demanded. “Which one of you killed our taskmaster?”
Darius stared back, his heart pounding, expressionless, yet shaking inside.
“Come close, Commander, and I will tell you his name.”
The commander took a step closer, and in that moment, Darius’s entire world froze. With trembling hands, he reached down, pulled a dagger from his belt, a steel dagger, real steel, which the smith had given him and he had hidden away. He lunged forward, and he could hear the horrified gasp of his elders, his people, as he plunged the knife, up to the hilt, deep into the commander’s chest.
The commander, wide-eyed with shock, dropped to his knees, as if unbelieving that such a thing could happen.
“The offender’s name is a name you shall never, ever forget,” Darius said, sneering down. “His name is Darius.”
COMING SOON!
BOOK #14 IN THE SORCERER’S RING
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Books by Morgan Rice
THE SORCERER’S RING
A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1)
A MARCH OF KINGS (Book #2)
A FATE OF DRAGONS (Book #3)
A CRY OF HONOR (Book #4)
A VOW OF GLORY (Book #5)
A CHARGE OF VALOR (Book #6)
A RITE OF SWORDS (Book #7)
A GRANT OF ARMS (Book #8)
A SKY OF SPELLS (Book #9)
A SEA OF SHIELDS (Book #10)
A REIGN OF STEEL (Book #11)
A LAND OF FIRE (Book #12)
A RULE OF QUEENS (Book #13)
THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY
ARENA ONE: SLAVERSUNNERS (Book #1)
ARENA TWO (Book #2)
THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS
TURNED (Book #1)
LOVED (Book #2)
BETRAYED (Book #3)
DESTINED (Book #4)
DESIRED (Book #5)
BETROTHED (Book #6)
VOWED (Book #7)
FOUND (Book #8)
RESURRECTED (Book #9)
CRAVED (Book #10)
FATED (Book #11)
About Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling author of THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, a young adult series comprising eleven books (and counting); the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising two books (and counting); and the #1 bestselling epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising thirteen books (and counting).
Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations of the books are available in German, French, Italian, Spanish, Portugese, Japanese, Chinese, Swedish, Dutch, Turkish, Hungarian, Czech and Slovak (with more languages forthcoming).
TURNED (Book #1 in the Vampire Journals) and A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1 in the Sorcerer’s Ring) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
Morgan loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.morganricebooks.com to join the email list, receive a free book, receive free giveaways, download the free app, get the latest exclusive news, connect on Facebook and Twitter, and stay in touch!