Gwyn: Light Chaser Legends (Book 2)

by J B Cantwell

  Only at meals did her mother tried to communicate with her. Riona would smile, even laugh sometimes, but her stolen glances at her daughter were unseen by Torin. Gwyn knew that it was still their plan to escape the castle and escape Torin. She knew this because of the way her mother looked at her when no one else was watching, because of the sadness behind her eyes. They all knew Bevyn was hurting somewhere in the castle; they just didn’t know where. Every once in a while, when Torin would travel, Gwyn would go searching for Bevyn. She’d stopped down in the kitchens from time to time, but nobody there was willing to divulge the secret.

  “He’ll kill us, girl,” the chef said one day.

  “So you know,” Gwyn said. “Are you feeding him?”

  “Worth more than my life for me to tell you your father’s secrets. Now go.”

  “Just one more question,” she said. “Why do you stay?”

  The look on the chef’s face was one of alarm. He lifted his arm and pointed to the door, and she had little choice but to obey.

  The dungeons were empty, and wherever Bevyn was, he was keeping quiet. Occasionally, she wondered if maybe he’d managed to escape on his own, if maybe her father had simply kept this information from them out of shame. Because, of course, to admit that his son was gone would’ve been to admit that he, Torin, had been outsmarted.

  No one was smarter than Torin. Not in his own house.

  Indeed, of late, Torin seemed to be growing uneasy. If Gwyn had to guess, she would have thought that he was lonely, that there weren’t enough people for him to command. For him to hurt.

  From time to time, he would look upon her mother with what she could only guess was love in his eyes. Gwyn understood that her mother knew she had to continue in this way in order to keep her children safe. Sometimes, when Gwyn began to doubt the arrangement, their plan for escape, her mother would brush by her on her way from the dining hall, take her hand, and allow a little spark to pass between them. This was why Gwyn still believed in the plan, still believed in Riona. Because the loneliness was crushing.

  During the month before Gwyn’s fourteenth birthday, her father became more agitated than usual. He would pace the halls, often talking to himself. During these times, Gwyn was relegated to her rooms and spent twenty-four hours there on her own for days and days. Meals were delivered, and no contact with her family was allowed. She began to worry, concerned that maybe something had gone wrong with her mother. But finally, after what felt like an excruciatingly long wait, they were allowed to meet in the dining room once more.

  Everyone sat together at the table, everyone but Bevyn. His chair remained empty, right next to where her mother sat at Torin’s side. The look on Riona’s face told Gwyn that she had cause for worry.

  Her father didn’t sit, and instead, he paced the room, circling the table in one direction and then turning to go around the other way.

  “There are to be many visitors this year,” he said. “The first of these will arrive in three days.”

  “Father,” Phalen said. “How many will be coming?”

  “One king and one sorcerer each time. There will be many.”

  He smiled at his own words as if he’d just made a joke.

  Gwyn glanced at her mother, but Riona was looking at Torin.

  Always keep your eye on the snake, Gwyn thought.

  “And to what will we owe the pleasure of their company?” Phalen asked. He allowed a little smirk to come over his face.

  His father smirked back, and he stopped walking when he reached the head of the table. He placed his hands on the back of his empty chair, then raised them high above his head as if he were presenting something grand.

  “We are expanding,” he said, and now his smile stretched across his face.

  Gwyn thought it might be the happiest she’d ever seen her father, and in her heart, she worried for the lives of the kings.

  But she knew she shouldn’t think that way. These rulers, all they wanted was power. They were fools to think that they would be safe along the banks of the Opal Sea with a host like Torin. And yet, she was curious. She’d never known a king, and she wondered what they were like. Gwyn had never been educated, not in the same way as her brothers, with books and spells and potions and poisons. There were only a few books in her room, and she had read them all several times over. Only one made mention of a king, and that king had met a sticky end.

  The dark part of her stirred as she watched her father bounce with anticipation, and she found she was looking forward to what would certainly be a pageant of self-serving men. She wasn’t frightened, she realized, and this surprised her.

  She was powerful now, able to protect herself, she was sure.

  She’d spent many afternoons in her pink room before this most recent lockdown, and while hidden there, she’d practiced her magic. With no one to train her, she’d simply taken to destroying things in the room. Sometimes she was able to put them back together, too. Sometimes not. She had long since hidden the painting deep inside a closet where she hoped it would never be found. Only sometimes, when feeling low, would she open it. The paint had begun to crack with age, and she needed to be careful with it so as not to ruin it. She knew now that it wasn’t her in the picture, that it couldn’t be her, as it had been painted so long ago.

  Still, she wondered where that little girl was now.

  But now, different questions were on the table. Varik took them up.

  “Father,” he said. “From which kingdoms do they come?”

  “From Hawthorne, Teba, Zemira, and Eagleview,” Torin said. “Those will be the first of the visitors.” His smile widened.

  “And what will they bring for you?” Varik asked.

  “Oh, treasures, I am sure. But it is not their treasures I seek.”

  Phalen squirmed in his chair, and for a young man so tall and strong, Gwyn thought he looked like an idiot.

  “What is it that you seek, Father?” Phalen had hunger in his eyes, and he even snapped his teeth together a couple of times absently.

  Disgusting.

  “Their allegiances, of course,” he said. “And all that may come with that.”

  “And what will you offer them in return?” Riona asked.

  Torin’s smile faded, and for a moment, everyone at the table froze. Surely he would not tolerate such an insolent question.

  But then he smiled again, took her hand, and kissed it gently.

  “I will protect them, of course, my love. In exchange for their… well, their magic.”

  “Are there any kings who have magic of their own?” Varik asked. “Aside from yourself, of course.”

  At this, Torin laughed. “I am no king. Even I know that. I am, instead, a killer of kings.”

  Riona’s face fell, her mind seeming to turn inward.

  Gwyn thought of the pink room, of the painting of the girl, and suddenly the excitement she’d felt just a moment before evaporated.

  It would be a massacre, she was certain. These kings would either pay with their lives, with the lives of their servants, or with the decimation of their magic.

  Probably all three.

  A cold, hard knot began in her stomach, and she gripped onto the armrests of her chair, trying not to show her true colors.

  But this did not go unnoticed.

  “Tell me, Gwyn,” Torin said, walking back around the table and in her direction. “What would you have me take from them?”

  Immediately she dropped her hands to her lap, eager to hide everything about herself, about the inner workings of her mind.

  She dared not look at him.

  “I do not know, Father,” she said. “We have everything we need right here. What can these kings offer us?”

  “Ah, the girl has a good question,” he said.

  Then, he leaned over until his lips were brushing her ear. She tried not to cringe.

  “Hasn’t there ever been something you’ve wanted in this world more than anything?” he whispered.

&nb
sp; Of course, there was, but she could hardly tell her father that her greatest desire was to murder him. And she could hardly tell him about their plans to escape, about the dreams she had of their future lives without him.

  “I do not know, Father,” she said again. She decided to add more information to this, something to be more convincing. “I suppose I’ve always liked the idea of gemstones. I’ve read about them in my books.”

  Torin laughed and stood up straight again.

  “The girl wants gemstones!”

  Phalen and Varik laughed heartily, but it was the look on her mother’s face that surprised her. Riona looked as if something she’d wanted for a long time had finally presented itself to her. Gwyn frowned at her mother, but there was no answer to the question she had in her mind.

  “Women!” Torin said. “Just when you think you have them figured out, they say something like this. You are a foolish girl. If gemstones are truly what you wish for, then I suppose we have no problem at all. You are depressingly without magic, and as such, I suppose I can say you are an easy child to manage. My daughter, I can all but assure you that our guests will be bringing them by the bucket load.”

  He walked around the table again until he reached his seat. The servants had been waiting to serve dinner, unwilling to offend him by causing an interruption. But now, they scurried toward him, filling his goblet with wine and presenting him with a plate of chicken and fruit.

  Gwyn looked at his plate, and she suddenly wondered where all the food had come from. She’d never heard a chicken in the castle, never seen a fruit tree from her window. All she could see was the ocean, bleak and unforgiving. She thought about the stained glass window in her secret room. Someone must’ve loved the ocean a great deal to make such a piece of art.

  Why?

  A servant putting a plate before her shook her from her thoughts. She looked toward her father, but he was already eating, so she took up her fork and knife and joined him. The food was delicious. Wherever he was, she hoped Bevyn was enjoying the same.

  Over the course of the next several days, the castle was prepared for the arrival of the first king, and within, it was a flurry of activity. Several rooms were being prepared for the incoming guests to inhabit. For about a day, Gwyn feared they might find her secret room, but then they chose a different hallway in which to house kings and his servants. Gwyn was fitted with three new dresses, and she was delighted one afternoon to answer a knock on her door. She’d thought it was one of the maids coming to adjust the silk sash in the third dress, but when she opened the door, she found her mother there instead.

  Riona pushed past her daughter and closed and locked the door behind her.

  “We don’t have much time,” she said quietly. “Your father is readying Phalen and Varik, and the first king comes tonight.”

  Gwyn was overcome, and she immediately started crying in the presence of her mother. Riona put her hands on her daughter’s cheeks and looked deeply into her eyes. “You must keep hold of yourself, little bee. They will be arriving soon, so we don’t have much time. You said something the other day at the table; you said you wanted gemstones.” She removed her hands from Gwyn’s face and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Your father is right; the kings will bring treasures not unlike what you asked for. But this will present to you an opportunity. Torin has no need for pretty stones, and as such, he pays little attention to the cache of magical gems we took with us from the Veiled Kingdom. He never learned how to use them, and I was too sick to teach.”

  Gwyn pulled away and looked up at her mother. “Magical gems? What can they do?” Suddenly, the errant comment about her girlish desire to have shiny things held great meaning.

  “I was just a young child, younger than you, when the stones came to me,” she said. “They have about them a sort of… vibration, an energy that flows through them. Torin has often thought them garbage, and as such, he treats them like garbage. But your father desires all types of power. He doesn’t realize the value of the stones, as their vibration is too subtle for him to pick up on. For this reason, he has cast them aside. You must obtain them from him.”

  “Me?” Gwyn asked. “But why? How?”

  “Your comment the other day means that you will have the kings’ riches bestowed upon you, and once you have those rocks, you can switch them out for the ones with magic. It is within them that the value lies.”

  Gwyn’s eyes grew round and surprised. She tried to imagine how she might accomplish such a feat as stealing something right from under her father’s nose.

  “When will he go away next?” she asked, already calculating.

  Her mother smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “So, you understand,” she said. “That is good. He will wait to leave until he’s had his way with each of the kings. I do not know what he will do to them or even if he will allow them to live. They are fools for coming here, drawn by his promises of great power over their people. Along with the kings will come their head sorcerers. It will be these men whom he will try to ally himself with.”

  “And if they say no?” Gwyn asked. But she already knew the answer.

  “They won’t say no,” Riona said. “Not if they want to live.”

  Her mother took her hand and drew her across the room toward the fire. For a moment, Gwyn thought that maybe she could tell her mother about her secret room, about the stained glass window.

  But this wasn’t the time.

  “One thing I do know,” Riona said, “is that he puts magical protections around his vault each night. These protections are tenfold when he goes away and leaves us all here. For this reason, you must gain entry while he is still in the castle.”

  Gwyn’s heart was beating madly, and while she was trying her best to imagine herself doing these things, inside, she was terrified.

  They sat on a small loveseat beside the fire, and Riona withdrew a small bottle from the folds of her fine dress. She held it up beside Gwyn’s cheek and nodded approvingly. “You’ll need to cover up,” she said.

  She pulled out a small mirror and handed it to her daughter, then proceeded to open the bottle and begin covering Gwyn’s scarred face with the makeup. Gwyn looked in the mirror as she did this, shocked and surprised by her new reflection. It seemed that everywhere her mother’s fingers touched her skin, she was miraculously healed.

  “It’s not real,” Riona said. “But it will hide your injuries for a time. You may or may not know this, but you are quite beautiful. Your father expects the kings to be smitten with you, though you are too young to marry.”

  “Marry?” Gwyn asked. “I don’t want to—”

  “And you won’t have to,” Riona said. “Not yet. But listen to me now. These men will bestow upon you their riches in an attempt to woo you. We cannot yet know Torin’s response to such behavior, but it matters very little; their gemstones will line your pockets, for your father has no patience for trinkets. And, most importantly, they will resemble the powerful stones your father hides. It is my hope that when he is otherwise engaged, you may seek out the true stones and switch them for the false ones.”

  Gwyn couldn’t stop looking at herself in the tiny mirror. Surely whatever it was in that bottle was magical. She wondered if it had come from her mother or from her father. Who had wanted so desperately to cover her up?

  It seemed like years since she’d seen her reflection. Of course, her room held a large mirror, but in a fit of rage, she’d broken it years back. To hide it, she’d draped an old tapestry over the glass, but now her mother walked up to it and removed the cover.

  “You must make peace with the way you look,” Riona said.

  Gwyn’s stomach suddenly felt sick.

  “I don’t want to see,” she said.

  “Oh, but you must,” her mother said. “I don’t think you’ll believe your eyes. I can barely believe mine.”

  Her mother walked up to where she was seated on the bed and held out her hands. Gwyn looked down at her mother’s hands doubt
fully, but then the years without physical contact, without so much as a hug, caught up with her. She placed her hands in her mother’s, and a moment later, Riona led her from the bed to stand before the mirror.

  At first, Gwyn refused to look at her face, certain that the reflection in the tiny glass had somehow been false. Instead, she looked at her feet. The glass had been shattered, and within it, she saw several different pairs of feet, all of them in high-heeled boots, all of them hers.

  Her mother drew her hair back from her shoulders until it was cascading down her back.

  “You should look, little bee,” she said.

  Gwyn turned away from the mirror. “Why are you doing this?”

  Her mother’s face fell. “Because it’s time you saw the truth. Now look.” She gently put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and turned her back to the mirror.

  Gwyn would’ve argued that she already knew the truth, but she was so comforted by her mother’s presence that she did as she was told, trusting her.

  Slowly, Gwyn’s eyes took in her reflection, the beautiful blue dress she was wearing, the way her shoulders looked soft and satiny in the fading light. And finally, she looked into her own eyes.

  Her breath caught in her chest.

  Could it be true? Had she been turned into a woman? Amazed, she took a few steps forward, turning her head to reassure herself that her scars were well hidden. She frowned, not quite understanding what she was seeing. When she turned back to her mother, Riona handed her the bottle of makeup.

  “It’s magic,” her mother said. “But you probably already knew that. I don’t think any normal bottle could conceal what he’s done to you. But you don’t need to live this way. No one ever needs to know what has transpired within these walls. These kings will likely try to take your hand in marriage. When that happens, you will escape forever.”

  Forever?

  She turned back to the mirror, back to the reflection of someone grown. Someone beautiful. And for the first time, she recognized that maybe she would have other gifts, other talents with which to make her way.