A Rule of Queens (Book #13 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice

drinking.”
    Godfrey felt his stomach turning; she always
seemed to find the worst in him.
    “I see many of my people sitting here drinking,”
he replied, “and god bless them for it. What’s the harm in that?”
    “They’re not all drinking,” Illepra
said. “At least not as much as you.”
    “And what is it to you?” Godfrey retorted.
    “With half our people sick, do you think now is
the time to drink and laugh the night away?”
    “What better time?” he retorted.
    She frowned.
    “Wrong,” she said. “It is time for repentance.
A time for fasting and prayer.”
    Godfrey shook his head.
    “My prayers to the gods have always gone
unanswered,” he replied. “As for fasting—we did enough of that aboard ship. Now
is the time to eat.”
    He reached over, grabbing a chicken bone being
passed around, and took a big bite, chewing defiantly in her face. The grease ran
down his chin, but he did not wipe it and did not look away as she stared down
at him in icy disapproval.
    Illepra looked down on him with scorn, and
slowly shook her head.
    “You were a man once. Even if briefly. Back in
King’s Court. More than a man—you were a hero. You stayed behind and protected
Gwendolyn in the city. You helped save her life. You kept back the McClouds. I
thought you had…become someone else.
    “But here you are. Making jokes and drinking
the night away. Like the boy you’ve always been.”
    Godfrey was upset now, his buzz and sense of
relaxation quickly fading.
    “And what would you have me do?” he retorted,
annoyed. “Get up from my spot here and run off into the horizon and defeat the
Empire alone?”
    Akorth and Fulton laughed, and the villagers laughed
with him.
    Illepra reddened and shook her head.
    “You haven’t changed,” she said. “You’ve crossed
half the world and you still haven’t changed.”
    “I am who I am,” Godfrey said. “An ocean voyage
won’t change that.”
    Her eyes narrowed in rebuke.
    “I loved you once,” she said. “Now, I feel
nothing for you. Nothing at all. You are a disappointment to me.”
    She turned and stormed off, and the men laughed
and grunted around Godfrey.
    “I see women are no different even on the other
side of the sea,” one villager said, and they all broke out into laughter.
    But Godfrey was not laughing. She had hurt him.
And he was starting to realize, even in his drunken haze, that perhaps Illepra
meant something to him after all.
    Godfrey reached over, snatched the bowl, and
took another long swig.
    “Here’s to heroes!” he said. “God knows I’m not
one of them.”
    *
    Gwendolyn sat before the bonfire, joined by
Kendrick, Brandt, Atme, Aberthol, and a dozen knights of the Silver; alongside
them sat Bokbu, along with the dozen elders and dozens of villagers. The elders
were engaged in a long discussion with Gwen, and as she stared into the flames,
she tried to be polite and listen, Krohn laying his head in her lap as she fed
him small pieces of meat. The elders had been going on for hours, seemingly
thrilled with the chance to talk to an outsider, venting about their problems
with the Empire, their village, their people.
    Gwendolyn tried to concentrate. But a part of
her was distracted, thinking of nothing but Thor and Guwayne, hoping and
praying for their safety, for their return to her. On this night of the fires,
she prayed with all their heart for them to come back to her, for her to have
another chance. She prayed for a message, a sign, anything to let her know that
they were safe.
    “My lady?”
    Gwen turned to see Bokbu staring back at her.
    “Your thoughts on the matter?” he asked.
    Gwen snapped out of it.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “Can you ask me again?”
    Bokbu cleared his throat, clearly compassionate
and understanding.
    “I had been explaining the ways of my people.
Of our life here. You had asked me what a day is like. A day begins in the
fields and ends when the sun falls. The taskmasters of the Empire take us