Page 26 of To Ride the Wind

“You have grown into a lovely lady, my dear.”

Was Gwen’s panic showing in her eyes? She stared at her reflection, trying to see it the way her mother might. The face that looked back was strikingly similar to the life-size portrait of the previous king that stood in the line of monarchs that graced the throne room. Gwen might not have inherited the stunning, fair-haired beauty of her mother, but she still looked both beautiful and royal. A dark-haired princess with a pale, but otherwise composed, face. Her mouth was even curved slightly upward. The expression didn’t touch her eyes, but perhaps her mother considered that normal.

The young woman in the mirror was Princess Gwendolyn, not Gwen. The reminder let Gwen breathe more freely.

“In truth, I’ve been remiss in my duties,” her mother continued, not bothering to wait for a reply.

Gwen could barely keep her face still, unable to fathom what her mother could be referencing. The queen never criticized herself. She gave a laugh, a tinkling sound that never failed to grate on Gwen’s nerves.

“I can see I’ve surprised you, my dear. I’ve been half-expecting you to ask me about it, but I’m gratified you’re so content to remain here with only me.”

“Ask you about what, Mother?” Gwen asked carefully, still with no idea what her mother was talking about.

“Why, your marriage, of course! You are old enough for it—and past age according to some.” She laughed again. “But even the most impatient must recognize a mother’s heart. What parent wants to give their precious child away to another?”

“You want to give me away?” Gwen asked, too dazed to filter her words.

The brush yanked downward, making her wince.

“Aren’t you listening?” the queen asked, an edge to her voice. “I said I don’t want to give you away.”

“I…I apologize,” Gwen stammered out, still lost. “But why are we talking of my marriage?”

“Because it is time, of course,” the queen said calmly, her eyes meeting Gwen’s wide ones in the mirror.

Gwen’s mouth dropped open, not even fear of her mother enough to suppress her shock. “You want me to get married? To whom?”

While she had always dreamed of escaping from under her mother’s eye, she had never thought of marriage as the answer. Surrounded by no one but the servants and the cold court, there was only one person who had ever occupied her heart. And he was never coming. She had given up hope of that a long time ago. She didn’t even know if he was alive.

Her mind raced through the various courtiers, but she couldn’t think of anyone eligible enough to appeal to her mother. She certainly couldn’t think of anyone she could stomach marrying.

“To a prince, of course,” the queen said. “Only royalty could be worthy of the princess of the mountain kingdom.”

“A prince?” Gwen frowned. “But there are no princes here.” Slowly the truth broke over her, and her eyes flew up to meet her mother’s in the mirror. “You want me to marry a lowlander?”

It was inconceivable. She knew the valleys existed, of course, and the captive valley folk had assured her the lowlands existed beyond them. But the valleys had always seemed a part of the mountains—if a distant part—while the kingdoms beyond were as distant as a fairy tale.

She started to rise to her feet, but her mother’s hand tightened on her shoulder, pushing her back into place. Gwen slumped into the seat, her mind whirling. A lowlander prince? Did the lowland royals even know the mountain kingdom existed? Which of them would want to brave the mountains and make their home there?

Gwen didn’t fool herself for even a second thinking that her mother might plan to release Gwen, sending her off to a far kingdom. The idea was appealing, but she knew it to be nonsense. Her mother would never let her go. Even if she had another heir—and she did not—she wasn’t the type to relinquish anything that belonged to her.

“I don’t like that term,” her mother said stiffly, showing more restraint than she usually did when they were alone.

Gwen murmured an apology. Her surprise had betrayed her into using the term of her childhood, although she had never understood what issue her mother had with it.

“Are not all lands equal?” her mother asked. “What is high that cannot be brought low and what is low that cannot be made high?”

Gwen kept her eyes lowered, not wanting her mother to see the skepticism in them. Queen Celandine was the last person to believe in the equality of all. Whatever her true objection, it wasn’t over some imagined slight against the lowlanders.

“We must think of them as an extension of our own people,” her mother continued in the gracious tones she usually used in company. “Indeed, after your marriage, they will be as much your people as our own citizens are.”

Gwen frowned. Her mother’s words sounded conciliatory enough, but there was something predatory in her tone. Did she hope to use Gwen’s marriage to extend her own influence? That would be like her mother, but it seemed pointless when the mountains created a barrier that would forever separate them from the other kingdoms. Passage between the mountain kingdoms and the lowland kingdoms was difficult enough to keep them apart forever. Gwen’s marriage couldn’t turn mountains into valleys.

“You need not concern yourself with the details,” her mother said, as if reading her thoughts. “You need only prepare yourself for your marriage.”

Gwen looked up again. “Is it that soon? Who is the groom?”

“He will be here soon enough,” her mother said, ignoring the question about his identity. “And when your prince arrives, we must not delay. This afternoon, the seamstresses will attend you and take your measurements. You will need an entire new wardrobe before you’re married.”

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