Page 30 of To Steal the Sun

Walking slowly over to her bureau, Gwen stared down at the various jars, bottles, brushes, and handheld mirrors arranged on its top in an orderly fashion. Half in a dream, she reached out one arm and swept it all off with enough force to send some of the smaller items hurtling into the wall.

They fell with various crashes, bangs, and tinkles as glass smashed and liquid sloshed onto the carpet. The cacophony drove back the dreamlike feeling, and a burst of energy took its place.

She stared at herself in the mirror, a smile growing on her face as she reached up and tugged at the mirror’s edges. For a second it resisted before pulling sharply free and crashing against the surface of the bureau. Buzzing, Gwen moved to the wardrobe, ripping its doors open so violently that one of them pulled free of its lower hinge.

She seized the contents in large armfuls, tossing the garments over her shoulder and seizing more until the wardrobe was empty. But it wasn’t enough. Bracing one shoulder against the side of the robe, she shoved with all her strength. At first it resisted, but she gritted her teeth and shoved harder. It wobbled once and then crashed over with a muffled thud.

She swept on, upending the bedside cabinet and pulling out all its drawers, tipping over the table and chair where she had eaten countless meals. Gripping the curtains of the bed in both hands, she pulled, reveling in the feeling of them ripping free and collapsing to the ground around her.

As she looked around for something else to overturn, she felt the now familiar itchy tingling, followed by the tearing sensation. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the change to finish. When she opened them again, she looked down at enormous paws and sharp claws and her smile returned.

Turning on the bed, she unleashed her bear strength, ripping through the pillows until feathers floated through the room in all directions. She tore at the bedspread and even the mattress underneath, leaving them in ribbons.

The curtains on the windows came next, and the upholstery on the chairs. Then she turned her claws against the walls themselves, ripping long gouges down the wallpaper.

It felt good to be reckless and even better to use the full strength of this new form. In the days since she had stopped taking the drugged drink each night, she had been so careful and so restrained whenever she was a bear. But now she felt her muscles stretching and straining, and it felt good.

Part of her worried guiltily about destroying items that still had use in them. Some had even been beautiful. But at the same time, she knew she could never sleep in that bed again or sit in one of those chairs. She had been obediently doing so for twenty years, and now they represented nothing but captivity of both her body and mind.

She sat back on her haunches and surveyed the destroyed room with satisfaction. Princess Gwendolyn would never have dared do anything so dramatic and defiant. This was no longer Princess Gwendolyn’s room, and Gwen was no longer surrounded by a familiarity she didn’t want. Everything about this scene was sharp and uncomfortable and confronting.

She had been ready to endure an uncomfortable night amid the ruin of her room, but her bear self was as comfortable on the carpeted floor as she had been in the forest of Charlotte’s valley. She curled up, surrounded by feathers and torn material, and slept as easily as she had under the stars.

Gwen woke, sore and disoriented. It took her a moment to make sense of the ruin around her, memory returning slowly. Morning had arrived some time ago, and her human body was much less comfortable on the floor than her bear one.

She rose slowly, rubbing at the shoulder that ached from pushing against the wardrobe the evening before. She didn’t regret anything, though. It would have been much more terrible to wake in her bed, thinking for those first bleary moments that she was back in her old life as Princess Gwendolyn.

Looking at the window, she realized again that the first hours of the morning were already past. She needed to find out what had happened to Charlotte.

Choosing simple clothes from a bureau drawer that had survived the night’s rampage, she dressed and tried her bedroom door. To her relief, it opened. More than anything, that freedom confirmed her mother’s retreat into the past—an option Celandine apparently preferred to facing a reality that no longer conformed with her plans.

Gwen’s stomach rumbled as she hurried down the courtyard, and her steps turned instinctively for the kitchen. She didn’t correct them. If she needed information about any dramatic events in the palace, the captive servants were the best place to start.

Pausing on the threshold, Gwen breathed in the delicious smell of roasting food and baked treats. She admired the bustle of activity, wishing she didn’t have to disrupt it. She had always loved the kitchen as a child, going there often with Easton. But she had been restrained to only the most occasional visit in the past ten years—a rule enforced by Alma. Since Alma sought to protect the captives from the queen’s wrath, Gwen couldn’t argue with her strictures. It had been yet another loss, though.

Thinking of the risk if she was seen by a courtier, Gwen stepped all the way inside, out of clear sight from the corridor. The movement attracted attention, and a ripple spread through the servants as they looked in her direction and whispered among themselves.

Gwen cleared her throat. “I missed breakfast.”

A cook offered her a seat at the well-scrubbed wooden table that ran down the center of the room. As she sat, a young man slipped out the kitchen door, taking off at a run.

Sure enough, she had barely started on the food laid before her when Alma appeared, puffing slightly. Her brows rose when she saw the princess, but she took a moment to catch her breath before speaking, giving time for multiple other servants to slip in behind her, mingling with the crowd already in the kitchen.

“So you really are here,” Alma said at last. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

A rush of affection filled Gwen at sight of the older woman. She hadn’t realized how much she needed a friendly face. But she also didn’t want to forget the realization she had come to with Miriam.

She put down the piece of bread in her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble by coming here, I just—”

“No.” Alma said the word firmly. “Miriam told us everything. You came back for us, Your Highness, and we can brave more than this. This is our chance.” Her face darkened. “Some of us have been waiting a very long time for any sort of chance.”

Gwen hoped she didn’t look as terrified as she felt. So many people were relying on her, unaware that Gwen had very little idea what she was doing.

“I came to find out if there was any news of Charlotte,” she said.

Alma frowned and glanced around the kitchen. She was met only with blank stares and shrugs.

“Is that someone from the city?” she asked. “I don’t think there’s a courtier named—”

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