by Aaron Kite
And by saving her life, he’d unknowingly put his own life in danger. In a way, Gwen realized, he may have just killed himself. It was like something from one of those ancient tragedies in her father’s library, the ones where everyone died at the end.
This story wasn’t going to end like that. She wouldn’t let it.
Breathless, Gwen finally crested the last hill and arrived at the trail where it met the meadow. She quickly looked about her, hoping to find Gavin patiently waiting there for her so that he might offer her a ride back to the stables.
She heard a soft whinny a little further up the trail, and her heart caught in her throat.
Exhausted but exultant, she forced herself along the trail as quickly as she could, and in practically no time at all she spied Tambi.
The mare stood there, looking very ill at ease, her reins loosely tied to the branch of a nearby tree. Gavin’s work, probably. Spying a riderless horse might have been how he’d known she was in trouble in the first place. He’d caught her horse, and had left it here for her.
Prince Gavin and his own horse were nowhere in sight.
Gwen already felt faint from all the excitement and running, and a part of her knew her knees wouldn’t be able to handle riding Tambi at a gallop for more than a few minutes. And even so, Tambi was likely still skittish from her own encounter with the dire wolf, and would have to be ridden carefully the entire trip back. There was no way she’d be catching up to Gavin, even if he wasn’t that far away, or riding all that fast.
He was gone.
She’d lost her chance.
Chapter 18
Gwen stared at the familiar scenery beyond her window, delicately wiping away another trickle of moisture that she felt high on her cheek.
The three servants acting as her handmaidens likely didn’t understand why she was crying. Then again, they weren’t her friends, probably didn’t want to be there in the first place, and so didn’t ask. They might have even been warned not to go near her. The four of them had been alone in Gwen’s room for the last couple of hours, and the three maidens had kept to themselves the entire time, chatting quietly with each other, throwing the occasional look in her direction.
Oh, how she wished Rhosyn was here right now. More than anything she just needed someone to hold her, and tell her this wasn’t her fault.
She’d tried everything she could think of. She’d tried so bloody hard.
After getting Tambi back to the stables, she’d scurried back to the castle, cleaned herself up, and set about fetching the leather-bound book she was giving to Prince Gavin. Then she gathered a nice, fancy-looking cloth and some ribbon, and spent over an hour preparing her gift, tying the ribbon in a way that looked elegant and proper.
She’d even personally handed it over to a Rhegaran guard, who seemed to understand what she wanted despite the fact she couldn’t talk, and who assured her that he would deliver the package to Prince Gavin himself and no other. Gwen had almost wept with relief upon hearing those words, and had left the guest wing of the palace with a smile on her face.
The book was returned that evening, unopened.
Additionally, the returned gift aroused the suspicions of her father, who confined Gwen to her bedchamber and posted guards outside of her door. She’d spent the whole night pacing, unable to sleep, trying to think of some new thing she could try. Now unable to even leave her room, it seemed there was very little she was able to do.
At one point in the evening, she found herself wishing she possessed the resolve to throw herself from her tower.
Was she a coward because she couldn’t muster the courage to do that? Was she a terrible person because she couldn’t give up her life for someone else’s?
Her throat felt scratchy and dry, and Gwen turned away from the window to fetch herself a glass of water from the nearby pitcher. Her movements were noticed immediately by the three handmaidens, who went silent at her approach and seemed to regard her with a touch of worry and nervousness. Sighing, and somehow managing to feel even more miserable than she had a few seconds ago, she poured a glass of water and headed back to her spot by the window. As she walked over, she glimpsed her reflection in the mirror next to her closet.
She looked like everything she ever imagined a storybook princess to be, and was barely able to recognize herself, even when she wasn’t wearing the thin, gauzy veil they’d brought her. It was a beautiful dress, one that covered her from head to toe with luxurious white fabric. And yet Gwen found she couldn’t appreciate this dress, much less like it. She hated it, in fact — loathed how beautiful it was and how wonderfully it fit.
When she was younger she’d often wish for some dashing knight to come along and whisk her away from this place, or wistfully imagine herself in a gorgeous wedding dress, about to be married to a handsome prince. Now here she was, about to be married to a handsome prince, just like in a fairy tale. And it was horrible beyond words.
A light rapping at her door attracted the attention of everyone in the bedroom. Shortly after, the door was slowly opened wide enough to reveal a nervous-looking chambermaid. Her eyes fixed on Gwen, and she hastily bobbed her head, looking apologetic.
“Princess Gwenwyn, I’ve been asked to send for your handmaidens,” she said, voice little more than a frightened whisper. “You’re to come down in a few minutes. The king has announced your feast will be starting soon.”
Gwen nodded in reply, feeling ill.
The servant girl appeared the tiniest bit relieved, bowing her head and turning to smile at the three handmaidens, who were already in the process of making their way to the door. Once they were beyond it, Gwen heard the chambermaid comment how beautiful the girls looked in their fancy dresses, a statement that was followed by hushed, excited whisperings as the girls made their way down the stairs.
Turning away from the door, Gwen set her water glass down on the table, noticing as she did that her gloved hand was trembling slightly. She bleakly considered her bedroom window once more.
I am a coward, she thought bitterly. If I had been braver, or even smarter, I would have simply let that wolf kill me. At least that way, I wouldn’t have been able to hurt anyone else.
It seemed like barely any time at all had passed before there was a second, much more authoritative rapping at her door. Gwen turned and saw two hooded guardsmen standing just outside her room. One gestured impatiently for her to come away from the window.
As recently as a day ago, Gwen might have been able to briefly imagine that the guardsmen were actually the disguised sons of some noble come to save her, or a brave peasant boy and his plucky friend who had come to ensure this travesty of a wedding did not reach its conclusion. Now, she’d stopped dreaming of those sorts of possibilities entirely.
Nobody was coming for her. Nobody wanted to save her from this. They were probably exactly as they seemed, two unfriendly guards sent by her father to make sure she didn’t panic and run off somewhere.
Gathering up her bouquet of flowers and her fan, Gwen swept past the guards, her face as expressionless as she could make it. The two guards followed her, staying back just far enough to avoid stepping on the train of her dress.
At the bottom of the stairs, Gwen was surprised to see that even the stone hallways leading to the main hall had been decorated with ribbons and colourful flowers. The drab, oft-times dreary-looking walls had been treated with whitewash, and looked better than at any time she could remember.
She slowly proceeded down the transformed hallway, taking as much time as she could, ever aware of the heavy footsteps of the two solders behind her. Soon the dull roar and chatter of a large gathering of people could be heard coming from somewhere beyond the well-lit greeting area ahead of her.
There were a few dozen people in the greeting hall, mostly castle staff hurriedly carrying things to where they were needed, or talking excitedly to one anothe
r, or making last-minute adjustments to their uniforms, or other things of that nature. For a moment she simply stood there, watching everything.
Gwen hadn’t been told where to go or what would be happening. That had probably been intentional, so she’d be off-balance and easier to manage during the ceremony.
“Princess Gwenwyn,” a familiar, smug-sounding voice called out. “My, you look positively radiant this afternoon. Goodness, doesn’t she look radiant?”
Gwen tiredly turned her head to regard Anifail, her lip already curling slightly. Though he wore a tidy new captain’s uniform, he still somehow managed to resemble a brigand of some sort as he stood there, smirk on his face, arm in arm with—
Oh Goddess!
Rhosyn had lost some weight, based on how the dark blue dress hung from her shoulders, and despite the application of some makeup Gwen was able to make out dark circles underneath her friend’s red-rimmed eyes. She was holding Anifail’s arm like it was some sort of angry snake that might lash out and bite her at any moment.
Tears sprang to Gwen’s eyes, and without even thinking she strode forward towards the two of them, wrapped her arms around Rhosyn and hugged her fiercely. She could feel Rhosyn’s shoulders shake periodically, and she knew her friend was sobbing. Well, so was Gwen, for that matter.
Just seeing that Rhosyn was alive and well was about the best thing to happen to Gwen all week.
Reluctantly they parted, and Gwen held her friend at arm’s length. Through her veil, she could see Rhosyn give her a tearful, sad little smile. Then Rhosyn took a quick breath, and began moving her lips excitedly, at which point she seemed to realize something. A moment after that, Rhosyn’s expression became desperately sad, and she began sobbing anew....
Silently.
“Yes, there appears to be something the matter with my escort tonight,” Anifail remarked sadly, his tone completely at odds with the gleeful expression on his face. “She’s been like this ever since I went to fetch her. Perhaps she has a cold. She did ask me earlier to tell you that she’s desperately hoping everything goes as planned this evening.”
Anifail’s expression made the meaning of his words very clear.
Gwen turned back to her friend in time to see another teardrop spill over her cheek, and the two girls simply regarded one another. Then, Rhosyn raised her eyebrows at Gwen, as if to ask a question. Sighing, Gwen squeezed her friend’s shoulders and looked her in the eye, shaking her head sadly. Rhosyn’s shoulders slumped slightly, and she regarded Gwen with an expression that was both mournful and sympathetic.
Some questions simply didn’t require words.
Anifail coughed. “Sorry, getting a bit awkward here, all this silence. I noticed you were looking a wee bit unsure of yourself as well. Might it have to do with some trepidation on your part, Princess? Perhaps a spot of worry? After all, I don’t imagine you’ve had that mother-daughter chat regarding the sorts of things that happen on your wedding night.” He smiled cruelly, reaching out to take Rhosyn’s arm and pulling her towards him. “Well, have no fear; I’ll tell you exactly what’ll happen. We’ll all feast, and then there’s the ceremony joining you and Prince Gavin in marriage. Seems a bit backward, but apparently that’s how they do things in Rhegar,” Anifail said, shrugging. “Once that’s done, you’ll be whisked off to a room made up especially for the two of you. Oh, and don’t you fret too much about what you’re supposed to do once you’re there. Once the vicar proclaims you husband and wife, I’m quite certain you’ll know exactly what to do.”
Gwen noticed Anifail squeeze Rhosyn’s arm as he said the word exactly. Yes, he was making absolutely sure Gwen was reminded what was at stake.
“Well, I suppose we’d better go find ourselves a seat, my dear. Something near the front, perhaps.” A smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t want you missing out on your best friend’s special moment now.”
And with that, Anifail turned and strode through the large vaulted doorway leading to the throne room, followed closely by a miserable-looking Rhosyn.
Watching him go, Gwen continued to stand there in the greeting hall, feeling lost and as alone as ever, despite the dozens of bustling people flitting in and out of the room. Her head began to swim a little bit, which was when she realized she needed to focus on her breathing, and not the tight ball of misery that had lodged itself in her chest. She took a deep breath, and then another, trying to calm herself enough to keep the tears at bay. Tears weren’t going to help anyone today, least of all her.
Unless....
What if she were weeping as she went to the altar? It wasn’t at all seemly, and would enrage her father, but it would send a message to Gavin and perhaps spur him into action. He’d rescued her in the woods, after all. Perhaps if he saw that she needed rescuing now....
Gwen had barely put together the first fragments of a potential plan when a wide-eyed maiden hurried through the nearby archway and into the greeting hall. Upon spying Gwen, she immediately came over to her.
“Princess Gwenwyn,” she said, curtseying low before her. “They tell me it’s time for you to enter.”
Indeed, she could now hear the soft strains of violins playing a familiar, joyful tune.
Gwen nodded to the maiden, who curtseyed again before scurrying off into a hallway on the opposite end of the room, presumably on her way to notify the kitchen staff that everything was about to start. The few people that were left in the room noticed the music as well, and hurried off one by one until she was the only one left in the hall.
Steeling herself, Gwen clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly against her waist with both hands and began walking towards the sound of violins.
Chapter 19
Gwen entered the throne room, which prompted an unexpected trumpet fanfare to play from somewhere she couldn’t see. Uncomfortably aware that all eyes were upon her, she walked forward slowly and deliberately with her handmaidens, barely looking around at anyone. Instead, she focused on the decorations. Under the circumstances, it wasn’t all that difficult to do.
The throne room was utterly transformed, even more so than the garden or hallways had been. Vibrant silk streamers of all colours criss-crossed along the ceiling above her, producing a pattern that undulated and shifted as you moved across the floor, appearing completely different depending on where you stood. Ornate tables and chairs had been set up everywhere you looked, and every table had at least a dozen people sitting at it. Deep red satin bunting lined the walls, framing brand new torches and lamps in expensive-looking silver wall mounts, the sheer quantity of which were illuminating the room more brightly than she’d thought possible.
Gone were the severe, dark wooden panels and archaic tapestries, as well as all the other decorations she knew her father preferred.
There was a large banquet table set up where the throne usually sat, right in front of the newly whitewashed stone wall. Her father and King Alwyn were both sitting at the table, as were several other people she didn’t recognize. Given the empty seat beside her father, it wasn’t hard for Gwen to figure out where she was supposed to go.
Many of the several hundred assembled guests murmured to one another as she made her way to the other side of the room. She couldn’t actually make out any snippets of whispered conversation, so she had no idea if they were discussing her beautiful dress, how lovely she looked in it, or how unfair it was that someone as undeserving as Gwen was about to marry the well-liked and charming Prince Gavin, who even now was—
Gwen blinked, and for a moment her steps faltered slightly.
Prince Gavin wasn’t in the room.
In the stories she’d read that had weddings, the bride was usually the last to enter. That was pretty standard, wasn’t it? And yet, the chair sitting next to King Alwyn was conspicuously empty.
Perhaps she wasn’t getting married today. Might Gavin have followed his heart after a
ll, and fled the castle before they were to be wed? Or perhaps he’d left because of the various things he’d heard about Gwen? He was no stranger to most of the castle guards and other servants, after all, and had spent countless hours talking and laughing and visiting with them during his attempts to avoid her this past week. Maybe he’d been told something about her he didn’t care for.
Oh, wouldn’t that be perfect — her father’s plans foiled by the very rumours Anifail had been spreading about her. The very thought of it actually caused the barest trace of a smile to find its way to Gwen’s lips.
She continued on towards the main banquet table, the train of her dress sweeping the floor behind her as she made her way to her seat. Idly, she began to wonder how she’d even be expected to sit while wearing this awkward, detestable gown of hers. However, once she arrived at her spot she saw that a small bench had been arranged for her rather than one of the high-backed chairs on which her father and King Alwyn sat.
Gwen sat down in her seat, facing the assembled crowd, and she quickly checked it for familiar faces. Almost immediately she noticed Anifail and Rhosyn had been seated at the closest table, not twenty feet away from her.
Anifail smiled and nodded when he saw he’d caught her attention, and he raised a silver goblet towards her with a nod. Rhosyn did nothing, and merely sat beside him, staring through the table.
Choosing to ignore his presence, Gwen turned her attention away from Anifail’s table and scanned the rest of the room. She noticed an altar that had been set up on a dais in the corner opposite of where she was sitting. It was being tended to by an ancient-looking vicar in red and silver robes, whose few remaining wisps of silver hair had been lightly oiled and plastered against his balding pate for the occasion. On the altar were two crystals, one of which she recognized as hers. The other, much larger crystal was Gavin’s, obviously.