Page 65 of To Ride the Wind

Henry himself said as little as possible until they had departed and were traveling through the trees.

“How did it go?” A world of tension lay beneath the words. Had he been worrying about her for the last three days?

Charlotte leaned forward, resting her cheek against the fur of his neck. Had he been taking proper care of himself? What had he done alone at night in his human form? Without her to sleep beside had he roamed the empty corridors?

The only thought she couldn’t stomach was the idea that he might have spent those nights alone in the dining room. But memories of the portrait—once so painful—led her now to thoughts of Gwen and her search for Easton. Even if Henry’s feelings still lingered, she would find a way to drive them out. Now that she knew there was no bereft love waiting for him, nothing could make her give him up. Henry was hers, just like she was his, and she would hold onto him with every bit of her strength.

“Lottie?” he asked at her silence, and warmth rushed through her at the nickname. She had missed hearing it. She had missed him.

“Thank you,” she said. “For suggesting I go home and for taking me there. I didn’t realize how much I needed to reconcile with my parents. Even my sisters were kind to me like they used to be when we were small. Now that I’m gone and they’re rich, everything is forgiven.”

She couldn’t keep a hint of sourness from appearing in the last sentence, but it was tempered with amusement. Her sisters were who they were, and there was nothing for Charlotte to do apart from accept that fact. She couldn’t force them to change, and she would only make herself miserable hoping for it. They wouldn’t be bothered in the least.

“It was a good time.” Henry repeated, both relieved and pleased. “I was worried I’d done the wrong thing sending you to them. They have never treated you as you deserved, and I spent the whole time you were gone worried I’d only delivered you into further heartbreak. Perhaps you’d be better without them in your life at all.”

“No,” Charlotte said quickly. “My parents apologized for the past, and everyone treated me well. I know my life is with you now—I welcome that—but my past is still important to me. They’re still important to me.”

Henry grunted as if not entirely convinced.

“I’m sorry you worried, though,” Charlotte said softly.

“I just hope it won’t make you feel more lonely in the castle,” Henry said, still sounding concerned.

“No,” Charlotte said fervently. “As much as I liked seeing my family again, I missed home. Our home.” Her voice dipped shyly on the last two words, and he rumbled in response.

“Our home,” he repeated, in his deep, gravely voice, and the sound filled her with happiness. She was with Henry again, and they were going home.

And soon it would be night.

The trees flew past, and when the castle finally appeared, Charlotte felt actual tears at the sight of the sober gray stone. She never would have guessed how comfortable a home the castle would become.

They parted ways as usual, but Charlotte could barely make it through her usual evening routine. Food might as well have been paper in her mouth for its lack of taste, and the candle still burned beneath her dress, although it had never been lit.

When it came time to undress, she hid it carefully beneath her pillow. Almost as soon as she’d extinguished the normal candelabra—triggering the accustomed descent of pure darkness—the door opened. Henry had never arrived so promptly before, and she dared to hope he had missed her some fraction of the amount she had missed him.

He sighed as he slid between the sheets, keeping to their usual distance.

“It’s nice to have you back,” he said simply. “I managed alone here without you before our wedding, but now…”

Charlotte glowed at his words. He really had missed her. He wanted her here. Maybe she was right in hoping he had already started to forget his youthful interest in the princess and was turning toward his wife instead.

“I’m glad to be back,” she murmured, wondering if the extent of her emotion sounded in her voice. “I won’t leave you again.”

“It was a fortunate day when I first saw you and your sisters in the woods.” The sound of his voice told her he’d rolled over and was lying on his side facing toward her.

“You mentioned you’d seen us before,” Charlotte said. “But how did you decide to propose to me? And why me?”

She asked the questions shamelessly, the fear she had felt before over his answers gone.

“From the moment I saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you, Lottie.”

She laughed, unable to help the glow of satisfaction.

“Do you not believe me?” he asked. “How could I look away? You’re like sunshine itself. I knew I needed to find a wife, and as soon as I saw you, I knew I wanted it to be you. Seeing you made me feel like I’d spent the last months beneath solid gray cloud and the sun had finally appeared.”

She considered his words. “You needed a wife. Because of your enchantment.” She was skirting dangerously close to topics he had declared off limits, but she couldn’t help herself. “And you picked me because you thought I was beautiful.” She wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended.

Henry groaned. “That sounds terribly shallow, doesn’t it? But it wasn’t like that. Of course I noticed your beauty—it would be impossible not to. But I’ve seen plenty of beautiful women before. What drew me to you was something else. The brightness in you was in your expression and your words, not just your features. Even the way you carried yourself…”