8. Gwen
GWEN
“ Y es, Mother.” Gwen bowed her head quickly in submission, hoping the queen hadn’t seen the surge of excitement in her eyes at mention of Henry.
She expected to be led into the depths of the palace—possibly even to the closet that she had once been trapped in. But Celandine walked only three doors along the corridor before stopping again.
The rooms around Gwen’s had been empty for as long as she could remember—silent reminders that her father’s death had also taken away the chance of future siblings. Their silent emptiness was so ingrained in Gwen’s thinking that it had never occurred to her that Henry might be housed in one of them.
For a horrifying moment, she feared her friend had been mistaken in her husband and that Henry was the queen’s guest. Then Celandine withdrew a key, and Gwen’s fears receded. Henry was a captive just as she had been.
Gwen of all people knew that a pretty cage was still a cage.
After turning the key in the lock, Celandine paused, stepping back slightly and gesturing for Gwen to open the door. Gwen frowned but couldn’t think of any reason to refuse the task.
Cautiously she opened the door and stepped inside. A flash of movement made her startle and flinch away as a solid brass candlestick descended toward her head. By the time she sucked in the breath to cry out, however, the candlestick had veered, missing her by an inch and dropping to the carpet instead.
A tall young man stood staring at her, his chest rising and falling with either exertion or strong emotion. Had he prepared himself for a desperate escape attempt only to pull back when he saw her face? Why?
Gwen had the vague impression he was handsome, but the only feature she absorbed were his piercing blue eyes. They first tightened and then widened as he looked at her.
“You’re the princess?” he asked, and then slowly, as if struggling to remember, “Gwen, is it?”
Gwen’s heart contracted. Her mother would never have referred to her as Gwen to this foreign prince. To her mother she was Princess Gwendolyn. If Prince Henry knew her as Gwen, then he had heard her name from Charlotte. But how had he recognized her face?
“I see the castle did its job,” Queen Celandine entered the room with a satisfied smile. “My daughter is just as beautiful as her portrait, is she not?”
Her portrait? Gwen stared from her mother to the prince in dismay. Like the portrait of Charlotte and Henry that was hidden in her mother’s room? Charlotte’s description of Henry’s castle had sounded concerningly like a mirror for the mountain palace, but this news confirmed it. There had definitely been a link between the mountain queen and Charlotte’s home. A link that must have been anchored in the paired portrait that gave her mother a glimpse of Henry and his bride.
Gwen stuffed her hands in her pocket to hide that they were both fisted and trembling. Her mother had no shame and no limits. But she was fooling herself if she thought Henry and Gwen would ever be married.
Her right hand brushed against the apple, reminding her again of its existence. Curious, she wrapped her hand around it and waited to see if the queen still had the plaited cords in her pocket.
Instantly, she was hit with the same awareness as before. The queen’s object was still in the pocket where it had been before, still carried on her person. But if last time her awareness of it had been like meeting a new acquaintance, now it glowed with the warmth of an old friend.
If Gwen didn’t know better, she would have said her golden apple felt fondly toward the plaited cord that changed someone’s shape in order to bind them to the mountains. Gwen blinked. She had known the cord was a godmother object before, but the awareness of its purpose and ability was new.
Apparently her apple was more useful than she’d initially realized. If the queen had possessed it, she would have known the cord’s full purpose, and she would never have tried to use it to bind her people to her. Gwen’s hand tightened around the apple. If her mother saw it, she would want to possess it, just like she had collected those other objects in her display room.
“Gwendolyn,” the queen said in a low warning voice, and Gwen shook herself. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander in front of her mother. She needed all her attention to try to match wits with the queen.
“I thought it was prudent for the two of you to meet before your wedding day,” the queen continued, “and clearly I was correct. Hopefully now you will be more cooperative.” She gave a satisfied smile, apparently having mistaken Henry’s surprise at the sight of Gwen for admiration. “As you can see, I am not attempting to offer you a bad bargain. My daughter is young and beautiful and has been raised as a proper princess. She is a suitable bride for the Arcadian heir.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the queen. Everything about him was tense, even the surreptitious glances he kept flicking at Gwen. Gwen didn’t make the same mistake as the queen, however. He wasn’t admiring her, Gwen could tell that much. Instead, she had the distinct impression he was barely restraining himself from asking her something.
“I will not and cannot marry your daughter,” Henry said in clear tones. “If you had stopped to listen to me previously, you would know it is impossible. I’m already married.”
Celandine made a dismissive sound and gesture. “Any previous ties are inconsequential. Of course you will marry Princess Gwendolyn.”
“Inconsequential?” Henry raised an eyebrow, not flinching in the face of the queen’s disdain. “I’ve spent the time I’ve been gone on research. I know the mountain kingdom was once connected to the Four Kingdoms and made treaties with them. Many generations ago, one of your ancestors closed off the mountain passes, and your kingdom has been all but forgotten. But some of the ancient records still remain, and they were reproduced for me by your handy bell.”
The queen’s face twisted at his mention of the bell, and he smiled slightly.
“I know that each kingdom agreed to honor contracts and marriages made in the other kingdoms. A marriage in the Four Kingdoms is a legal marriage in the mountain kingdom as well. I am already married and cannot marry your daughter.”
Gwen wanted to cheer, but to her dismay, a slow smile spread over the queen’s face.
“Officially registered marriages, certainly,” she said in sickly sweet tones. “But you were married in the valleys—you must have been since the confines of the enchantment prevented you from leaving the mountains’ foothills. So tell me, with which royal family has your marriage been registered?”
Henry’s face paled, and Gwen’s stomach turned in response.
The queen continued, her smile growing broader. “I assure you I have also not been idle in gathering information, and my teams have been visiting the valleys for years now. From what I understand, the valley officials only make the trek into Rangmere’s capital every couple of years. If you wish to play the game of law, I believe you’ll find that if a marriage is officially registered in the mountain kingdom earlier than it is officially registered in Rangmere, it is the Rangmeran marriage that will be deemed invalid.”
“It may not be on the Rangmeran registry yet,” Henry said in a dangerous voice, “but I was married according to valley tradition, and our names were duly recorded. I am already married, and I will not cast my wife aside and enter into another marriage.”
The queen’s smile dropped from her face, replaced with a dangerous glitter in her eyes.
“Then it seems we must seek a simpler solution. The validity of your first union will become irrelevant when your bride is dead. As a widower, there will be no bar in any kingdom to prevent you marrying the princess.”
Henry went still, not even breathing as he stared at the queen. His hands were fisted at his sides, and Gwen wondered how much control it was taking for him not to attack Celandine.
The silence stretched out until the queen smiled again. “I’m glad to hear you’ve finished your foolish protesting. We will now continue with our plans for the wedding.”
The queen continued to talk about the practical plans she had made for the ceremony, but Gwen barely heard her. She had resolved to stand up to her mother, and now was surely the time. Henry had attempted it and been silenced, so it was Gwen’s turn.
But her mind struggled to form the necessary words, her thoughts constantly derailed by the continued glances from Henry. He also didn’t appear to be listening to the queen, his whole focus on sending her a silent message unseen by the queen.
Gwen felt foolish and sluggish, unable to grasp what he was so desperately trying to communicate. She needed a moment alone with him, and she certainly wouldn’t get one if she picked that exact moment to enrage the queen.
Henry gave a soft sigh, and Gwen could sense her own frustration rolling off him. Before she could attempt her own silent communication, though, his demeanor abruptly changed.
He turned his eyes on Gwen again, but this time his look was open and direct—meant to be seen rather than overlooked. The apparent warmth in his gaze made her squirm given the false note that lay behind it. She stayed silent, however, willing to play along with whatever drama he was enacting for the queen.
“I cannot deny that your daughter is beautiful,” he said, aiming his words at Celandine but keeping his eyes on Gwen. “But I don’t know if I can bring myself to marry a complete stranger.” He finally turned to look at the queen. “May we not have some time alone?”
The queen raised her brows. “I have brought her to you, haven’t I? Or are you saying you cannot become acquainted in my company?”
Gwen tensed at the suspicion in her words, but Henry merely smirked.
“There are some types of…acquaintance…that are uncomfortable to achieve in the presence of others,” he said smoothly, his eyes returning appreciatively to Gwen.
His words surprised a mirthless laugh from the queen. “I suppose I can allow you a few minutes.” She held up a finger, her tone turning to warning. “But a few minutes only. I’m sure I need not remind you that the wedding has yet to take place.”
She swept toward the door, pausing at Gwen’s side and leaning close to murmur in her ear.
“Take note of this lesson, my dear. For all their protestations, all men are the same. Attempt whatever coyness you like, but allow him a kiss now, and you will yet manage to control him.”
Gwen stared at her mother’s retreating form in shock. They had suspected her mother was struggling to maintain control in her absence, but even so she had expected more resistance to her return. She hadn’t expected her mother to treat it like it had never happened. Before her defiance and escape, one of her mother’s last commands to her had been about preparing for her wedding. She hadn’t been concerned about the clothes or the ceremony, but rather about Gwen’s need to control and manipulate her future husband. And now she was speaking as if that conversation had merely been interrupted by a night’s sleep.
Her mother must be more desperate than the count realized if she truly intended to ignore Gwen’s rebellion and disappearance. It was like time had rolled back in her mother’s mind. Gwen had returned, and it was therefore as if she had never left.
Gratitude filled Gwen that she hadn’t spoken up sooner. If her mother truly intended to deny reality, Gwen could use that to her advantage. And she would need every advantage she could manage. A Celandine desperate enough to react in such a way was almost more terrifying than Celandine in her right mind, in full control of every situation. It made her unpredictable and dangerous.
As the door clicked shut, Henry stepped toward her. Grasping her shoulders, he spun her slightly so that his back was toward the door and his body blocked most of hers from view. Leaning close, he positioned his face beside hers.
“Apologies,” he whispered, “but if she opens the door, it will look from that direction as if we’re embracing.”
Gwen nodded, not wanting to waste any of their precious time.
“My wife mentioned you,” he said rapidly. “She knew your name. And you seemed to react when you saw me. Have you met her? I don’t know how it could be possible, but do you know her somehow?” Fear tinged his voice. “Do you know where she is now? Have you seen her in the last few days? She isn’t here in the mountain kingdom, is she?”
Gwen winced, and Henry’s face turned ashen.
“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “How is that possible?”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her words falling over each other. “She insisted I bring her here. She’s determined to find you. She wants to—”
“Free me,” Henry said on a groan. He strode once up and down the room, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I can’t protect her if she’s here!”
“Then maybe you need to let her protect you,” Gwen said firmly.
Henry halted and stared at her. But before she could expand on the topic, he glanced at the closed door and hurried back to position himself in front of her again.
“She isn’t alone,” Gwen said softly, unable to ignore the pain and worry on his face. “And it isn’t just me, either. We have allies. And a plan. There isn’t time to explain it all now, but you should just be ready when the moment comes. I’m not working with my mother, and I won’t marry you, no matter what she says or does. But we have to play along with her for now. Even if it gets all the way to the ceremony, don’t worry. Just be ready to move on my signal.”
Henry looked like he was about to argue, but the door clicked behind them. For a half second, Henry leaned even closer to her before a footfall sounded and he started dramatically away.
The queen chuckled. “I’m glad to see the two of you getting along.”
Gwen hoped the flush of fury in her cheeks would be mistaken for embarrassment. She kept her face averted from the queen, lest the look in her eyes give her away. Instead, she gazed out the window, waiting for her emotions to calm.
A flash of movement outside caught her eye, and her gaze focused abruptly. There was someone out there, and it wasn’t a captive servant or a guard. She recognized the swish of the gown that had disappeared around the corner because it was one of her own—one she had loaned to Charlotte after finding her friend still dressed in her nightgown.
The flush surged back into Gwen’s cheeks, this time fueled by a combination of fear and nervous anticipation. She leaned into it, looking from Henry to the queen and then back to Henry before covering her heated cheeks with her hands and fleeing the room.
The queen’s laughter chased her out, and as Gwen dashed along the corridor, she caught the distant words as the queen excused her daughter’s naivety. Gwen rolled her eyes even while she felt relieved her spontaneous subterfuge had worked. She didn’t know how long she had before her mother came looking for her—or set the palace guards to the task—so she couldn’t waste time finding Charlotte and sending her away. The last thing they needed was for Queen Celandine to capture her. From what Gwen had seen, Henry would go along with any plan the queen demanded if she had Charlotte under her power.