Chapter Six
Gwendolyn rode in the back of the carriage, jostling along the country road, leading the expedition of people that wound its way slowly west, away from King’s Court. Gwendolyn was pleased with the evacuation, which had been orderly thus far, and pleased with the progress her people had made. She hated leaving her city behind, but she was confident at least that they’d gained enough distance for her people to be safe, to be well on their way to her ultimate mission: to cross the Western Crossing of the Canyon, to board her fleet of ships on the shores of the Tartuvian, and to cross the great ocean for the Upper Isles. It was the only way, she knew, to keep her people safe.
As they marched, thousands of her people on foot all around her, thousands of others jostling in their carts, the sound of horses’ hooves filled Gwen’s ears, the sound of the steady motion of carts, of humanity. Gwen found herself getting lost in the monotony of the trek, holding Guwayne to her chest, rocking him. Beside her sat Steffen and Illepra, accompanying her the entire way.
Gwendolyn looked out to the road before her and tried to imagine herself anywhere but here. She had worked so hard to rebuild this kingdom, and now here she was, fleeing from it. She was executing her mass evacuation plan because of the McCloud invasion – but more importantly, because of all of the ancient prophecies, of Argon’s hints, because of her own dreams and feelings of pending doom. But what if, she wondered, she was wrong? What if it was all just a dream, just worries in the night? What if everything in the Ring would be fine? What if this was an overreaction, an unnecessary evacuation? After all, she could evacuate her people to another city within the Ring, like Silesia. She did not have to take them across an ocean.
Not unless she foresaw a complete and entire destruction of the Ring. Yet from everything she’d read and heard and felt, that destruction was imminent. Evacuation was the only way, she assured herself.
As Gwen looked to the horizon, she wished Thor could be here, at her side. She looked up and scanned the skies, wondering where he was now. Had he found the Land of the Druids? Had he found his mother? Would he return for her?
And would they ever marry?
Gwen looked down into Guwayne’s eyes, and she saw Thor looking back at her, saw Thor’s grey eyes, and she held her son tighter. She tried not to think of the sacrifice she’d had to make in the Netherworld. Would it all come true? Would the fates be so cruel?
“My lady?”
Gwen started at the voice; she turned and looked to see Steffen, turning in the cart, pointing up to the sky. She noticed that all around her, her people were stopping, and she suddenly felt her own carriage jostled to a halt. She was puzzled as to why the driver would stop without her command.
Gwen followed Steffen’s finger, and there, on the horizon, she was shocked to see three arrows shot up high into the air, all aflame, rising, then arching downward, falling to the ground like shooting stars. She was shocked: three arrows aflame could mean only one thing: it was the sign of the MacGils. The claws of the falcon, used to signal victory. It was a sign used by her father and his father before him, a sign meant only for the MacGils. There was no mistaking it: it meant the MacGils had won. They had taken back King’s Court.
But how was it possible? she wondered. When they’d left, there was no hope of victory, much less survival, her precious city overrun by McClouds, with no one left to stand guard.
Gwen spotted, on the distant horizon, a banner being raised, higher and higher. She squinted, and again there was no mistake: it was the banner of the MacGils. It could only mean that King’s Court was now back in the hands of the MacGils.
On the one hand, Gwen felt elated, and wanted to return at once. On the other hand, as she looked at the road they had traveled, she thought of all Argon’s predictions, of the scrolls she had read, of her own premonitions. She felt, deep down, that her people still needed to be evacuated. Perhaps the MacGils had recaptured King’s Court; but that did not mean that the Ring was safe. Gwendolyn still felt certain that something much worse was coming, and that she had to get her people out of here, to safety.
“It seems we have won,” Steffen said.
“A cause for celebration!” Aberthol called out, approaching her cart.
“King’s Court is ours again!” called out a commoner.
A great cheer arose amongst her people.
“We must turn back immediately!” called out another.
Another cheer rose up. But Gwen shook her head adamantly. She stood and faced her people, and all eyes turned to her.
“We shall not turn back!” she boomed to her people. “We have begun the evacuation, and we must stick to it. I know that a great danger lies ahead for the Ring. I must get you to safety while we still have time, while there is still a chance.”
Her people groaned, dissatisfied, and several commoners stepped forward, pointing to the horizon.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” one bellowed, “but King’s Court is my home! It is everything I know and love! I’m not about to cross the sea to some strange island while our city is intact and in the hands of the MacGils! I’m turning back for King’s Court!”
A great cheer rose up, and as he left, walking back, hundreds of people fell in and followed him, turning their carts, heading back down the road toward King’s Court.
“My lady, should I stop them?” Steffen asked, panicked, loyal to her to a fault.
“You are hearing the voice of the people, my lady,” Aberthol said, coming up beside her. “You would be foolish to deny them. Moreover, you cannot. It is their home. It is all that they know. Do not fight your own people. Do not lead them without good reason.”
“But I have good reason,” Gwen said. “I know destruction is coming.”
Aberthol shook his head.
“And yet they do not,” he replied. “I do not doubt you. But queens plan ahead, while the masses act on instinct. And a queen is only as powerful as the masses allow her to be.”
Gwen stood there, burning with frustration as she watched her people defy her command, migrating back to King’s Court. It was the first time they had ever openly rebelled, had openly defied her. She did not like the feeling. Was it portending things to come? Were her days as queen numbered?
“My lady, shall I command the soldiers to stop them?” Steffen asked.
She felt as if he was the only one left still loyal to her. A part of her wanted to say yes.
But as she watched them go, she knew it would be futile.
“No,” she said softly, her voice broken, feeling as if her child had just turned her back on her. What pained her the most was that she knew their actions would only lead to their harm, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. “I cannot prevent what destiny holds for them.”
* * *
Gwendolyn, despondent as she trailed her people in the return to King’s Court, rode through the rear gates of King’s Court and already heard the distant cheers of celebration coming from the other side. Her people were elated, dancing and cheering, throwing their hats into the air as they all poured through the gates, returning to the courtyards of the city they knew and loved, the city they called home. Everyone rushed to congratulate the Legion, Kendrick, and the victorious Silver.
But Gwendolyn proceeded with a pit in her stomach, torn by mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was of course elated to be back here, too, elated that they had conquered the McClouds, elated to see that Kendrick and the others were safe. She took pride in seeing the McCloud corpses littered all over the place, and she was thrilled to see that her brother Godfrey had managed to survive, sitting off to the side nursing a wound, head in hand.
Yet at the same time, Gwendolyn could not quell her deep sense of foreboding, her certainty that some other terrible calamity was coming for them all, and that the best thing for her people to do was to evacuate before it was too late.
But her people were swept up in victory. They would hear no reason as she was ushered, with thousands of others, into the sprawling city she knew so well. As they entered, Gwen was relieved to see that, at least, the McClouds had been killed quickly, before they’d had a chance to do any real damage to all of her careful rebuilding.
“Gwendolyn!”
Gwendolyn turned to see Kendrick dismount, rush forward, and embrace her. She hugged him back, his armor hard and cold, as she handed Guwayne to Illepra beside her.
“My brother,” she said, looking up at him, his eyes shining with victory. “I am proud of you. You’ve done more than hold our city – you have vanquished our attackers. You and your Silver. You embody our code of honor. Father would be proud.”
Kendrick grinned as he bowed his head.
“I am grateful for your words, sister. I was not about to allow your city, our city, father’s city, be destroyed by those heathens. I was not alone; you should know that our brother Godfrey put up the first resistance. He and a small handful of others, and even the Legion – they all helped hold back the attackers.”
Gwen turned to see Godfrey walking over at them, a beleaguered smile on his face, holding one hand to the side of his head, caked with dried blood.
“You became a man today, my brother,” she said to him in earnest, draping a hand on his shoulder. “Father would be proud.”
Godfrey smiled back sheepishly.
“I just wanted to warn you,” he said.
She smiled.
“You did far more than that.”
Alongside him came Elden, O’Connor, Conven, and dozens of Legion members.
“My lady,” Elden said. “Our men fought valiantly here today. Yet I’m sad to say, we have lost many.”
Gwen looked past him and saw the dead bodies all over King’s Court. Thousands of McClouds – yet also dozens of Legion recruits. Even a handful of Silver were dead. It brought back painful memories of the last time her city was invaded. It was hard for Gwen to look.
She turned and saw a dozen McClouds, captives, still alive, heads down, hands behind their backs.
“And who are these?” she asked.
“The McCloud generals,” Kendrick replied. “We’ve kept them alive. They are all that remains of their army. What do you command we do with them?”
Gwendolyn looked them over slowly, staring them in the eye as she did. Each one stared back at her, proud, defiant. Their faces were crude, typical McClouds, never showing remorse.
Gwen sighed. There had been a time when she had thought that peace was the answer to everything, that if only she could be kind enough and gracious enough to her neighbors, could show enough goodwill, then they’d be kind to her and her people.
But the longer she ruled, the more she saw that others only interpreted overtures of peace as a sign of weakness, as something to be taken advantage of. All her efforts at peace had culminated in this: a surprise attack. And on Pilgrimage Day no less, the holiest day of the year.
Gwendolyn felt herself hardening inside. She did not have the same naïveté, the same faith in man, that she once did. More and more, she had faith in only one thing: a reign of steel.
As Kendrick and the others all looked to her, Gwendolyn raised her voice:
“Kill them all,” she said.
Their eyes widened in surprise, and respect. They clearly had not expected this from their queen who had always strived for peace.
“Did I hear correctly, my lady?” Kendrick asked, shock in his voice.
Gwendolyn nodded.
“You did,” she replied. “When you’re done, collect their corpses, and expel them from our gates.”
Gwendolyn turned and walked away, through the courtyard of King’s Court, and as she did, she heard behind her the screams of the McClouds. Despite herself, she flinched.
Gwen walked through a city filled with corpses and yet filled with cheering and music and dancing, thousands of people swarming back to their homes, refilling the city as if nothing bad had ever happened. As she watched them, her heart filled with dread.
“The city is ours again,” Kendrick said, coming up beside her.
Gwendolyn shook her head.
“Just for a short while.”
He looked at her in surprise.
“What do you mean?”
She stopped and faced him.
“I’ve seen the prophecies,” she said. “The ancient scripts. I’ve spoken with Argon. I’ve dreamt a dream. An attack is coming our way. It was a mistake to return here. We must all evacuate at once.”
Kendrick looked at her, his face ashen, and Gwen sighed as she surveyed her people.
“But my people will not listen.”
Kendrick shook his head.
“What if you’re mistaken?” he said. “What if you are looking too deeply into prophecies? We have the finest fighting army in the world. Nothing can reach our gates. The McClouds are dead, and we have no other enemies left in the Ring. The Shield is up and holds strong. And we also have Ralibar, wherever he is. You have nothing to fear. We have nothing to fear.”
Gwendolyn shook her head.
“That is precisely the moment when you have the most to fear,” she replied.
Kendrick sighed.
“My lady, this was just a freak attack,” he said. “They surprised us on Pilgrimage Day. We shall never leave King’s Court unguarded again. This city is a fortress. It has held for thousands of years. There is no one left to topple us.”
“You are wrong,” she said.
“Well, even if I am, you see that the people won’t leave. My sister,” Kendrick said, his voice softening, imploring, “I love you. But I speak as your commander. As the commander of the Silver. If you try to force your people to evacuate, to do what they do not want to do, you will have a revolt on your hands. They do not see whatever danger that you do. And to be honest, I do not even see it myself.”
Gwendolyn looked at her people, and she knew that Kendrick was right. They would not listen to her. Even her own brother did not believe her.
And it broke her heart.
* * *
Gwendolyn stood alone on the upper parapets of her castle, holding Guwayne tight and looking out at the sunset, the two suns hanging low in the sky. Down below, she heard the muted shouts and celebrations of her people, all preparing for a huge night of celebration. Out there, she saw the rolling vistas of the lands surrounding King’s Court, a kingdom at its peak. Everywhere was the bounty of summer, endless fields of green, orchards, a lush land rich with bounty. The land was content, rebuilt after so much tragedy, and she saw a world at peace with itself.
Gwendolyn furrowed her brow, wondering how any sort of darkness could ever reach here. Maybe the darkness she had imagined had already come in the form of the McClouds. Maybe it had already been averted, thanks to Kendrick and the others. Maybe Kendrick had been right. Maybe she had grown too cautious since she had become Queen, had seen too much tragedy. Maybe she was, like Kendrick said, looking too deeply into things.
After all, to evacuate her people from their homes, to lead them across the Canyon, onto ships, to the volatile Upper Isles, was a drastic move, a move reserved for a time of the greatest calamity. What if she did so, and no tragedy ever befell the Ring? She’d be known as the Queen who panicked with no danger in sight.
Gwendolyn sighed, clutching Guwayne as he squirmed in her arms, and wondered if she were losing her mind. She looked up and searched the skies for any sign of Thorgrin, hoping, praying. At least, she hoped for any sign of Ralibar, wherever he was. But he, too, had not returned.
Gwen watched an empty sky, once again disappointed. Once again, she would have to rely on herself. Even her people, who had always supported her, who had looked to her as a god, now seemed to distrust her. Her father had never prepared her for this. Without the support of her people, what sort of Queen would she be? Powerless.
Gwen desperately wanted to turn to someone for comfort, for answers. But Thorgrin was gone; her mother was gone; seemingly everyone she knew and loved was gone. She felt at a crossroads, and had never felt more confused.
Gwen closed her eyes and called upon God to help her. She tried with all her will to summon him. She had never been one to pray much, but her faith was strong, and she felt certain that he existed.
Please, God. I am so confused. Show me how to best protect my people. Show me how to best protect Guwayne. Show me how to be a great ruler.
“Prayers are a powerful thing,” came a voice.
Gwen spun at once, instantly relieved to hear that voice. Standing there, several feet away, was Argon. He was clothed in his white cloak and hood, holding his staff, looking out at the horizon instead of her.
“Argon, I need answers. Please. Help me.”
“We are always in need of answers,” he replied. “And yet they do not always come. Our lives are meant to be lived out. The future cannot always be told for us.”
“But it can be hinted at,” Gwendolyn said. “All the prophecies I’ve read, all the scrolls, the history of the Ring – still point to a great darkness that is coming. You must tell me. Will it occur?”
Argon turned and stared at her, his eyes filled with fire, darker and scarier than she’d ever seen them.
“Yes,” he replied.
The definiteness of his answer scared her more than anything. He, Argon, who always spoke in riddles.
Gwen shivered inside.
“Will it come here, to King’s Court?”
“Yes,” he replied.
Gwen felt her sense of dread deepening. She also felt secure in her conviction that she had been right all along.
“Will the Ring will be destroyed?” she asked.
Argon looked to her, and nodded slowly.
“There are but a few things left that I can tell you,” he said. “If you choose, this can be one of them.”
Gwen thought long and hard. She knew Argon’s wisdom was precious. Yet this was something she really needed to know.
“Tell me,” she said.
Argon took a deep breath as he turned and surveyed the horizon for what felt like forever.
“The Ring will be destroyed. Everything you know and love will be wiped away. The place you now stand will be nothing but flaming embers and ashes. All of the Ring will be ashes. Your nation will be gone. A darkness is coming. A darkness greater than any darkness in our history.”
Gwendolyn felt the truth of his words reverberate inside her, felt the deep timbre of his voice resonate to her very core. She knew that every word he spoke was true.
“My people do not see this,” she said, her voice shaking.
Argon shrugged.
“You are Queen. Sometimes force must be used. Not only against one’s enemies. But even against one’s people. Do what you know. Do not always seek your people’s approval. Approval is an elusive thing. Sometimes, when your people hate you the most, that is a sign that you are doing the best thing for them. Your father was blessed with a reign of peace. But you, Gwendolyn, you will have a far greater test: you will have a reign of steel.”
As Argon turned to walk away, Gwendolyn stepped forward and reached out for him.
“Argon,” she called.
He stopped, but did not turn around.
“Just tell me one more thing. I beg you. Will I ever see Thorgrin again?”
He paused, a long, heavy silence. In that grim silence, she felt her heart breaking in two, hoping and praying that he would give her just one more answer.
“Yes,” he replied.
She stood there, her heart pounding, craving more.
“Can you tell me nothing more?”
He turned and looked at her, sadness in his eyes.
“Remember the choice you made. Not every love is meant to last forever.”
High above, Gwen heard a falcon screech, and she looked to the sky, wondering.
She turned to look back at Argon, but he was already gone.
She clutched Guwayne tight and looked out at her kingdom, taking one long last look, wanting to remember it like this, when it was still vibrant, alive. Before it all turned to ash. She wondered with dread what danger so great could be lurking beyond that veneer of beauty. She shuddered, as she knew, without a doubt, that it would find them all very soon.
Chapter Seven
Stara yelled as she plummeted through the air, flailing, Reece beside her, Matus and Srog beside him, the four of them falling from the castle wall in the blinding wind and rain, plunging toward the ground. She braced herself as she saw the large bushes come up at her quickly, and she realized the only reason she might survive this fall was because of them.
A moment later, Stara felt as if every bone in her body was breaking as she smashed into the bush – which barely broke her fall – and continued on until she hit the ground. She felt the wind knocked out of her, and was sure she bruised a rib. Yet at the same time, she sank several inches and realized the ground was softer, muddier than she thought, and cushioned her fall.
The others hit, too, beside her, and all of them began to tumble as the mud gave way. Stara hadn’t anticipated they would land on a steep slope, and before she could stop herself, she was sliding with the others, rushing downhill, all of them caught up in a mudslide.
They rolled and slid, and soon the gushing waters carried them, sliding down the mountain at full speed. As she slid, Stara looked back over her shoulder and saw her father’s castle quickly fading from view, and realized that at least it was taking them away, far from their attackers.
Stara looked back down and dodged as she narrowly avoided rocks in her path, going so fast she could hardly catch her breath. The mud was unbelievably slick, and the rain came down harder, her world spinning at lightning speed. She tried to slow, grasping at the mud, but it was impossible.
Just as Stara wondered if this would ever end, she was flooded with panic as she remembered where this slope led: right off the side of a cliff. If they didn’t stop themselves soon, she realized, they would all be dead.
Stara saw that none of the others could stop the slide either, all of them flailing, groaning, trying their hardest but helpless. Stara looked out and saw, with dread, the drop-off fast approaching. With no way to stop themselves, they were about to go right over the edge.
Suddenly Stara saw Srog and Matus veer to the left, to a small cave perched at the edge of the precipice. They somehow managed to smash into the rocks feet first, coming to a standstill just before they went over the edge.
Stara tried to dig her heels into the mud, but nothing was working; she merely spun and tumbled, and seeing the precipice coming up on her, she yelled, knowing she’d be over the edge in a second.
Suddenly, Stara felt a rough hand grabbing the back of her shirt, slowing her speed, then stopping her. She looked up to see Reece. He clung to a flimsy tree, one arm wrapped around it, at the edge of the precipice, his other hand reaching out and holding her as water and mud gushed, pulling her away. She was losing ground, nearly dangling over the edge. He had stopped her fall, but she was losing ground.
Reece could not continue to hold her, and she knew that if he didn’t let go, soon they would both go over together. They would both die.
“Let me go!” she yelled up at him.
But he shook his head adamantly.
“Never!” he yelled back, his face dripping with water, over the rain.
Reece suddenly let go of the tree so he could reach out and grab her wrists with both hands; at the same time, he wrapped his legs around the tree, holding himself from behind. He yanked her to him with all his might, his legs the only thing keeping them both from going over.
With one final move, he groaned and cried and managed to yank her out of the current, to the side, and sent her rolling over to the cave with the others. Reece tumbled with her as she went, rolling out of the current himself, and helping her as she crawled.
When they reached the safety of the cave Stara collapsed, exhausted, lying face-first in the mud, and so grateful to be alive.
As she lay there, breathing hard, dripping wet, she wondered not about how close she’d come to death, but rather about one thing: did Reece still love her? She realized she cared more about that than even whether or not she lived.
* * *
Stara sat huddled around the small fire inside the cave, the others close by, finally starting to dry off. She looked around and realized the four of them looked like survivors of a war, cheeks sunken, all staring into the flames, holding up their hands and rubbing them, trying to shelter themselves from the ceaseless wet and cold. They listened to the wind and rain, the ever-present elements of the Upper Isles, thrashing outside. It felt like it would never end.
It was night now, and they had waited all day to light this fire, for fear of being seen. Finally, they had all been so cold and tired and miserable, they had risked it. Stara felt enough time had passed from their escape – and besides, there was no way those men would dare to venture all the way down to these cliffs. It was too steep and wet, and if they did, they would die trying.
Still, the four of them were trapped in here, like prisoners. If they stepped foot outside the cave, eventually an army of Upper Islanders would find them, and kill them all. Her brother would have no mercy on her, either. It was hopeless.
She sat near a distant, brooding Reece, and pondered the events. She had saved Reece’s life back in the fort, but he had saved hers on the cliff. Did he still care for her the way he once did? The way that she still cared for him? Or was he still bitter over what had happened to Selese? Did he blame her? Would he ever forgive her?
Stara could not imagine the pain he was going through as he sat there, head in his hands, staring into the fire like a man who was lost. She wondered what was racing through his mind. He looked like a man with nothing left to lose, like a man who had been to the edge of suffering and had not quite returned. A man wracked by guilt. He did not look like the man she had once known, the man so full of love and joy, so quick to smile, who’d showered her with love and affection. Now, instead, he looked as if something had died inside of him.
Stara looked up, afraid to meet Reece’s eyes, yet needing to see his face. She hoped secretly that he would be staring at her, thinking of her. Yet when she saw him, her heart broke to see that he was not looking at her at all. Instead, he just stared into the flames, the loneliest look on his face that she had ever seen.
Stara could not help wondering for the millionth time if whatever had existed between them was over, ruined by Selese’s death. For the millionth time, she cursed her brothers – and her father – for putting into action such a devious plot. She had always wanted Reece to herself, of course; but she would never have condoned the subterfuge that had led to her demise. She had never wanted Selese to die, or even to be hurt. She had hoped that Reece would break the news to her in a gentle way, and that while upset, she would understand – and certainly not take her own life. Or destroy Reece’s.
Now all of Stara’s plans, her entire future, had crumbled before her eyes, thanks to her awful family. Matus was the only rational one left of her bloodline. Yet Stara wondered what would become of him, of the four of them. Would they just rot and die here in this cave? Eventually they would have to leave it. And her brother’s men, she knew, were relentless. He would not stop until he’d killed them all – especially after Reece had killed her father.
Stara knew she should feel some remorse at her father being dead – and yet she felt none at all. She hated the man, and always had. If anything, she felt relieved, even grateful to Reece for killing him. He had been a lying, honorless warrior and king his entire life, and no father to her at all.
Stara glanced at these three warriors, all sitting there looking distraught. They’d been silent for hours, and she wondered if any them had a plan. Srog was badly wounded, and Matus and Reece had been wounded as well, though their injuries were minor. They all looked frozen to the bone, beaten down by the weather of this place, by the odds against them.
“So are we all going to sit in this cave forever, and die here?” Stara asked, breaking the thick silence, no longer able to stand the monotony or the gloom.
Slowly, Srog and Matus looked over at her. But Reece still would not look up and meet her eyes.
“And where would you have us go?” Srog asked, defensive. “The entire island is crawling with your brother’s men. What chance do we hold against them? Especially with them enraged at our escape and your father’s death.”
“You got us into a pickle, my cousin,” Matus said, smiling, putting a hand on Reece’s shoulder. “That was a bold act of yours. Possibly the boldest act I’ve seen in my life.”
Reece shrugged.
“He stole my bride. He deserved to die.”
Stara bristled at the word bride. It broke her heart. His choice of that word told her everything – clearly, Reece was still in love with Selese. He would not even meet Stara’s eyes. She felt like crying.
“Do not worry, cousin,” Matus said. “I rejoice my father is dead, and I am glad that you are the one who killed him. I do not blame you. I admire you. Even if you nearly got us all killed in the process.”
Reece nodded, clearly appreciating Matus’s words.
“But no one answered me,” Stara said. “What is the plan? For us all to die here?”
“What is your plan?” Reece shot back at her.
“I have none,” she said. “I did my part. I rescued us all from that place.”
“Yes, you did,” Reece admitted, still looking into the flames rather than at her. “I owe you my life.”
Stara felt a glimmer of hope at Reece’s words, even if he would still not meet her eyes. She wondered if maybe he did not hate her after all.
“And you saved mine,” she replied. “From the edge of the cliff. We are even.”
Reece still stared into to the flames.
She waited for him to say something back, to say that he loved her, to say anything. But he said nothing. Stara found herself reddening.
“Is that it then?” she said. “Have we nothing else to say to each other? Is our business done?”
Reece raised his head, meeting her eyes for the first time with a puzzled expression.
Stara could stand it no more. She jumped to her feet and stormed away from the others, standing at the edge of the cave, her back to all of them. She looked out at the night, the rain, the wind, and she wondered: was everything over between her and Reece? If it was, she felt no reason to go on living.