20. Gwen
GWEN
C elandine dragged Gwen along the corridor, but they didn’t go far. When she reached Gwen’s room, she pushed her inside, finally releasing her ear. Gwen staggered, rubbing at it.
As soon as she regained her balance, she lunged for the door, but the queen moved quicker. Grabbing one of Gwen’s arms, she twisted it behind her, immobilizing her.
Gwen panted, desperation fighting with her desire not to give Celandine the satisfaction of seeing her break.
“I thought you had finally learned your lesson,” Celandine snarled. “Learned that you’re nothing without me. Why else would you come crawling back?”
“I came back because someone had to stand up to you,” Gwen snapped. “You’ve plagued this kingdom long enough!”
Celandine snarled again and thrust Gwen toward the wall. Too late Gwen realized what she was doing. She must have prepared because the door to the servant room was propped open, the small space inside a looming darkness.
Gwen cried out, grabbing with her free hand at the edge of the doorframe. But Celandine twisted her other arm, angling Gwen so that her precarious hold slipped free, and she stumbled into the room. Again she turned and lunged for the door, and again Celandine moved too quickly for her, this time slamming the door in her face. Gwen collided with the solid surface, slamming her nose against it.
She fell back, her eyes stinging with more than pain. It couldn’t be happening. Not all over again.
Distantly, she heard a key turn in the lock. Holding herself together by the barest thread, she stumbled over and tried the handle anyway. It had to open. It had to open.
It didn’t open. She slumped to the floor, a sob tearing from her throat. She had come so far. She had finally found her strength and defied Celandine to her face, and yet here she was back where she had begun.
The darkness pressed on her like a physical force, and with the barest whimper, Gwen’s senses slipped away from her. She could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing except the presence of her panic, sliding down her throat and up her middle and coating her hands. She buried her head in her hands, trying to drown it out, to hide from it.
A scream burned up her throat, but it came out like a whimper, her chest unable to expand enough for any volume.
Dark. Dark. Dark. Dark. Dark. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.
The words echoed in her mind until they had no meaning. She was going to die here. She would grow hungry and thirsty—so thirsty—until the pain stopped gnawing at her and consumed her whole.
She would never even see the light again. She had thought Celandine had already stolen everything from her, but now she had even stolen the sun. Gwen would die in darkness.
She curled in on herself, time losing all meaning.
At one point, something echoed distantly. Some outside sound or presence. Her brain reached for it, but it was too far away to properly grasp. A pounding perhaps. Or even her name?
Gradually, too gradually, it permeated into her brain, pushing back the darkness. Had she only imagined it, or was someone there?
She staggered to her feet, her muscles contracting strangely, as if they’d forgotten how to work. Someone was there, and they would rescue her.
“Please!” she called, pounding on her side of the door. “Please! Is there someone there?”
She was greeted only with silence. She had taken too long to respond, and whoever had been there must have left.
Tears dripped unheeded down her cheeks, and shame filled her. She was a grown woman, and all that was needed to reduce her to this was to be locked in a small space. It made no logical sense. She knew that. But she couldn’t fight the sheer terror that had her in its grip, her younger self rising to swallow the new her.
She pounded again and again until her hands hurt, but no one responded. She was alone once again.
She slid down to sitting again, but she had regained some measure of calm. It was dark in here but not nearly as small as that dreaded closet where she had been confined for days after Easton’s banishment. She could move and stretch out. Even lie down when she got tired.
It was surprising the queen had put her in such a large space, even if it was conveniently close.
Remembering the sequence of events that had led her here wasn’t pleasant, but it helped her cling to the grip of her sanity. She had endured worse. She could endure this too. She could endure until someone came to rescue her. This time Easton would come for her.
And then the tingling started. Gwen fell forward, her mind seizing as the tearing sensation began. She was growing bigger, so much bigger, and the space was growing smaller. The walls really were closing in on her. And they wouldn’t stop. They would keep going until Gwen was squeezed to death, her bones and muscles sandwiched flat, and her life extinguished. There would be no need to wait for the hunger and the dehydration.
The scream fought its way out, coming out as a terrifying baying, howling growl that sounded horrifyingly inhuman. She would never be herself again, never be held by Easton again. She was alone. It was dark, and she was alone.
She thrashed around, no longer conscious of what she was doing, just desperate for an escape from the darkness around her and her own mind. Coherent thought had fled, and she had only wordless impressions and fear, fear, fear. So much fear.
Gwen had no idea how much time passed in that state. She had no more sense of its passage than she had rational thought. But eventually, a single image intruded.
Easton. His face appeared in her mind’s eye, driving back the darkness. He was coming to the palace to face the queen, and if Gwen stayed stuck here, he would face her alone. Another face appeared. Alma, followed by Miriam. What was her mother doing to them while Gwen remained trapped here?
Other faces crowded in. Charlotte. Natalie. Easton’s mother, who had always been kind to Gwen and now apparently lived in the city. Even Count Oswin.
The queen had tormented Gwen for years, but she had also tormented these people. If Gwen gave in completely to her panic, Celandine won. And yet…And yet…
Gwen put her head in her hands, only to find she was reaching up with paws instead of fingers. She froze, closing her eyes against the terrifying, encroaching black around her, and thought of nothing but her body. She could feel its unfamiliar shape, the pulsing strength of her muscles, and the sharp points of her claws and teeth.
Her mother thought Gwen was a victim. She shut her away thinking she would buckle and collapse. And Gwen had nearly done exactly that. But Gwen was finished being a victim. She hated the dark, and she would never like small places, but this room wasn’t her tomb. She had strength still. And it was time to use it.
With a growl that built in volume and strength, she turned to where she knew the door was. Rearing back on her hind legs, she fell forward with her full force against the wood, claws extended. It cracked. She reared back again and fell forward, paws swiping as she descended. The door splintered, one of her paws breaking through, and light burst in.
She blinked, her eyes stinging at the sudden illumination. Shutting them, she lowered her head and rammed the shards of the door. It teetered and collapsed outward, sections of the wood snapping completely.
Gwen staggered through the opening into the untouched chaos of her bedchamber. The room had never looked so beautiful to her.
She collapsed, sucking in long, sweet breaths as her eyes adjusted to the light. Then she lumbered to her feet, shaking herself. While she would always avoid small, dark places if possible, they would never have the same hold on her again—not now she had fought her way free.
She breathed in, sucking the air through her nose, and froze. Easton and Charlotte. She easily picked their scents from everything else—fresh but not immediately so. Someone had been there! It was his voice she’d heard!
But where were they now? She tensed, the lingering fear still bubbling through her veins, convincing her they must be in trouble.
The door to her room was ajar, allowing her to easily push through. I’m coming, she thought silently, lifting her snout to sniff the air.
Easton’s scent was fainter out here, harder to pinpoint. But Charlotte’s seemed fresh. Gwen followed it to the door of a random, unused bedchamber on the opposite side of the corridor. She frowned. What could Charlotte have been doing there?
She didn’t seem to have gone inside, though. Her scent continued down the corridor toward Henry’s room instead, which made far more sense. Gwen followed, the physical activity driving out the remaining trembling and weakness in her limbs.
She stopped outside Henry’s room. Should she try to open the door? But Charlotte’s scent lingered in the corridor, and it was joined by a new one. Gwen frowned, considering. Unlike Charlotte and Easton, she had never smelled Henry while in her bear form. But something about the new scent felt vaguely familiar. If she had to guess, she thought it was him.
Intrigued, Gwen hurried faster, following the scent of the two of them. It wasn’t part of the plan for Charlotte to free Henry at this point. What had been happening in her absence?
A third scent appeared, triggering a low growl. The new one was unfamiliar, but it screamed of a threat. Here in the palace, an unknown bear could only mean one thing. Charlotte and Henry were being pursued.
Gwen broke into a lumbering run, bumping against walls as she rounded corners, her ears picking up the distant sound of overlapping growls. She pushed herself still faster.
She reached a familiar intersection, the sounds and smells coming from the dead end on the left. She didn’t hesitate as she raced around the final corner.
Several things reached her consciousness at once.
Charlotte and Henry were trapped against the wall, and Charlotte’s arms were raised in surrender. The two bears weren’t stopping, however. They advanced on the two smaller figures, their growls threatening.
Had they lost their minds? Or had the queen ordered that Charlotte was to be killed if found? Henry was likely to die attempting to protect her if so.
Fury ripped through Gwen. A growl she didn’t know she could produce thundered down the corridor, and she leaped forward, claws flashing.
She raked the rump of the bear on the left. He whined, falling sideways away from her. She leaped again, flying through the opening he had created and stopping just short of her friends’ astonished faces.
Spinning, she lowered her head, her ears pinned back as she growled a warning.
The other two bears responded in kind, but their eyes showed confusion. They had no idea who she was.
The uninjured one tried to lunge forward, and Gwen slashed at him, her movement so quick her eyes couldn’t follow. A trail of red down his arm was left in her wake. He pulled back, his gaze growing even more wary.
Gwen peeled her lips back and growled in satisfaction. The guards liked using their bear forms to terrorize the city, but they weren’t used to facing another bear.
“Don’t touch them!” she said in a low, threatening voice.
“Gwen!” Charlotte cried in recognition. “Oh, thank goodness.”
The two guards froze, exchanging looks. Their confusion had overtaken whatever bloodlust or order had driven them. Like the rest of the palace and city, they had no idea their princess turned into a bear at night just like them.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said, her words clear despite her gravelly bear voice. “I’m your princess, and I order you to stand down. Now!” She roared the last word, and they both fell back, looking terrified.
Gwen smiled, feeling a different kind of strength coursing through her. She was not only finished being a victim, she was finished being the pure princess who hid in her room and earned her supposed virtue through inaction. She was done cowering and hiding. No matter what her form, Queen Gwendolyn would stand in the breach for the weaker members of her kingdom every time it was needed.
“A…apologies,” the guard with the injured rump stammered, clearly not knowing what to do with her.
She wasn’t their queen, but they did think she was their queen’s daughter, and they knew she would soon sit on the throne. It was no surprise when they both turned tail and ran.
“Gwen!” Charlotte ran forward, tears in her eyes, and flung her arms around Gwen’s neck.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Henry said more carefully. “You arrived at just the right moment.”
Gwen leaned into Charlotte’s hug for a moment, catching her breath.
“We should get moving,” she said. “I don’t know who those guards are going to report to, but word will get back to Celandine soon that we’re here.”
Henry grimaced. “We were hoping to keep my escape secret for longer.”
“Never mind that,” Charlotte said. “We need to take Gwen to Easton. He’s worried sick.”
“Easton?” Gwen’s eyes lit up. “You know where he is?”
Charlotte nodded. “The queen caught all the other rebels, but Easton and I had gone looking for you, so we weren’t there yet. I made him hide, and he promised he’d stay there.” She smiled brightly. “And now he’s about to be rewarded for his superhuman forbearance.”
“Wait, Celandine caught the others?” Gwen cried, dismayed. “All of them?”
Charlotte winced. “I’m afraid so. Even Emmett.”
“What?” Gwen stared at her, her mind racing. What was going to happen to the plan now?
“Come on,” Charlotte said. “I might need the two of you to help me find the way. I’m fairly sure I remember the place, but…” She smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. “We can work out what to do once all four of us are together.”