Page 66 of To Steal the Sun

But Gwen knew her too well to believe she would give up so easily. Celandine’s guards and position had not been her only source of power. She had one last move to make.

“She’ll go to her objects,” she said to Easton. “We have to stop her.”

He nodded, the same anxiety she felt showing in his eyes. It wasn’t over yet.

Gathering up her skirts in both hands, Gwen leaped down from the dais and ran after Celandine.

INTERLUDE

CELANDINE

Celandine ran, hatred and anger and fear twisting in her gut and burning in her throat. She had to get to her objects. She had to let them drain away the awful emotions. Once her mind was clear and sharp, she would see her way out of the mess the ungrateful princess had created.

There would be a way out. There had to be. Celandine had worked too hard and for too long to see everything stripped from her. She would destroy everyone rather than become weak and vulnerable again.

A man jumped out to block Celandine’s path, and she recognized him. How dare her own courtiers turn against her! She had given this man everything, and yet his wife had smiled to Celandine’s face while behind her back she whined endlessly about babies. Being pregnant, having a baby—they were things that made you vulnerable. Didn’t the woman realize Celandine had done her a favor?

No matter what she did for them all it was never enough. They were always poised, ready to betray her, ready to seize power for themselves. Just like that brat.

The man lunged for Celandine, but her fury lent her strength. She sidestepped him, spinning as he passed, and smashed her fist into the back of his skull with all the force she could muster.

He went down, hitting the floor hard, and she resumed her flight. As she ran, she shook her hand, which pulsed with pain. She should have drawn her dagger instead of lashing out with her fist. This was exactly why emotions were dangerous. It was too hard to think clearly while in their grip.

She reached the door to her exclusive wing of the palace and slowed. There was no sign of the guard always stationed there. Fresh fear gripped her. Her standing command was that no matter what happened in the rest of the palace, that post was never to be deserted. Seeing it empty was a fresh blow.

She quickened her pace again, not quite to a run, but she couldn’t keep herself to an appropriate cautious speed. What if the rebels were already ransacking her objects?

Celandine reached for the closed door of her bedchamber only to be grabbed from behind.

“You’re under arrest for treason to the crown,” a rough voice said, this one unfamiliar.

She drew her dagger in one fluid movement and stabbed backward. It plunged into some part of her captor. She didn’t care which part since all that mattered was that he let her go, staggering backward. She released the hilt and reached for the door instead.

Someone else was behind her—shouting angrily and rushing to help the injured man—but she didn’t care. All she could think of was her objects.

She shut the door behind her, her eyes flying to the tapestry. It had been pulled back, revealing the portrait. She snarled at the sight of it, taunting her. She should have slashed it to pieces days ago. From the moment Henry broke his enchantment, the image had changed. It now showed his human state, smiling out at the world with his arm around the golden-haired girl. But worse than the two of them were the new arrivals in the portrait.

The portrait of the mountain princess had disappeared along with the castle that was a mirror of the mountain palace. But instead of ceasing to exist, the image had appeared beside the happy couple. And now, the mountain princess was no longer alone. One of her arms twined around the waist of the traitor, Easton. The boy she should have killed ten years ago.

While she stared at the image—fresh, dangerous fury rippling through her—someone spoke.

“We thought you might come here.” Prince Henry stepped out of the shadows to stand in front of his portrait.

His wife stepped forward to join him, the two of them mocking her with their double appearance.

“It’s over, Celandine,” she said. “Gwen is queen as she should have been long ago. But she’s nothing like you, so if you surrender now, she’ll show you mercy.”

Celandine growled, eyeing the hidden latch. If she lunged for it, could she get it open before they stopped her? Could she get to her objects?

“Is this portrait the only information you had about us?” the girl asked, apparently unable to help herself.

Celandine refocused on her. Why was she wasting both of their time on such irrelevant questions?

“I didn’t need any other information,” she said coldly, trying to regain her usual manner. “I saw when the prince found himself a foolish girl to become his wife, trying so hard to free himself from my enchantments.” She laughed, but the sound was weak and thin.

The girl’s brow furrowed. “Then how did you know? How did you know I would betray him and look at his face before the three months?”

Celandine laughed, the sound fuller. “You really have to ask that? The more infatuated you clearly became, the more obvious it was.”

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