Page 65 of To Steal the Sun

Finally, she held up the dripping shirt that apparently belonged to Easton. It was white and clean. Easton also held up hers, and the crowd cheered. They let the clothes drop back into the water and stood, turning to face each other and clasp hands.

They were close, so close.

“You have woven your futures together,” the count said, his loud voice echoing through the room like a proclamation. “You have made your vows, and you have washed each other clean, I therefore—”

Both doors crashed open. “Stop!” The queen’s scream rent the room.

Chairs scraped and heads twisted as everyone turned astonished faces to the furious woman in the doorway. Guards streamed past her, racing for Gwen and Easton. Easton’s fingers tightened on Gwen’s, and he tugged her toward him.

“Stop this treason instantly!” the queen shouted again.

Count Oswin met her eyes across the distance of the room and shouted even more loudly into the shocked silence of the crowd.

“I therefore declare Princess Gwendolyn, daughter of King Isander, married to Easton, of the mountain kingdom. What is done cannot be undone.”

As he spoke the traditional words—the ones that made the marriage final—several things happened at once.

Celandine screamed her anger, the shrill cry cutting through the crowd and making Gwen shiver. The guards along the walls sprang into motion, pouring forward to block the path of the queen’s guards. The sun slipped all the way below the horizon, and Gwen looked into Easton’s eyes—the eyes of her husband.

The familiar tingling itch began, but she barely felt it, her heart welling with love for the man who had stood by her through everything. The man who had just promised to stand by her forever.

And the tingling faded, dropping away into nothing. No tearing started, and no transformation followed. Night had fallen, but Gwen was still a woman.

The arrival of the queen and disruption of the wedding had shocked the crowd into silence. But nightfall sent the courtiers surging to their feet, shouting and calling. Gwen turned her head and saw people falling on each other, tears streaming down faces as they embraced or collapsed from shock and relief.

The count called again in the same booming shout.

“The enchantment is broken! All hail Queen Gwendolyn and King Easton! All hail!”

“No! No!” Celandine screamed, still in the doorway, but louder still came the roar of the crowd.

“Hail! Hail! Hail!”

Gwen turned fully to look out at them, her earlier certainty and strength returning in response to their cries.

“Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!”

The shout seemed to swell and grow impossibly loud until Gwen realized the voices inside the hall had been joined by a roar from outside. A mob of people burst in behind Celandine, Natalie at their lead. They streamed around the queen, who stood alone, like an island in the rippling sea of people. The crowd from the city filled every spare space in the room, their enthusiastic cries of support filling the air with a thundering noise.

The grappling of the guards had been swept away by their arrival, and Gwen was relieved to see none of Celandine’s guards attempted violence against the new arrivals. They had already been confused by their unexpected opponents—dressed in identical uniforms which made it hard to tell friend from foe—and the roar and unity of the growing crowd appeared to have provided the final piece of intimidation.

Gwen held up her hands, and the shout slowly faded, expectant silence slowly gripping the crowd. Celandine still stood straight, however, her eyes spearing into Gwen’s.

“This is treason!” she cried, her words whipping over the distance between them.

“No,” Gwen said back, her voice projecting across the room. “Yours is the treason. You stole the throne, enchanted my people, and abused me. It ends now.”

“How dare you speak those words to your mother!” the queen cried, and a soft murmur reminded Gwen that Celandine still had supporters in the crowd.

But other voices murmured back, hostile and defensive. Celandine might have her supporters in the room, but Gwen had more.

Her eyes hardened, her hands clenching. “You are not my mother. Neither are you my stepmother. If you had been, you would have given me my throne when I came of age, as the law requires.” Another murmur, and this time there was only sympathy and approval for Gwen. “I was with my father every moment until his dying breath. He never married you. He never even met you. You are nothing but a usurper, and your time is finished.”

A shocked cry rose at her words, heads turning between Gwen and Celandine. Brows lowered and voices raised as the mood in the room turned ugly.

Celandine fell back one step and then another, horror twisting her face as she surveyed the angry crowd. Gwen stood steady, not removing her gaze, and Celandine was the first to look away. Turning, she fled.

Gwen looked at Easton, wishing Celandine’s desertion was the end. If only the woman would run and not stop running. If she disappeared into the mountains, it would all finally be over.

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