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Chapter One

Gwendolyn

Three Years Before Present Day

M y shoes clicked on the white marble floors of the castle’s long corridor as a servant led me into the library.

I wished my dress hadn’t become damp from the light rain just moments earlier when I walked from the carriage to the castle door.

It would not make a favorable appearance, and I was about to introduce myself.

I did not regret, however, that I’d chosen to protect my book instead of my gown.

The book was priceless; my dress was not.

Throughout the Kingdom of Walden, the tropical weather, especially during the spring months, couldn't be predicted. Minute by minute, it changed. It was something I couldn’t avoid, and yet, I still felt ashamed for standing there, wet, through no real fault of my own.

Mother would not have been happy if she had known about my current state.

Who knew how my hair looked.

“Here is the library,” the servant said, pulling me from my thoughts.

Before I could thank him, he was halfway back down the hall and then disappeared from my view.

Odd , I thought. Usually, I was formally presented when entering a room.

I would have to make my entrance by myself, and, somehow, that felt daunting.

It is fine. Everything is fine. I can do this, I told myself.

I faced the door,pushing my shoulders back to keep my posture straight. Holding my chin high with my book under my left arm, I took a deep breath.

I can do this .

As I raised my right hand to knock on the door looming before me, I faltered. My fisted hand shook as it stopped a mere two inches from its destination.

“Blast,” I mumbled.

Do not let me down, Gwendolyn! I could hear my mother’s voice as if she were standing right beside me.

I cleared my throat and thought of the knight’s story I’d brought with me.

It was a tale I had read many times, a cherished favorite.

I knew that my first reading for the Queen would be easier if it was something I was very familiar with.

The knights were always so fearless in those stories.

If only that could be me .

Perhaps, they were always so brave because of their protective armor, steel swords, and broad shields they wielded.

I had nothing, whatsoever, to protect me.

It was not because entering the room would lead to combat, but because there was a raging, emotional battle inside of me.

I dropped my fist, looking at the thick book under my arm.

I traced the brown leather with my finger, touching the soft cover and then the spine, trying to pull some courage from the words that were within.

With knights in the forefront of my mind, I decided that my book would do nicely as a shield.

There was no shame in using it in that way, unless, of course, I damaged it. That would have been unpardonable.

You can do this, Gwendolyn. You are a Darling, and it is okay for you to be here.

That should have been convincing enough, and yet, it wasn’t.

It was a hard thought to believe because the door I stood before was one of the finest doors I had ever seen.

That was saying something because my family was one of the most prestigious families in all of Walden.

I was a noblewoman, Lady Gwendolyn Darling, and I had been summoned, invited , by the Queen herself.

Yes. I was asked to be here. It is an easy task.

I’ll just be reading. I love reading. Biting my lip, I raised my fist again, touching the door lightly, using my book held up against my stomach as my comfort-shield.

Unfortunately, the knock was a mere tap.

I hated the way it sounded, and I hated my weakness.

My timidity, also, regularly irritated my mother, as did everything else I did, but I never wanted to be a bother.

I desired to stay in my place and not make a fuss.

Any fuss, and my mother would shout—I did not like shouting, I always got a slight headache when she shouted.

I stepped closer to the door and knocked again with more force.

“That was a good knock. Do you think they will answer?” a deep voice spoke from behind me.

“Ah!” I shouted, holding my book up to cover my face as I spun around and pushed my back up against the door.

“Oh, sorry to startle you. I understand that royals can be very intimidating, but I assure you, the Prince is as easy going as any royal can be—even more so, really.”

“I–I–the Prince?” I stammered, wanting to see who it was there before me, and yet too terrified to have it confirmed that I should not have been covering my face like a child in front of the person who spoke.

Too late for that , I thought

“Here, put the book down. I can help,” the voice said, calmly.

I slowly lowered my book. My cheeks were so warm that I must have looked like I had a fever.

I know who this man is. Why is he here? I had seen him countless times, as every noble had.

With his wavy brown hair, light brown eyes, carefree smile, and confident stance, it was none other than Prince Peter of Walden.

Remembering myself and my manners, I dipped into a curtsy.

The book I had used to block my face was quickly tucked back under my arm and at my side, once more.

“Oh, no need for that,” Prince Peter said as I looked up at him.

I straightened my posture.

“You are welcome here. Come on in,” he said as he walked to the door and then opened it, motioning for me to go ahead of him, and I did so, silently. Maybe he was there to see his mother and would be leaving shortly.

Once we entered the large room, I noticed a lady near a window who nodded toward Prince Peter. She was not the Queen. She was simply doing needlework.

What is going on?

“You must be Lady Gwendolyn Darling,” the prince stated, and I looked from the older woman, down to my skirts for some strength.

I finally raised my eyes to meet the prince's squinting gaze.

This is fine. You can do this. He is the prince, yes, but you can do this.

His lips were pursed together as if he was holding in a smile.

He must think I am daft.

Wonderful , I thought. That was just what I needed.

I stood up tall, shoulders back and neck arched, just the way my mother had taught me. I placed a pleasant expression upon my face .

“Yes, I am. And I apologize to Your Highness. I am nervous.”

“I do not bite, I assure you,” Prince Peter said with a smile, walking over to a settee and reclining upon it, his arms tucked under his head. “You are, from what I hear, a marvelous storyteller?”

Why is he lying down? I wondered.

“I read to the children at the orphanage and the school, sometimes. I enjoy reading.”

“I do not like to read because it is hard for me to focus on the words. Yet, somehow, when things are read to me, I can visualize them in my mind, and I become entranced—it’s as if I am the protagonist, going on the adventures myself.”

“So I shall be reading to you then?” I asked.

Prince Peter sat up and motioned for me to sit in a chair a few feet away from the blue plush settee where he lay. “Yes, I am in great need of a storyteller. Please, Lady Darling, make yourself comfortable.”

So–I will be reading to the prince.

I turned from him to look behind me toward the older woman, focused on her work.

She must be a chaperone.

Why had my mother not told me that I would be reading to the prince?

The prince!

No matter, you can do this, I tried to convince myself again .

I walked over to the plush silver chair and took a seat, making sure my light blue, silk dress with white embroidered flowers would not overly crease, especially as it was damp. When I looked up from situating my skirts, Prince Peter was staring at me with an enormous grin.

“I think I shall like you, Lady Darling,” he said.

“You think so?” I asked, opening the book in my lap.

“I believe so. What story shall you read to me?”

“I have the story of the ‘Ancient Knights’ from The Ancient Tales ,” I said softly, looking at him. He nodded and lay back down on the settee.

“That sounds wonderful.”

I waited a few moments before I began. Then I read:

“Before the world was created, the Creator split the light from the dark—creating the moon and the sun—one to rule the day, and one to rule the night .”

I made sure my voice was strong and clear.

When reading, I liked to create different voices for the characters when I could.

I also had a habit of truly getting into the stories, and when I did so, it caused the children to become very excited and engaged.

But it was different reading for a prince.

He closed his eyes as I spoke. In truth, him not looking at me was helpful—and I began to feel more calm, letting the story take me from where we were into another place entirely.

After I finished the third chapter, I closed the book. That had to be enough for the day. I had been reading for over an hour, and my voice would be hoarse if I did not conclude our session—especially since I had been asked to come and read every day.

“Ah, and already, it is over,” Prince Peter said, sitting up with a frown.

“Yes, I shall return tomorrow,” I mumbled.

He smiled. “You did a wonderful job. The best storyteller I have ever had. And, if you would believe it, I have had many.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“No, thank you, Lady Darling.”

With that, he gave a polite bow, and I stood to curtsy, watching as the handsome brown-haired prince walked back through the door we had entered earlier, leaving the room. After he had gone, I collapsed back into the chair.

I did it, I thought, breathing out with a huff. I then closed my eyes.

That was not so bad. You can do this. He is kind, I told myself.

“You are a wonderful storyteller, my lady.”