Wilam was still angry and would have gladly continued fighting but Gwendolyn had come down when she heard the steward screaming in rage. As soon as Wilam saw her, his blood lust evaporated and he stood still.
“Clean up the mess,” Gwendolyn said icily.
Then she spun on her heel and marched back up to her rooms, her gown billowing out behind her and Andomina following silently behind. Wilam was unsure what to do. He turned and left the hall, stopping at a barrel of fresh water to wash himself. Then he sent word for his officers to join him.
The next day their small army assembled in the courtyard. The cavalry from Ortis would lead the army, followed by Gwendolyn and Andomina in their carriage and then by the foot soldiers and supply wagons. Wilam had not returned to the Castle that night. He normally slept in a small anteroom outside of Gwendolyn’s quarters, in case she needed him in the night. But after killing Keevy, who had served as Gwendolyn’s steward since she arrived at the Castle on the Sea, he was ashamed. Even though he would gladly have killed any number of men just to get close to Gwendolyn, his sense of honor was shaken that he had given into his rage and killed a civilian as helpless as Keevy. He didn’t miss the steward-they had been enemies since their first encounter-but he had never lost control like that before and he didn’t like the result.
He organized the army and then waited with his troops until Gwendolyn was ready to leave. When Gwendolyn and her sister finally came out of the Castle, they went directly into their large, wooden wagon, outfitted with thick drapes and padded benches. Gwendolyn didn’t speak to anyone, so Prince Wilam ordered the army to set out.
They marched without stopping until sunset. It was a hot and dusty day, but they were traveling on the coastal road, and the wind off the Great Sea of Kings was cool. At dusk they made camp, pitching tents and starting fires. Food was taken to Gwendolyn’s carriage, but neither she nor her sister Andomina were seen.
They broke camp shortly after dawn and continued their trek. It took three days to reach Blue Harbor, where the army of Ortis, a little over two full legions, was camped around the city. Wilam rode at the head of the cavalry, and ordered the column to stop when he could see the sprawling army from Ortis. He rode back to the carriage and gave Gwendolyn the news.
“I need my horse,” she said from inside her wagon. “And have my tent set up where I can meet with the King and his generals.”
“Yes, my lady,” said Wilam, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Prince Wilam was so afraid that even putting one foot in front of the other was difficult. Questions were swarming around his brain like a hive of angry bees. Would Gwendolyn reject him in favor of King Oveer? What about the generals, would she give them leadership of the army? And what if King Oveer or his troops weren’t convinced to join them? Their small army could be massacred, and Wilam might not be able to protect his Queen.
Still, his sense of duty propelled him forward. He had Gwendolyn’s tent set up and made sure that a squad of his most capable men were set to guard it. Then he retrieved the horse that they had brought along specifically for Gwendolyn to ride. The horse was white all over. The skilled saddle makers in Lodenhime had crafted a fine leather saddle that was pale ivory. When Prince Wilam had saddled the horse and ensured that everything was just the way Gwendolyn wanted it, he led the horse to Gwendolyn’s carriage.
“Your Highness,” he called. “Your horse awaits you.”
Gwendolyn opened the door of her carriage and stepped out. She was wearing an ivory gown that showed off her figure. She moved her feet lightly from the carriage step into the stirrup and sat down gracefully on the saddle.
“Let’s go meet the King,” she said playfully.
Wilam rode beside Gwendolyn, and the Ortis cavalry soldiers fell in behind them, their armor, polished especially for this meeting, glinting in the afternoon sunlight. They rode along the path toward the army encampment and were met by a small group of knights who had been riding out to find out who they were.
“We wish to see King Oveer,” Wilam told the knights.
“Who wishes to see the King?” the lead knight said.
“Queen Gwendolyn of Lodenhime,” Wilam said, “and Prince Wilam Felixson, of Yelsia.”
The knight nodded and turned his horse. Then he led Wilam and Gwendolyn to the large tent where King Oveer had been lounging for the past week. They waited patiently as the group of soldiers around Gwendolyn grew and grew. She did not even speak, but the men jostled to get near her.
“What is this?” came a frustrated voice from inside the tent.
King Oveer was a short man with long brown hair and a full beard. His crown was propped back on his head when he emerged from the tent, and his clothes were wrinkled. He wore a sword, but it was buckled too high on his hip to be useful, and the hilt was encrusted with precious gems.
“Prince Wilam is wanted for treason,” King Oveer said loudly, as he looked up at Wilam.
Oveer and Wilam had met in the Grand City, but the King couldn’t say for sure that this Wilam was in fact the Prince of Yelsia who had gone missing before the Council of Kings. Oveer rarely paid much attention to anyone but other kings.
“Arrest him and send for the executioner,” he added, trying to sound more royal than he did.
“No,” said Gwendolyn, “that won’t be necessary.”
None of the men around her moved. Normally the order of a king, even one as pompous and unpopular as Oveer, would have sent men scrambling to obey, but Gwendolyn held them all in her spell.
“And who exactly are you?” Oveer thundered, furious for having been countermanded. “There is no queen in Lodenhime, unless you’re Zorlan’s latest excuse for a wife.”
The men around Oveer started to grumble, taking offense at their King’s insult, but Gwendolyn didn’t seem to mind. She slid off her horse and stepped in front of King Oveer, whose eyes narrowed angrily at first and then slowly relaxed.
“I require your assistance,” Gwendolyn said. “I need an army and capable commanders. I was hoping you might be persuaded to join me.”
“My lady,” Oveer stammered, suddenly at a loss for words. “I am sorry, please forgive me. I don’t know what got into me. An army, you say?”
“That’s right, King Oveer. I want your army,” she said in a pouting voice. “Will you give it to me? I’d be ever so grateful.”
“Of course,” Oveer said. “Anything you want, anything at all.”
“That is so generous of you,” she said raising one hand and allowing King Oveer to bow forward and kiss it.
The gesture made Wilam’s blood boil. As far as he knew, he was the only person to have touched Gwendolyn’s fair skin. She occasionally allowed him to rub her shoulders or her feet. The small gestures made him feel as if she cared for Wilam more than anyone else, and now she was giving her hand to the fumbling King of Ortis.
“Gather your generals,” Gwendolyn told Oveer, “and meet me at my tent in one hour. Can you do that?”
“Of course, my lady,” Oveer promised.
“Good, then perhaps we can finalize our plans. I would like to move as soon as possible. Your camp smells dreadful.”
“It’s the heat,” Oveer said in a lame attempt to excuse the stench of the army’s camp. “And Blue Harbor is full of raw fish. We shall ensure that not a breath of wind carries to your tent, my love.”
Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed angrily in response to the King’s last endearment, but then she brought herself swiftly under control, although her voice carried an icy tone that was hard to mistake.
“Good, that would be a welcome change,” she said. “Do not keep me waiting, King Oveer. I am not a patient person.”
“We shall make haste,” the King said.
Gwendolyn reached up, and Wilam extended his hand to help her back onto her horse. She climbed into the saddle lightly and then turned her horse. The men who had crowded close to see her now parted so that she could ride back toward the carriage and her tent. They cheered for her and called out for her attention as she rode. Their unbridled fervor to be near the witch made Wilam uncomfortable. He rode with one hand on the pommel of his sword just in case he needed it.