Page 25 of To Ride the Wind

For the second time, Gwen woke to find herself on the floor. This time she was slumped by her door, and the warm sunlight bathing her had driven away the sleepiness. But the exhaustion had been replaced with stiff muscles and aching bruises. This was why she usually slept in her bed, no matter how frustrating she found her long slumbers.

Standing slowly, Gwen gingerly tried her handle. It turned without resistance. Had she dreamed of the door being locked?

But Gwen refused to believe the night’s discovery had been only the muddle of sleep. She could still feel the lingering indignation and fright at finding herself locked in. So why had she so tamely fallen back asleep? She had succeeded in waking in the night, but it had gained her nothing.

No, Gwen corrected herself. It gained me knowledge.

She had hoped to gain even more knowledge from an open conversation with the captives, but at least she had learned something. Between the guards and her locked door, she was now certain that something went on in the palace grounds at night—something she was being deliberately excluded from.

Gwen’s eyes fell on her cabinet, now bereft of its small treasure. Other memories of the night before flooded back. Why had she never considered the regular citizens of the mountain kingdom? She had spent years pitying herself and the captive servants while overlooking a whole city full of people suffering at her mother’s hands. Why had she never spared them a thought?

She could only conclude it was because she had no contact with them. To her, the people of the mountain kingdom were her mother’s court—perpetual strangers who shut her out and kept her mother’s secrets.

She knew better now. The regular people wore the face of a fourteen-year-old girl, full of the dreams of a child and the courage of youth. But while Gwen had gained knowledge the night before, she had acquired no extra power.

Still, she couldn’t shake the thought of the girl all through breakfast. She ate well, hungry from her small meal the night before, but when she finished, she looked at her mother.

“I’m planning to go riding this morning,” she ventured, holding her breath while she waited to see how her mother would react.

From the queen’s calm behavior through the meal, she didn’t seem to have received a report of Gwen’s misbehavior the previous evening. But it was possible she knew and was just waiting for an opportune moment to bring down the hammer.

“Not today, my dear,” her mother said, and Gwen’s heart sank.

The only time she ever escaped the palace grounds was on horseback. Usually, she rode alongside her mother, but on occasion she rode with only two guards as companions. In the past, she had always headed to the edge of the valley on such rides, wanting to get away from everyone and as close to the wilderness as possible. But she had a different plan in mind this time. She wanted to ride toward the city and see if she could glimpse the ordinary life of its inhabitants.

But it seemed the guards had reported her after all.

Gwen could barely suppress her trembling as she looked at her mother, but Queen Celandine’s smile didn’t fade. And while it didn’t reach her eyes, that was normal and not any cause for particular concern.

But somehow Gwen only felt more afraid. She almost wanted the punishment to fall just to escape the limbo of waiting.

“Really, my dear,” her mother said, her voice sharpening. “Must you always look so diffident and uncertain? How many times have I reminded you that you’re my heir and will one day rule the mountain kingdom? How can our people be expected to follow a girl who can’t even string two words together in the presence of her own mother?”

Gwen swallowed. She knew she needed to answer, but she couldn’t think of the right words. Her mother certainly didn’t show any appreciation if Gwen ever spoke with strength or confidence. In that case Gwen was unattractively defiant and impudent and needed to learn respect for her elders and monarch.

“Yes, Mother,” she said finally.

Easton would have known what to say—how to tread the exact line between diffidence and insolence—but Gwen’s mind all too often froze in her mother’s presence.

The queen sighed, as if she should have known it was futile to expect better of Gwen. “This is why you need me. Without me, you would be nothing. But you needn’t fear. I will always be here for you.”

The words should have sent a chill down Gwen’s spine, but they were too familiar to warrant a reaction. Her mother rarely commented on Gwen’s many deficiencies without saying something similar.

The queen surveyed her silent daughter and spoke again. “It’s been too long since we spent time together.”

Gwen stared at her, speechless. Spend time together? When had they ever done such a thing?

“I have some things to speak to you about,” the queen continued.

When Gwen still didn’t answer, the queen’s brows contracted. She looked nettled by her daughter’s obvious confusion, so Gwen schooled her expression and nodded obediently.

The effort satisfied her mother somewhat, so Gwen relaxed slightly. But as she trailed behind her mother all the way up to her room, her mind raced, even as she kept her face placid and calm. Was this some elaborate scheme to enable a new form of punishment? What was her mother planning to do to Gwen in the privacy of Gwen’s room?

Her mother had never physically hit her—although her words often felt like blows—but locked away in the dark as a child, Gwen had understood her mother was capable of anything. When they reached her room, however, the queen’s false smile was still firmly in place.

As Gwen followed her mother’s directions and sat at her dressing table, she had to fight against terror. Gazing into the mirror, she met her mother’s eyes where she stood behind her, and the longer they held, the more terrible the queen’s smile grew. Gwen dreaded her mother’s anger, but somehow this pretense of friendly affection was even worse. What lay behind it?

When her mother’s fingers pulled at her hair, Gwen had to use every ounce of her self-control to hold herself still. With a few swift tugs, her mother released the hasty arrangement Gwen had managed before breakfast. Once her hair was flowing freely down her back, her mother picked up a brush and began to run it through her locks. While her hands moved, she smiled at her daughter in the mirror.

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