16. Charlotte
CHARLOTTE
T hey had returned to Natalie’s house, but Natalie herself had disappeared somewhere. As Patti plied them all with endless cups of tea, Charlotte tried not to worry about what trouble the girl was getting into.
Charlotte felt out of place, aware that she was being treated more frostily since she had returned from the palace without Easton. But her diversionary efforts had only been required to help get him into the building. He had assured her that once inside, he knew every corridor, cranny, and hiding place. That didn’t mean she would breathe easily until he returned safely, however—preferably with good news about Gwen. She didn’t even blame his parents for assigning her some of the blame for his foolhardy decision to breach the palace. They had only just been reunited, and now he had placed himself straight into danger again.
She had positioned herself in a corner, as out of the way as possible, while she watched Patti and Lydia work together seamlessly, ferrying hot drinks and preparing the evening meal. Lydia in particular fascinated her. Lydia had once been a courtier, but she seemed to have adjusted to life as an ordinary citizen. Could Charlotte do the same in reverse? Would she one day be as comfortable in a palace—on a throne—as Lydia was in a kitchen?
The sound of the front door banging open made her sit up, half-hopeful, half-scared. But the sounds that emerged from the front hall were welcoming, and she sank back against the sofa.
Easton appeared in the sitting room doorway, still slightly out of breath, as if he’d run through half the city to get to them before sunset. He endured exclamations, hugs, and scoldings from both Lydia and Patti before he noticed Charlotte sitting quietly in the corner. He gave her a meaningful nod, his face serious but his eyes bright, and a further knot of tension released inside her. He wouldn’t look like that unless Gwen was all right.
His safe return changed the tone in the whole house. No one sent her looks of recrimination anymore, and further new arrivals—including Count Oswin, his son, and numerous rebels Charlotte didn’t recognize—only increased the buzz in the atmosphere. And best of all, Charlotte even saw Natalie slip in, unnoticed in the chaos except by Charlotte and Baden.
“Thank goodness,” Baden muttered to his sister. “Mother was starting to talk about sending me out to look for you.”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “As if you would have been able to find me.”
“That’s what I tried to tell her,” he replied, unoffended by her response.
Patti finally noticed her daughter’s arrival, pulling her in to help with the evening meal, and Charlotte went with them. In the kitchen, surrounded by women who worked around and over each other, their voices and hands overlapping as they prepared a last-minute feed for a crowd, she could almost pretend she was back home in the valleys. The mountain people might be the stuff of fairy tales, but they gathered together and shared meals to mark significant occasions just as the valley folk did. She only wished Henry was there with her. As it was, she kept looking over her shoulder, half-expecting to see him. Without him present, something essential was missing.
When the count and his son transformed into bears, there was only a small ripple of unease among the rebels present which spoke of how much the two of them were trusted. And when everyone had eaten their fill, they gathered back in the sitting room, faces turning serious. There weren’t enough seats for everyone—especially with the count and his son in their bear forms—so Charlotte wedged herself into a corner, content to sit on the floor. This had been their fight long before it was hers, and while they were allies, they had different final goals.
As quiet finally settled on the room, everyone having found a place, Charlotte noticed the way everyone’s attention turned to Easton. He was a recent arrival just like her, but he belonged here in a way she didn’t. Already the rebels were looking to him as much as Count Oswin as their leader. Clearly they had accepted the idea of him as future king.
“I spoke to the princess,” he said, his voice grave. “And I learned something important.” He paused and everyone stayed silent, attentive. “Celandine’s reign is illegitimate. She never married King Isander. She was never truly queen.”
Murmurs and exclamations swept the group. Charlotte felt no great surprise, though. She had only heard the story of the king’s marriage earlier that day, and unfettered by years of accepting it as truth—especially knowing what they did now of Celandine—the whole tale had sounded implausible to her.
“Does the princess have proof?” asked a rebel Charlotte didn’t know.
Easton shook his head, his expression grim. “Unfortunately not. She only pieced it all together today after finally discovering Celandine isn’t her mother. She knows the story isn’t true because she remembers their visit to the lodge. She was with her father the whole time, and Celandine wasn’t there like she claimed she was. But twenty-year-old memories aren’t proof.”
“They’re proof enough for me,” someone muttered, and several people called out agreement.
“It’s enough for me, too,” Easton said. “But it isn’t enough to march into the palace right now and remove her from the throne. I hope we can use the information, though. It’s another tool to sway the court when we make our move.”
Heads nodded in all directions.
“I also got confirmation that the wedding is planned for the day after tomorrow,” he said. “Which means we need to start planning how we get ourselves into the palace. From what I’ve learned, we won’t want to leave it until the last minute. At the moment, the queen is busy punishing her guards for failing to catch Charlotte.”
Heads briefly turned in her direction, and she managed an awkward smile.
“She has them training from sunup to sundown,” Easton continued, “which means there are only the standard patrols in the gardens, and they’re tired and making sloppy mistakes. But it will be different on the wedding day itself. Every guard will be on duty, watching the perimeter of the gardens and the palace. And they’ll all be on high alert since they’ll be released from the extra training if the wedding goes smoothly.”
“So we need to get in the day before,” Jett said, leaning forward. “Tomorrow. We need our whole force concealed in the palace before sundown the day before the wedding.”
“Is that even possible?” Dane asked doubtfully.
Count Oswin exchanged a look with his son. “I think I can help with that. It can be done.”
“Wait.” Jett held up his hand. “Don’t say any more details now. I trust you know what you’re doing, and the less we all know ahead of time the better.”
He cast a look around the group, and Charlotte expected to hear protests or at least looks of discontent at the implication they weren’t trustworthy. But all she saw were grim nods of approval. Apparently after twenty years, the rebels were past personal affront, their focus only on the success of their mission.
They discussed who would be present and how large a force they would need, the conversation washing over Charlotte since she recognized none of the names. The rebels who lived nearby started leaving, willing to brave the city at night if they lived in the neighboring streets.
As each one left, Easton and the count took them aside, murmuring at what time and from which direction they should enter the palace grounds the next day. From the occasional overheard whisper, Charlotte gathered they would be trickling in forces all day rather than risk a larger group attracting attention.
Others—those who lived in different parts of the city—were staying the night. They still gave their farewells and received their information, however, departing for the beds prepared for them on the upper story.
Eventually, Charlotte was once again alone with the original core group.
“Is it really that simple?” she asked.
The count sighed. “I imagine the reality will be anything but simple, but there’s only so much we can prepare in advance.”
“Talking about preparing in advance…” Patti hauled herself to her feet. “We’d better do some preparations for the morning meal now.” She gave her husband a significant look before seizing an arm of each of her children. “You can all help me.”
Both Natalie and Baden protested, but she swept them firmly from the room, her husband trailing behind. Charlotte threw a confused look at Easton, but it was the count who explained.
“They’re going to stay behind tomorrow,” he said. “If something goes wrong, we need someone left who can coordinate whatever rebel forces remain.”
“Jett and I want to be with our son,” Lydia said softly, “but Natalie is only fourteen, and Rebecca is even younger. Patti and Dane want to keep their children here safe, and we understand that.”
“And we’re needed more than they are, anyway,” Easton said. “None of the city rebels know the palace like me and my parents do. We’ll be the ones to meet each incoming pair and lead them to the hiding place.” He looked at the count. “Which means we need to know where it is.”
“My son’s apartment,” the count said immediately. “It’s large enough to fit everyone.”
“And it won’t be suspected?” Easton asked skeptically.
“You wouldn’t be aware since you haven’t been here,” the count said, “but this is the first time my son has been at any rebel meeting. He’s been part of our cause from the beginning, but the queen has been starting to grow suspicious of me—something I have long feared was coming. In preparation for such an eventuality, my son and I have cultivated the appearance that we’ve fallen out and barely tolerate each other. Most of the court believe we only maintain any contact because of Emmett. Everyone knows I wouldn’t do anything to risk losing contact with my grandson. As a result, while Celandine has started excluding me where possible in the last weeks, my son still holds his position of respect as the leader of the trading groups that cross the mountains.”
Charlotte turned a disapproving look on the younger man who had been almost silent the entire evening. She didn’t appreciate working with someone responsible for snatching innocent valley folk to become slaves for the queen. Easton was regarding him with the same cold look and visible shame washed over the nobleman.
“I’m not unaware of my own wrongdoing,” he said in a low voice. “In the early days, I thought…” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. But I came to realize my mistake and—” He turned to Easton. “Ask your princess. She can confirm there haven’t been any new captives for a long time.”
“Except for Henry,” Charlotte said, ice in her voice.
The count’s son—whose name she didn’t even know, she realized—looked at her guiltily.
“That’s different,” he said. “He wasn’t intended as a long-term captive. We thought he would break the enchantment and allow us to free everyone—the mountain people and the valley captives—from the queen. We didn’t know—” He glanced at Easton and grimaced.
“We’ve done the best we can,” the count said firmly. “And, more importantly, we’re doing our best now to fix our mistakes. If you want to insist on retribution anyway, we all might suffer.”
Charlotte deflated, her cheeks flushing. She was the last person who should be raking someone over the coals for past mistakes. The pressure of Henry’s arms around her and the feel of his lips on hers filled her mind. When he had woken to find her with him in the palace, there had been no lingering trace of judgment in his eyes for her own colossal mistake.
Easton nodded. “If the mountain kingdom is going to have a new future, we can’t begin with a pointless game of assigning blame. Celandine is the problem, and we all need to be focused on removing her and her loyal guards from power.”
“What about the remaining loyal members of court?” the count’s son asked, his voice tentative. Charlotte wondered how many of them were his friends.
“The newest piece of information about the illegitimacy of Celandine’s reign should help in their case,” Easton said. “I believe that when they realize they were tricked, it will be enough to sway them into accepting the reality of the change of power.”
Both Count Oswin and his son relaxed. Had they been worrying about a bloodbath after Gwen took the throne? If so, they didn’t know her very well. Charlotte herself had only known Gwen for a short time, but she knew such vengeful violence wasn’t in her nature. Gwen had cared for Charlotte from the moment they met, even when they were virtual strangers.
“What about the queen?” Jett asked. “Do we have a way to restrain her during the change in the ceremony? Because without that…”
“Actually, Gwen has a plan for that,” Charlotte said, thinking of the apple. “She’s found a way to make use of her stash of godmother objects.”
“Excellent,” the count said briskly. “In that case, we’ll find a way to make contact with the princess once everyone is safely hidden in the palace. We would have needed to do that anyway.”
“There’s one last matter,” Jett said. “We didn’t want to mention it with the broader group in case anyone became overenthusiastic and started spreading hints too early. But it would be best if we can include the people of the city in the changeover of power—and not just the prominent citizens invited to the wedding. I’m picturing a crowd who could burst into the palace in support of Queen Gwendolyn at the optimal moment.”
The count and his son exchanged a look, brows knit. Rousing the inhabitants of the city was outside their area of influence.
“We can help with that!” Natalie burst into the room, dragging Baden with her.
The rest of the adults gave her disapproving looks, but Charlotte just grinned. Of course Natalie had been lurking in the corridor, listening. Was there anything surprising in that? The girl didn’t believe in limits.
“And how could you help?” Lydia asked, somehow making the words sound kind rather than dismissive.
“We’ll send out word for the youth to gather. Since we gather whenever the boredom gets overwhelming, it won’t raise any suspicion. And no one would betray us to the adults.” She wrinkled her nose, as if such an act was unthinkable. “Once everyone is there—right when the wedding is happening—we’ll let them know why they’re really there and send them home to rouse their families.”
Easton looked thoughtful. “That might actually work.”
“Of course it will work,” Natalie said.
Charlotte suppressed another laugh. Natalie had an impressive ability to be both infuriating and likable.
“In that case, we have our plans.” The count rose. “And now these old bones need to get to a bed. Once upon a time, I could function on little to no sleep, but those days are long behind me, regardless of my form.”
Lydia led him and his son out, and Charlotte was left to wonder if there was any chance everything would go as they’d planned.