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Chapter Two

Gwendolyn

Two Years and Eleven Months Before Present Day

“ H is hand held strong, his sword dripping with the blood of his enemy—” I read.

“I wonder how he can carry and wield his sword for so long. How long have they been in this battle?” Prince Peter interrupted my reading.

I smiled. “Well, he is an Ancient, so he is stronger than a regular man.”

“That is true. If I were in a battle that long, I would need to use my other hand, I think,” the prince said. His eyes were open, but he was looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you practice with swords?” I asked.

“Yes, I am a prince. It is my duty to defend my kingdom.”

“Of course,” I returned.

He sat up. “You do not believe me?”

I believed him, but for some reason, I pictured him, instead of as the Ancient from the story battling with the sword, and switching hands, I imagined Prince Peter holding two swords, one in each of his hands, using them at the same time.

It was hard to hold back my smile at that ridiculous image in my mind.

My behavior would have mortified my mother. I tried to control myself.

“Sorry, Your Highness. I do not mean—” I let out a laugh and clapped a hand over my mouth to smother it.

“My, Lady Darling, you have a pleasant laugh. Do not hide it,” he said, and I looked right at him. My laughter ended right then.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“But you should know, while I am no Torren knight nor Ancient warrior like the great Ancient in your book, I am talented with a blade,” he said as some of his wavy locks covered his forehead.

“I truly believe in Your Highness. I meant no offense.”

“No offense taken. I only must defend my honor here against your lack of faith in me.”

I looked directly into his brown eyes as I spoke next, and I watched as he grew a smile from my words.

“I do not doubt you. I have all confidence in Your Highness, that if you were on top of the same Haleston peak as the Ancient, Draken, was in this tale, you would have been able to put the traitor, King Falcon, inside that mountain yourself. May he rot in the mountain .”

“ May he rot in the mountain ,” Prince Peter echoed. “Thank you.” He gave a pleasant nod. “I have always been ashamed that Walden did not stand with the Ancients in The Great War,” he said with his lips turning downward. It was rare to see the prince frown. I did not like it.

“You need not be ashamed. That was so long ago.”

It was, in fact, hundreds of years earlier when the traitor, King Falcon chose to lead the divide between the magical beings and humans.

After Ancient Draken defeated King Falcon and imprisoned him inside the mountain, Draken swore to curse all of the royals who had sided with the Traitor King.

And he did just that. Generation after generation of royals had been cursed from all of the kingdoms that fought against the magical creatures.

Walden was one of the kingdoms that sided with the traitor.

I did not know much about the curses, but I knew there were ways to break them.

I had heard that a few had already been broken in other kingdoms. Rumors of that spread far and wide.

Curses were breaking. While how to break curses seemed unique to the individual curses, I hoped that one day Prince Peter would discover how to break his own curse, whatever it was.

“Yes, and yet we are all still cursed,” he said, looking from me to the wall. He lay back down with a huff upon the blue settee .

“I am sorry, Your Highness. I do not think it is right.”

“Is it not?” he asked softly, a vulnerability in his tone.

“No, you have done nothing against the Ancients. I believe the cursings should be over.”

“Thank you. I assure you, my hope is that someday they will end. Perhaps, if not in my lifetime, in my children’s lifetime.”

I nodded, but he could not see me because he had already closed his eyes.

“Shall I continue?”

“Wait—” Prince Peter said, sitting up, his eyes bright, and his brown hair a mess atop his head, causing me to smile at the pleasing boyish look, making him appear so casually handsome.

“Yes?” I asked.

His eyes danced with glee.

“Do you know what my curse is?” he asked, wiggling his brows, causing a smile to fall over my lips.

It was a rather heavy question. There had, of course, been so many rumors of what the last prince’s curse was.

Prince Peter was the only royal heir still living in Walden.

I did not know what his curse was. Some thought it was that he would die on his twenty-first birthday, while others said he could speak with ocean animals.

“I do not know, Your Highness.”

“Come on, you have to have a guess,” he said, sitting up straighter, excitement in those deep eyes of his.

The light in his eyes was so focused on me that it sent my heart fluttering. He was too handsome for his own good. For my good, as well. I could not embarrass my family with an infatuation for His Royal Highness.

“I heard that you might speak with the creatures from the sea?” I asked timidly.

He laughed, slapping his knee with his enthusiasm.

“No, although that would be a fine curse. That must have come about because I like to yell at the ocean.”

“Yell at the ocean?” Of course, I knew what he was referencing. Most had whispered about it, and yes, that was where I imagined the idea stemmed from.

“Yes, for you know the ocean took my father, brother, and sister. So from time to time, I become angry at the sea.”

“Was it not Ancient Draken who took them?” I asked.

“Well, perhaps, technically, yes; however, I cannot yell at him ,” he said, giving me a wink, and I gasped. He was acting incredibly informal.

Men should not wink at a lady who is not family or a close friend. Mother’s scolding came into my mind, but I shoved it away as I turned toward Martha, sitting in the corner, her eyes focused on her needlework.

“Well, I am sorry for your pain, Highness.”

“Thank you, Gwen. I can call you, ‘Gwen,’ can’t I?”

“No, that would not be—” I stumbled, feeling a bit lightheaded .

“You can call me, ‘Peter.’ Are we not friends by now? It has been an entire month of reading,” he said with a wave of his hand between us.

“I am afraid I cannot. You are the prince, and I am only a lady, not a princess,” I said, looking down and beginning to trace the colorful embroidery on my white skirt with my finger to calm my nerves.

“What if I demand it?”

“‘Demand’?” I asked with a shiver, looking from the embroidered design, over to the prince.

“Yes, I mean, I am the prince, so if I demanded that you call me ‘Peter,’ you would have to, wouldn’t you?” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Demand? Would he force me—like my mother—to do something I did not want to do? I sat straighter in my chair and glared at him.

“I will address you with the proper respect you deserve, and I expect you to do the same in return for me.” There , I could be clear and forceful.

“Have I upset you? I didn’t mean to. I would never force you, truly.

I was jesting. However, I truly would feel the most respected if you called me ‘Peter,’” he said, scooting himself to the end of the settee, as close to me as he could get without leaving it.

His eyes were soft, and his smile seemed sincere.

“I am not upset, but there are rules for these sorts of things. I apologize, Your Highness, but I could not,” I said, bending my head down again.

“What if I called you ‘Gwendolyn’?”

I clutched a hand over my heart. Him saying my full name without a title felt so strange; “Gwen” felt more appropriate to me, and I wondered why that was when no one had ever called me that before.

I was already having a hard time not becoming distracted while reading because he was so attractive, and I enjoyed looking at him.

My feelings were hard to contain, but I did well.

However, if he began calling me “Gwen” or “Gwendolyn,” I might have fainted.

I looked at him; he was earnest.

“Oh, no, no–that would not be proper,” I said slowly, shaking my head.

“And no ‘Gwen’ either?” He pulled one of the decorative light blue and gold beaded pillows onto his lap and leisurely played with one of the small golden tassels, waiting for my reply. I watched the tassel move, hypnotically, as I pondered his question.

No. No one has ever called me “Gwen.” My siblings, mostly Michael, my older brother called me “Wendy ” sometimes. But mostly, I was always called by my full name. Mother said she named me Gwendolyn , and so I should be called by that name unless, of course, I was addressed formally.

“Your Highness, I insist you call me ‘Lady Darling.’”

“Ah, truly?” he said, looking up with a pout. “What about a compromise, ‘Lady Gwendolyn Darling’?”

“No, I could not allow it. It is for the best, Your Highness.” I stood, closing the book, placing it in front of me. Books were ever my trusty shields. However, my shield against the prince was quite a different one than the one for my mother.

Prince Peter looked at the book, then at me.

“Have I scared you off, then?” He frowned.

“No, it is simply time I return home.”

“Very well, Gwendolyn—oh, I mean, Lady Darling,” he said with a large smirk. I heard Martha chuckle softly from the corner of the room, but I did not look her way. Of course, she would be on his side. I began to question her chaperoning abilities.

I glared at him. “See you tomorrow, Your Highness,” I said sharply.

“See you tomorrow,” he said with a rather overly gleeful smile.

I turned, and, with a bit of righteous anger, left the room with a few stomps.

He was making it rather difficult for me.

I cleared my throat and walked gracefully from the library, down the hallways, and out of the castle door.

I entered the royal carriage. There, I relaxed for only a moment before seeing the prince waving from the courtyard, his chest rising and falling.

Did he run out, just to wave goodbye to me? What is he about?

“See you tomorrow, Gwen!” he called. “I mean, Lady Darling!”

I closed the curtain, and my cheeks heated.

What is he doing? How embarrassing!