A Feast of Dragons - By Morgan Rice Page 0,65

right in the world.

For the first time since her father’s death, she felt a sense of optimism. She had awakened before the dawn, and had waited with anticipation the tolling of the bells, announcing the return of the Legion. She waited and watched the horizon for hours, and below her, as the day broke, she could see crowds already beginning to form in the streets below, preparing for the parades to welcome them back.

Gwen was overjoyed with excitement. Today was the day Thor would return to her.

She had been up all night, counting the minutes till sunrise. She could hardly believe it had finally come. Today, Thor was returning. All would be right again in the world.

She also felt a sense of joy, of accomplishment, that Kendrick had not been executed. Somehow, her meeting had gotten through to her mother. She hated the idea of his wallowing in the dungeon, and every day she thought of ways to get him out, but for now, at least she had kept him alive.

She was determined to prove who murdered her father, but had been unable over the last hundred days, despite her efforts, to find any new leads. Godfrey, too, had reached a dead end. They were both blocked at every turn. Gwendolyn felt increasingly threatened under Gareth’s watchful eye, his multitude of spies; she felt less safe in the castle as days went by. She winced as she thought of the scar Gareth’s assassin had left on her cheek; it was light, hard to see except in direct sunlight, looking more like a scratch—but nonetheless, it was there. Every time she looked in the mirror, she saw it, and she remembered. She knew she had to make a change, and make one soon. Gareth was becoming more unhinged with each passing day, and there was no telling what he might do.

But now that Thor was returning, now that the Legion would be home, including her younger brother Reese, she no longer felt so alone with all of this. Change was in the air, and the status quo would not remain the same. She felt it would only be a matter of time until she found a way to release her brother. And most importantly, she could now be with Thor permanently. She had not spoken to her mother since that last fateful meeting, and she suspected she would not talk to her again; yet at least she was no longer an obstacle between her and Thor.

Gwen watched the horizon. In the far distance, beyond the Canyon, she saw the faintest glimmer of the ocean, and looked for any signs of sails. She knew it was overly optimistic to be able to spot them from this far away, and even once they landed, they were still a half day’s ride away. But she could not help but watch. All around her, the bells tolled. She had worn her finest white silks for the day. A part of her wanted Thor to take her away from here, from all this, from all this castle maneuvering, to a place where they could be safe. To have a new life somewhere. With him. She did not know what or where. But she knew she needed to start again.

“Gwendolyn?” came a voice.

She spun, jolted from her thoughts, and to her surprise saw a man standing there, a few feet away. He had snuck up on her, and worse, it was a man that she despised. Not a man—a boy.

Alton. The very face of duplicity, of aristocracy, of everything wrong with this place.

He stood there, looking so arrogant, so self-assured, dressed in his silly outfit, wearing an ascot even in the fall, and she despised him more than ever. She was everything he hated in a man. She was still furious at him for misleading her, for telling her all those lies about Thor that nearly broke them apart. He had made a fool of her. She had vowed to never set eyes on him again—not that she liked him to begin with.

Thus far she had been successful. Months had passed since she had seen him last, and she could not believe he had the audacity to come out of the woodwork now, to be standing here. She wondered how he’d even got up here, how he slipped past the guards. He must have used his nonsense line about being royalty, and they must have believed it. He could be very convincing, even in his lies.

“What are

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