Page 48 of To Ride the Wind

Even so, anger swept through her. Her mother was the mountain queen and responsible for her people. How could she enchant some and terrorize others without qualm?

And what of Gwen’s supposed new husband? The revelations of the night had been so shocking that Gwen felt only bewildered amusement at the thought of the unknown prince. How did her mother intend to hide Gwen’s nighttime form from a lowlander husband? The entire plan went beyond foolhardy.

Gwen wanted to charge into her mother’s wing and demand immediate answers. But enough caution remained to hold her back. As soon as her mother saw Gwen awake in her bear form, she would know her daughter had undertaken the ultimate defiance. It was wiser by far to approach her during the day.

Her best choice, however painful, was to go back to her room and wait until morning transformed her back again. But what about her clothes? In all the shock she hadn’t given them a thought.

Remembering the moment of change, however, she was sure they hadn’t torn as she grew. They had simply…disappeared.

Dismay swept through her. Presumably they would reappear when she turned human again—she had always woken in the same nightgown she had gone to sleep in—but what about the key concealed in her pocket? That had disappeared along with the clothes. Would it reappear with them? And even if it did, what would she do in the meantime? She was trapped outside her room for the remaining nighttime hours.

She looked down at her huge paws, unsure if she’d even be able to work a key or turn a handle in the form of a bear. With a wince, she remembered she had tried to turn a handle with bear paws once before without much success. On the night she’d discovered her room was locked, the drug had been so strong in her system that she’d barely been able to open her eyes as she dragged herself to the door. She’d been so dazed, she hadn’t noticed the strangeness of her body, attributing her heavy, cumbersome limbs to the pull of sleep. But how could she have woken—however partially—and not noticed her change of shape?

She had plenty more hours to berate herself as she waited for the first sliver of dawn. When it came, she welcomed the crawling, itchy sensation and the tearing which she had found so unnerving the first time. When she was driven to her hands and knees, she felt only relief thanks to the sight of her usual shapely hands.

As she jumped to her feet, her hand flew to her pocket. Relief flooded her as her fingers closed around the key. Running through the corridors, she favored speed over concealment in the race for her door.

She dropped the key in her haste to fit it into her lock, but finally she got the door open and herself inside. She even remembered to re-lock the door, although climbing back into bed was more than she could manage.

Thankfully when she heard someone outside unlocking the door, the unseen jailer made no effort to look inside and check on her. She had time to compose herself before the appointed hour for breakfast and her upcoming confrontation with the queen. Time she greatly needed.

She dressed slowly, choosing her clothing with care as she slipped back into the role of the stately, elegant Princess Gwendolyn—the royal heir who always knew how to look the part of a princess, even when she was screaming inside. She had never been so neat and well-dressed for breakfast before, and she entered the room with her head high. It was empty.

Taking her place behind her chair, unable to bring herself to sit, Gwen waited.

GWEN

When Queen Celandine appeared, she paused in the doorway, regarding Gwen with raised brows. “You’re here early, my dear.” Her tone didn’t indicate whether she thought it a good or bad thing.

“I’m here,” Gwen said through gritted teeth, trying to hold onto her courage now she was actually facing her mother, “for real answers. You cannot possibly mean for me to marry a lowlander prince.”

The queen’s brows rose even further. “Really, my dear, must you use that language?” She walked unhurriedly to the table and sat. “I’m not sure why you find the idea so impossible. Who else should you marry if not a prince?”

Something in the look she gave Gwen—as if she knew who Gwen would rather marry and was mocking her for it—sent anger searing through Gwen’s veins. The emotion overpowered the instinctive fear she felt in her mother’s presence.

“Oh really?” she spat out. “So you’re intending to tell the lowlanders the truth about us? Or do you think you can excuse why a husband and wife need separate chambers at night?”

The queen’s hand stilled, her knuckles growing white around her fork.

“What do you mean?” she asked, the words coming out a fraction too quickly.

Satisfaction surged through Gwen. For the first time she had succeeded in rattling her mother.

“Oh, I don’t know, Mother. I suppose I’m thinking that my husband might be a little surprised to discover his bride turns into a bear each nightfall! And when he finds out I’m not the only one, he may suspect a conspiracy against him.”

“Silence!” The queen leaped to her feet, sending her chair clattering to the floor behind her. “How dare you!”

She reached Gwen in two strides, slapping her hard across the cheek. The blow sent Gwen staggering back, her hands flying to her face. Her mother had never hit her before, and the shocking pain brought her fear rushing back.

It was too late to back down now, though. She had revealed her knowledge to her mother, and she couldn’t take it back.

“Never say that aloud,” the queen hissed. “Anyone might have heard you!”

“So you are keeping me a secret from everyone.” Gwen tried to keep her voice from shaking. “But why? If the whole kingdom knows the palace’s inhabitants become bears at night, why can’t they know their princess does as well?”

Her mother clapped a hand over Gwen’s mouth, silencing her. Gwen pulled back.

“But why?” she cried. “What difference does it make?”

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