Page 51 of To Steal the Sun

Charlotte backtracked, dragging Henry with her as she took the other direction. He seemed almost reluctant, though, his eyes frantically darting all around them.

They careened around a corner, and Charlotte discovered the source of his reluctance. They had reached a dead end.

She barely managed to stop herself from running headlong into the smooth stone wall.

“A window?” she rasped out, struggling to catch her breath.

A low growl rumbled down the corridor, building as two voices overlapped. She spun around, her knees nearly giving out at the sight of two enormous white bears prowling toward them.

Her arm throbbed in memory, and she whimpered. Henry stepped in front of her, his face determined, and it galvanized her into action, strengthening her knees. She looked around, but the windows here had crossed panes. She didn’t think she could smash them if she tried.

“We surrender!” she called quickly, raising both hands.

The bears didn’t pause, continuing to pace toward them. Henry had never lost his human side, and Gwen had claimed to be the same. But these bears looked like predators to her, their eyes dark and fixed on their prey. Were they lost in the hunt?

Henry backed up, pushing her behind him, but all too soon, her back hit the wall and his hit her. They both stopped.

“If only I was still a bear myself!” Henry muttered, and for the first time Charlotte wished his bear form back. Without it, it looked like they were about to die.

GWEN

Celandine 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.

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