8. Gwen
For the second time, Gwen woke to find herself on the floor. This time she was slumped by her door, and the warm sunlight bathing her had driven away the sleepiness. But the exhaustion had been replaced with stiff muscles and aching bruises. This was why she usually slept in her bed, no matter how frustrating she found her long slumbers.
Standing slowly, Gwen gingerly tried her handle. It turned without resistance. Had she dreamed of the door being locked?
But Gwen refused to believe the night’s discovery had been only the muddle of sleep. She could still feel the lingering indignation and fright at finding herself locked in. So why had she so tamely fallen back asleep? She had succeeded in waking in the night, but it had gained her nothing.
No, Gwen corrected herself. It gained me knowledge.
She had hoped to gain even more knowledge from an open conversation with the captives, but at least she had learned something. Between the guards and her locked door, she was now certain that something went on in the palace grounds at night—something she was being deliberately excluded from.
Gwen’s eyes fell on her cabinet, now bereft of its small treasure. Other memories of the night before flooded back. Why had she never considered the regular citizens of the mountain kingdom? She had spent years pitying herself and the captive servants while overlooking a whole city full of people suffering at her mother’s hands. Why had she never spared them a thought?
She could only conclude it was because she had no contact with them. To her, the people of the mountain kingdom were her mother’s court—perpetual strangers who shut her out and kept her mother’s secrets.
She knew better now. The regular people wore the face of a fourteen-year-old girl, full of the dreams of a child and the courage of youth. But while Gwen had gained knowledge the night before, she had acquired no extra power.
Still, she couldn’t shake the thought of the girl all through breakfast. She ate well, hungry from her small meal the night before, but when she finished, she looked at her mother.
“I’m planning to go riding this morning,” she ventured, holding her breath while she waited to see how her mother would react.
From the queen’s calm behavior through the meal, she didn’t seem to have received a report of Gwen’s misbehavior the previous evening. But it was possible she knew and was just waiting for an opportune moment to bring down the hammer.
“Not today, my dear,” her mother said, and Gwen’s heart sank.
The only time she ever escaped the palace grounds was on horseback. Usually, she rode alongside her mother, but on occasion she rode with only two guards as companions. In the past, she had always headed to the edge of the valley on such rides, wanting to get away from everyone and as close to the wilderness as possible. But she had a different plan in mind this time. She wanted to ride toward the city and see if she could glimpse the ordinary life of its inhabitants.
But it seemed the guards had reported her after all.
Gwen could barely suppress her trembling as she looked at her mother, but Queen Celandine’s smile didn’t fade. And while it didn’t reach her eyes, that was normal and not any cause for particular concern.
But somehow Gwen only felt more afraid. She almost wanted the punishment to fall just to escape the limbo of waiting.
“Really, my dear,” her mother said, her voice sharpening. “Must you always look so diffident and uncertain? How many times have I reminded you that you’re my heir and will one day rule the mountain kingdom? How can our people be expected to follow a girl who can’t even string two words together in the presence of her own mother?”
Gwen swallowed. She knew she needed to answer, but she couldn’t think of the right words. Her mother certainly didn’t show any appreciation if Gwen ever spoke with strength or confidence. In that case Gwen was unattractively defiant and impudent and needed to learn respect for her elders and monarch.
“Yes, Mother,” she said finally.
Easton would have known what to say—how to tread the exact line between diffidence and insolence—but Gwen’s mind all too often froze in her mother’s presence.
The queen sighed, as if she should have known it was futile to expect better of Gwen. “This is why you need me. Without me, you would be nothing. But you needn’t fear. I will always be here for you.”
The words should have sent a chill down Gwen’s spine, but they were too familiar to warrant a reaction. Her mother rarely commented on Gwen’s many deficiencies without saying something similar.
The queen surveyed her silent daughter and spoke again. “It’s been too long since we spent time together.”
Gwen stared at her, speechless. Spend time together? When had they ever done such a thing?
“I have some things to speak to you about,” the queen continued.
When Gwen still didn’t answer, the queen’s brows contracted. She looked nettled by her daughter’s obvious confusion, so Gwen schooled her expression and nodded obediently.
The effort satisfied her mother somewhat, so Gwen relaxed slightly. But as she trailed behind her mother all the way up to her room, her mind raced, even as she kept her face placid and calm. Was this some elaborate scheme to enable a new form of punishment? What was her mother planning to do to Gwen in the privacy of Gwen’s room?
Her mother had never physically hit her—although her words often felt like blows—but locked away in the dark as a child, Gwen had understood her mother was capable of anything. When they reached her room, however, the queen’s false smile was still firmly in place.
As Gwen followed her mother’s directions and sat at her dressing table, she had to fight against terror. Gazing into the mirror, she met her mother’s eyes where she stood behind her, and the longer they held, the more terrible the queen’s smile grew. Gwen dreaded her mother’s anger, but somehow this pretense of friendly affection was even worse. What lay behind it?
When her mother’s fingers pulled at her hair, Gwen had to use every ounce of her self-control to hold herself still. With a few swift tugs, her mother released the hasty arrangement Gwen had managed before breakfast. Once her hair was flowing freely down her back, her mother picked up a brush and began to run it through her locks. While her hands moved, she smiled at her daughter in the mirror.
“You have grown into a lovely lady, my dear.”
Was Gwen’s panic showing in her eyes? She stared at her reflection, trying to see it the way her mother might. The face that looked back was strikingly similar to the life-size portrait of the previous king that stood in the line of monarchs that graced the throne room. Gwen might not have inherited the stunning, fair-haired beauty of her mother, but she still looked both beautiful and royal. A dark-haired princess with a pale, but otherwise composed, face. Her mouth was even curved slightly upward. The expression didn’t touch her eyes, but perhaps her mother considered that normal.
The young woman in the mirror was Princess Gwendolyn, not Gwen. The reminder let Gwen breathe more freely.
“In truth, I’ve been remiss in my duties,” her mother continued, not bothering to wait for a reply.
Gwen could barely keep her face still, unable to fathom what her mother could be referencing. The queen never criticized herself. She gave a laugh, a tinkling sound that never failed to grate on Gwen’s nerves.
“I can see I’ve surprised you, my dear. I’ve been half-expecting you to ask me about it, but I’m gratified you’re so content to remain here with only me.”
“Ask you about what, Mother?” Gwen asked carefully, still with no idea what her mother was talking about.
“Why, your marriage, of course! You are old enough for it—and past age according to some.” She laughed again. “But even the most impatient must recognize a mother’s heart. What parent wants to give their precious child away to another?”
“You want to give me away?” Gwen asked, too dazed to filter her words.
The brush yanked downward, making her wince.
“Aren’t you listening?” the queen asked, an edge to her voice. “I said I don’t want to give you away.”
“I…I apologize,” Gwen stammered out, still lost. “But why are we talking of my marriage?”
“Because it is time, of course,” the queen said calmly, her eyes meeting Gwen’s wide ones in the mirror.
Gwen’s mouth dropped open, not even fear of her mother enough to suppress her shock. “You want me to get married? To whom?”
While she had always dreamed of escaping from under her mother’s eye, she had never thought of marriage as the answer. Surrounded by no one but the servants and the cold court, there was only one person who had ever occupied her heart. And he was never coming. She had given up hope of that a long time ago. She didn’t even know if he was alive.
Her mind raced through the various courtiers, but she couldn’t think of anyone eligible enough to appeal to her mother. She certainly couldn’t think of anyone she could stomach marrying.
“To a prince, of course,” the queen said. “Only royalty could be worthy of the princess of the mountain kingdom.”
“A prince?” Gwen frowned. “But there are no princes here.” Slowly the truth broke over her, and her eyes flew up to meet her mother’s in the mirror. “You want me to marry a lowlander?”
It was inconceivable. She knew the valleys existed, of course, and the captive valley folk had assured her the lowlands existed beyond them. But the valleys had always seemed a part of the mountains—if a distant part—while the kingdoms beyond were as distant as a fairy tale.
She started to rise to her feet, but her mother’s hand tightened on her shoulder, pushing her back into place. Gwen slumped into the seat, her mind whirling. A lowlander prince? Did the lowland royals even know the mountain kingdom existed? Which of them would want to brave the mountains and make their home there?
Gwen didn’t fool herself for even a second thinking that her mother might plan to release Gwen, sending her off to a far kingdom. The idea was appealing, but she knew it to be nonsense. Her mother would never let her go. Even if she had another heir—and she did not—she wasn’t the type to relinquish anything that belonged to her.
“I don’t like that term,” her mother said stiffly, showing more restraint than she usually did when they were alone.
Gwen murmured an apology. Her surprise had betrayed her into using the term of her childhood, although she had never understood what issue her mother had with it.
“Are not all lands equal?” her mother asked. “What is high that cannot be brought low and what is low that cannot be made high?”
Gwen kept her eyes lowered, not wanting her mother to see the skepticism in them. Queen Celandine was the last person to believe in the equality of all. Whatever her true objection, it wasn’t over some imagined slight against the lowlanders.
“We must think of them as an extension of our own people,” her mother continued in the gracious tones she usually used in company. “Indeed, after your marriage, they will be as much your people as our own citizens are.”
Gwen frowned. Her mother’s words sounded conciliatory enough, but there was something predatory in her tone. Did she hope to use Gwen’s marriage to extend her own influence? That would be like her mother, but it seemed pointless when the mountains created a barrier that would forever separate them from the other kingdoms. Passage between the mountain kingdoms and the lowland kingdoms was difficult enough to keep them apart forever. Gwen’s marriage couldn’t turn mountains into valleys.
“You need not concern yourself with the details,” her mother said, as if reading her thoughts. “You need only prepare yourself for your marriage.”
Gwen looked up again. “Is it that soon? Who is the groom?”
“He will be here soon enough,” her mother said, ignoring the question about his identity. “And when your prince arrives, we must not delay. This afternoon, the seamstresses will attend you and take your measurements. You will need an entire new wardrobe before you’re married.”
Gwen nodded silently, her mind still whirling too fast to engage on such mundane topics as dressmaking. Her mother had plans—advanced plans—to marry her to a foreign prince. It didn’t seem possible.
But her mother never spoke frivolously. If she said it was so, then she already had someone in mind. Knowing her, she must even have an agreement in place already.
Gwen wanted to press her to discover the name and kingdom of her supposed groom, but she couldn’t shake off her unease from earlier. For some reason the queen was pretending affability, and Gwen didn’t want to trigger overt anger.
She couldn’t remain completely silent, however. “When?” she pressed. “How long before he’s here?”
Her mother laughed. “So you are eager to be married after all. It is natural. But I cannot give you exact details on timing. We must wait for his arrival.”
She finally put down the brush, meeting Gwen’s eyes in the mirror in a way that told her they had finally reached the point of greatest importance to her mother.
“Once you are married, your duties and responsibilities will increase. You will find that the people look to you in a new way. But remember, the mountain kingdom is subservient to no one. Your future husband may be a prince, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be permitted to order matters here in the mountains. I am queen in this valley.”
She held Gwen’s eyes until she nodded. After all the years she had spent in her mother’s company, she understood the underlying message. Marriage wasn’t going to provide Gwen an escape. Single or married, she would still be under her mother’s eye.
Her mother wasn’t opening a gate and letting her walk free. She was merely luring another sheep into her pen.
Gwen felt a fleeting whisper of pity for the unsuspecting prince. But she couldn’t hold onto the feeling in the face of her own discomfort. She had bowed her head and remained meekly in place for years in order to pacify her mother. But could she take it as far as marriage? Could she marry a stranger at her mother’s order?
Everything in Gwen revolted, and she could no longer see her own reflection in the mirror. Instead, she saw curly brown hair and warm brown eyes with flecks of gold.
Was her mother leaving? She hoped desperately she was because Gwen couldn’t lose her composure until her mother left the room.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard words that might have been a farewell. She must have managed a reply because she caught the sound of her door closing. Looking up, she confirmed she was alone.
Stumbling back from the dressing table, she collapsed onto her knees beside the bed, bracing her forehead against the soft mattress. Her breath rasped in and out too quickly, and she knew she needed to slow it down, but her body had stopped responding.
Tears leaked out, and the hands that gripped the bedspread shook. Easton! she cried silently. Why did you leave without me? If you escaped from here, couldn’t I have come as well?
Her breath continued to rush in too quickly, and her head grew dizzy. What would she do when she didn’t even have the sanctuary of her room? When the one space that was hers alone was filled with a stranger? Could she survive the palace when she no longer had even shreds of privacy left?
It was an unanswerable question, and she didn’t try to count the minutes that passed until she finally steadied her trembling and took back control of her breath.
When she finally stood, she knew that even fear of her mother wasn’t enough this time. She needed to find out the extent of her mother’s plans, and then she needed to escape.