Page 39 of To Ride the Wind

Henry gave a rumbling growl. “I don’t have a lifetime.”

Charlotte winced. “I’m sure we’ll find something soon.” She picked up another book. She had been skimming them, stopping when she found anything of potential interest and reading it aloud. But other than a story about eleven brothers who were turned into swans, there hadn’t been anything that seemed relevant.

She had been excited by the story of the brothers, but according to the legend, they had been freed when their sister took a vow of silence and knit them all shirts from stinging nettles. The whole thing sounded hideously unpleasant, and she was afraid Henry might ask her to try it. But he rejected the idea before she even mentioned it, seeming certain it wasn’t the answer to his situation.

As the light outside the windows finally began to fade, Henry excused himself. Charlotte didn’t want to be left alone, but she was conscious that he had barely eaten all day, subsisting mainly on water which he had to lap from a dish. She didn’t know what he ate in his bear form, and she didn’t want to ask too many questions. Whatever practical life matters he needed to tend to, it was best he did them away from her.

She also could use some time to take care of the practical necessities, although she had never washed and changed into her nightgown so quickly in her life. Once again she was grateful for the bell’s provision since the nightgown she found in her new wardrobe was far softer than anything she had worn before. Unlike the night before, she felt no discrepancy between her garment and the sheets as she slipped into bed.

This time, she didn’t linger in bed with the candles lit. As cozy as the crackling fire was, she felt only eagerness to blow out her candle and be plunged into darkness.

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte lay in bed, filled with anticipation, despite an entire day spent in Henry’s company. And sure enough, within only a few minutes, her straining ears heard the sound of the door opening.

“Henry?” she called, the name slipping out before she could stop it. Despite her newfound knowledge, it was hard to shake the fear of such complete darkness.

“It’s me,” he said reassuringly. “I would never allow anyone else to come into this place and frighten you.”

She felt instantly at ease, remembering that the darkness itself was a sign of the control he exerted over the castle thanks to the bell. Real or not, this castle was his domain.

During the day, they had spoken of the books and the things they discovered in them, their attention on his enchantment—although he had refused to give her details of how he had come to be trapped in it.

But she felt instinctively that those weren’t topics for the night. Here, in their shared bed, they were just Henry and Lottie, beginning a marriage the wrong way round—getting to know each other after their vows instead of before.

Haltingly, she asked him about his childhood, and he spoke with warmth of loving parents and a younger sister. A pang of longing hit her at the way he talked about his sister. She had always dreamed of feeling that way about her sisters.

But she reminded herself that she had at least had Daisy, and when Henry returned her questions, she spoke of her old friend rather than her sisters by blood.

When their talking drifted slowly off, Charlotte lay there and listened to Henry’s breathing shift to become slow and rhythmic as sleep claimed him. She had shared a room with her sisters for years but lying here beside her husband felt entirely different. Even if they were separated by the expanse of the bed, she could still feel his electrifying presence.

Only the previous night, the distance between them had felt safe, but now she found herself wishing she could roll closer. She could hear his breathing, but she wanted to feel the warmth of his body as well, as he lay close enough to touch.

She forced down the foolish thought. It was enough that she wasn’t alone in this strange place. She would sleep, and in the morning, she would be reminded that far more than a stretch of empty blanket lay between them.

Eventually she slept, waking alone as she had the first morning. This time she hurried through her morning routine, however, eager to return to the library and Henry.

When she stepped into the corridor, he was waiting for her in his bear form.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew the way to the library yet,” he said in his deep voice, and she gave in to instinct and wrapped her arms around his broad neck, resting her cheek against his soft fur.

He stiffened for a moment before relaxing and pressing back against her, which she took as a bear’s version of returning the hug.

“Thank you,” she said, wishing she could find the words to express everything in her heart. From the first moment of their meeting he had shown more consideration for her than her own family.

When she let go and stepped back, she wondered if she should feel embarrassed by her display. She couldn’t muster the emotion, however. Somehow it was much easier to express affection to Henry in this form than in his true one.

They spent another companionable day in the library, although they found nothing of import. Charlotte knew she should feel impatient to free Henry, but it was hard to maintain a sense of impatience in the face of such contentment.

As on the previous day, Henry disappeared before the sun set, and she was able to watch him go without a qualm. Already the castle was becoming a warm and friendly place, and she struggled to remember why she had found it so unwelcoming at first.

Again he appeared quickly at night, and again they spoke of their lives and dreams, speaking as if there was no enchantment or mountain isolation. They might have been any two people getting to know one another.

He told her he had always dreamed of a big family, and although it made her cheeks furnace hot, Charlotte agreed. By silent agreement they kept the topic abstract—for all the intimacy of their nights together, the barrier of Henry’s enchantment still lay between them. But it still thrilled her to know they agreed although their motivations were different.

Henry wanted multiple children because of the love he had received from his parents and sister—he wanted more of the warmth that had saturated his childhood. Whereas Charlotte wanted the chance to make a different family from the one she had grown up in. She was determined she would never stand by and see one of her children excluded.

Days and nights passed in the same manner—so many days that Charlotte was vaguely conscious her wedding had been weeks ago and spring had reached the valleys in earnest. Spring had certainly bloomed inside Charlotte.