1. Charlotte
CHARLOTTE
O ne day earlier
“But have you seen Henry yourself?” Charlotte pressed, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Have you spoken to him?”
The man in front of her—the one Gwen had introduced as Count Oswin—hesitated, and her heart contracted. What had the mountain queen done to Henry?
“As far as I know he is well enough,” the count said at last. “But I haven’t actually exchanged words with him. Queen Celandine has been keeping him in solitary confinement since his abrupt appearance the night before last. I only know he reappeared because a number of us were together at the time, in consultation with the queen.”
“You think she would have hidden his arrival if she could?” Gwen asked, and Charlotte tried to focus on their conversation instead of her overpowering fear for her husband.
At least Henry was still alive, and she now knew where he was. Her determination to rescue him had already brought her further than he had believed possible.
“I’m certain she would have preferred to conceal him,” Count Oswin said without hesitation. “She’s still pretending you’re in the castle—in seclusion as you recover from a bout of ill health. But since you’re not there, the presence of the prince creates a significant problem for her.”
“Because they’re supposed to get married,” Charlotte said in a flat voice.
The count threw her an uncomfortable look. “Precisely. Of course we didn’t know about your existence…” He trailed off, clearly uneasy with the situation.
They all fell silent momentarily, and the count gathered himself, returning to his previous polished air.
“Why don’t we all sit down?” He looked behind him at the selection of seating, his face puckering slightly in distaste.
Charlotte echoed his sentiments. The threadbare nature of the furniture didn’t bother her, but everything in the basement looked like it needed a good clean.
No one protested aloud, though, so the count quickly had them organized in a loose circle. He sat directly across from Gwen while Easton sat at her side, pulling his chair as close as possible to her. That left Charlotte to fill in one of the gaps with their guide across from her.
The girl—who looked several years younger than Charlotte—gazed unabashedly back at her, clearly fascinated by the young woman who had just been introduced as a princess. Charlotte wished the girl would look elsewhere. Whatever she was expecting from Charlotte, she was going to be disappointed. Charlotte was no princess.
She avoided the girl’s gaze, looking around the dim basement. She had spent the journey through the mountains in a state of constant tension. Not only had they been literally riding the wind while it tried to buck and throw them to their deaths, but she had been braced for a dramatic and possibly violent confrontation with the queen on arrival. She hadn’t expected to find herself sitting in a basement with no idea what was supposed to happen next.
She refocused on the count. “Do you have a plan? For freeing my husband, I mean.”
The count cleared his throat and looked toward Gwen. Charlotte followed his gaze with a sinking feeling. Had the rebels just been waiting, expecting Gwen to arrive with a plan? Because Charlotte was certain Gwen didn’t have a plan. Only that morning Gwen had been on her way to Henry’s castle to check on Charlotte.
She rubbed her temples. Had it really been less than a day since she had run into Gwen in the forest? Less than two full days since she had lost Henry? It felt like a lifetime. The Charlotte who had returned to the castle on Henry’s back, eager to see her husband’s face, had been a different woman—one who seemed impossibly young and naive.
Given the way Gwen straightened in her chair, she had also noticed that the count was looking to her. And from the way she was biting her lip, she felt as lost as Charlotte. Charlotte felt a surge of pity for her. If two days of suffering had aged Charlotte, how ancient must Gwen feel?
On impulse, she took her friend’s hand. Charlotte had come to the kingdom east of the sun and west of the moon to rescue her husband, but she had also come to help her friend. She wasn’t going to let some old man berate Gwen for not having a solution to a problem he hadn’t managed to solve in a decade.