A Clash of Honor - By Morgan Rice Page 0,30

mounted the torch on the wall, and she and Thor lay on the pile of furs close to the flames. Krohn came up and sat a few feet away, near the fire. He faced the door, on guard, protecting them.

As Thor and Gwen sat beside each other, Gwen reached over, clasped his fingers between hers, and they leaned in and kissed. Thor felt her hand trembling, and he felt nervous himself. He caressed her cheek, and they held the kiss for a long time.

As Thor lay there with her, feeling overwhelmed with love for her, there were so many things he wanted to say. Most of all, there was something he wanted to ask. Something he needed to ask. He wanted to be with her forever, and he wanted her to know it.

“There is something I need to ask you,” he said, finally, his heart pounding.

But Gwen reached up, placed a single finger on his lips, and quieted him. She leaned in and kissed him.

“Now is not the time for words,” she said softly, smiling.

Thor did not resist as she kissed him again and again. Soon they were in each other’s arms, rolling in the furs, beside the crackling of the fire. It had already been a day beyond his wildest dreams, and being here, in Gwen’s arms, topped all of it. There was no place in the world he wanted to be more in this moment. He only prayed this night would never end.

*

Gwen swam in the Lake of Sorrows. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the water was clearer than she had ever seen it. As she swam she looked down, and beneath her there passed schools of fish, of the most brilliant colors she had ever seen—bright blue and pink and yellow—swimming all around her. They swam past, and she looked towards the bottom, and saw that the sands below were all lined with gold. Gold was everywhere, lining the lake floor, and it sparkled as she went, sending a million reflections of light through the water.

Gwen decided to dive down, deeper and deeper, determined to grab some, to bring it back. But the deeper she went, the farther away the bottom became. Soon, it disappeared completely.

Gwen blinked, and when she opened her eyes, she found herself standing atop a hill. She was in a desolate landscape which she recognized immediately as Argon’s. But as she looked, his cottage was nowhere in sight; in fact, there was nothing as far as the eye could see. There was only the howling of the wind over the rocks.

She suddenly felt movement inside her stomach, and she looked down and was shocked to see that her belly was swollen, sticking all the way out. She was pregnant.

She reached down and felt her stomach with both hands. As she did, she was startled to feel a kick.

She suddenly heard Argon’s voice:

“You carry within you a great being,” he said.

Gwendolyn looked down and welled with tears, knowing what he said to be true. With both hands she caressed her stomach, wanting to send it love, feeling the power radiating from within her. It kicked back.

Gwen opened her eyes and looked all around, breathing hard, wondering where she was. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she saw that she lay in Thor’s arms, in the pile of furs, in her mother’s castle, beside the dying embers of the fire. She turned and saw the first light of dawn breaking through the window, saw Krohn lying asleep, close by, and realized it was all a dream.

Gwen rose, gently extricating herself from Thor, who was sound asleep, and walked over to the open air window. As she did, she looked down and rubbed a single hand over her stomach. Nothing had changed.

Yet somehow, she felt different inside. She felt an energy coursing through her. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow she felt as if she had changed forever.

And in that moment she knew, she just knew, that she was carrying Thor’s child.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

King McCloud fumed as he marched across the plaza before his castle, riddled with his injured and defeated soldiers. Everywhere, his men lay about, moaning, bleeding; those that weren’t hurt, sat on the ground, dejected. It was enough to make him sick. Never mind that they had just had a hundred days of unprecedented victories, of spoils, of a reach into the MacGil side deeper than any of his ancestors. Now all that these men would remember would be their defeat, the loss

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