A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring)

dreams. All he had wanted was
to be accepted, to be given a spot in the Legion. Now, this. He was so
overwhelmed with gratitude, with joy, he hardly knew what to do.
    Before
he could respond, suddenly the room broke into song and dance and feasting,
people celebrating all around him. It was mayhem. He looked up at the king, saw
the love in his eyes, the adoration and acceptance. He had never felt the love
of a father figure in his life. And now here he was, loved not just by a man,
but by the King no less. In one day, his world had changed. He only prayed that
all of this was real.
    *
    Gwendolyn
hurried through the crowd, pushing her way, wanting to catch sight of the boy
before he was ushered out of the royal court. Thor . Her heart beat
faster at the thought of him, and she could not stop turning his name over in
her mind. She had been unable to stop thinking about him from the moment she
had encountered him. He was younger than her, but not by more than a year or
two— and besides, he had an air about him that made him seem older, more mature
than the others, more profound. From the moment she had seen him, she felt she
had known him. She smiled to herself as she remembered meeting him, how
flustered he was. She could see in his eyes that he felt the same way about
her.
    Of
course, she did not even know the boy. But she had witnessed what he had done on
the jousting lane, had seen what a liking her younger brother had taken to him.
She had watched him ever since, sensing there was something special about him,
something different from the others. Meeting him had only confirmed it. He was
different from all these royal types, from all the people born and bred here.
There was something refreshingly genuine about him. He was an outsider. A
commoner. But oddly, with a royal bearing. It was as if he were too proud for
what he was.
    Gwen
made her way to the upper balcony’s edge and looked down: below was spread out
the royal court, and she caught a last glimpse of Thor as he was ushered out,
Reece by his side. They were surely heading to the barracks, to train with the
other boys. She felt a pang of regret, already wondering, scheming, how she
could arrange to see him again.
    Gwen
had to know more about him. She had to find out. For that, she would have to
speak to the one woman who knew everything about anyone and everything going on
in the kingdom: her mother.
    Gwen
turned and cut her way back through the crowd, twisting through the back
corridors of the castle she knew by heart. Her head spun. It had been a
dizzying day. First, the morning’s meeting with her father, his shocking news
that he wanted her to rule his kingdom. She was completely caught off guard,
had never expected it in a million years. She still could hardly process it
now. How could she ever possibly rule a kingdom? She pushed the thought from
her mind, hoping that day would never come. After all, her father was healthy
and strong, and more than anything, all she wanted was for him to live. To be
here with her. To be happy.
    But
she could not push the meeting from her mind. Somewhere, back there, lurking,
was the seed planted that one day, whenever that day should come, she would be next. She would succeed him. Not any of her brothers. But her. It
terrified her; it also gave her a sense of importance, of confidence, unlike
any she’d ever had. He had found her fit to rule— her —to be the wisest of
them all. She wondered why.
    It
also, in some ways, worried her. She assumed it would stir up a huge amount of
resentment and envy, her, a girl, being chosen to rule. Already she could feel
Gareth’s envy. And that scared her. She knew her older brother to be terribly
manipulative and completely unforgiving. He would stop at nothing to get what
he wanted, and she hated the idea of being in his sights. She had tried to talk
to him after the meeting, but he would not even look at her.
    Gwen
ran down the spiral staircase, her shoes echoing on the stone. She turned down
another corridor, passed through the rear chapel, through another door, past
several guards, and entered the private chambers of the castle. She had to
speak with her mother, whom she knew would be resting here. Her mother had
little tolerance for these long social affairs anymore—she liked to slip out to
her private chambers and rest as often as possible.
    Gwen
passed another guard, went down another hall, then finally stopped before the
door to her mother’s dressing room. She was