Page 56 of To Ride the Wind

Easton stood on the seawall and gazed out at the endless stretch of ocean. He had always liked this spot. Standing here, he felt surrounded by the sea in a way that could only be rivaled by standing on the deck of a ship.

The wildness of it reminded him of his childhood home in the mountains. And thinking of his home reminded him of her.

There was little point in thinking of Gwen. When he had been cast out, it had been made very clear to him that he would never see her or his family again.

He had even accepted it, in his own way. Or at least he had made the necessary peace that allowed him to forge a new life and to continue on each day. But he hadn’t been able to purge Gwen from his mind. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

Was she all right? It seemed a foolish thought. Of course she wasn’t. Nanny was already gone, and now Easton was gone too. She was alone in that castle of stone with only her stepmother.

He regretted that he hadn’t told her the truth about her real mother. If only he had run to Gwen when he found out instead of rushing to confront the queen like a hotheaded child.

But there was no use in such regrets. He couldn’t change his actions now. He could only hope someone else would muster the courage to tell her the truth.

He didn’t regret being free from under the queen’s oppressive watch. He only wished Gwen could join him in his freedom. If she and his parents were by his side, he could happily make Ranost his home forever. The coastal town wasn’t large, but it had work enough. And it had the sea.

He breathed deeply, tasting the salt on the wind.

He dreamed of the princess sometimes. And the Gwen of his dreams always wore the same face—a grown up version of the one he used to know. Sometimes, she was alone, looking sad and wistful. Occasionally she laughed with a friend, although the other girl always seemed to be cleaning on those occasions, as if the presence of soap and water lightened the princess’s mood.

And other times she wandered beneath the moon, her hand resting on the shoulder of a large white bear. He liked those dreams the best. It comforted him to think of Gwen with a silent protector at her side. He had filled that role once—doing more to shield her than she had realized—but he was gone now, and he hated to think of his childhood playmate alone.

The wind gusted against him, caressing his cheek and rifling through his hair. If only it could bring him news of his old home.

Were his parents still alive and well? Had they suffered for his defiance? If they had been banished from court, he didn’t think they would regret it. Life in the city was at least a little freer than life in the palace, if only because it wasn’t so close to the queen. Neither of his parents had ever desired power. They had only escaped the purge of the king’s old inner circle because they had never been close to him.

Familiar anger rose at thoughts of Queen Celandine. He let it come, let it wash over him. For a moment his hands balled into fists.

But then he gazed out across the ocean and breathed in the salty air. He let the steady pull and crash of the waves pull the emotions back out again.

“You are right and just, Anger,” he murmured. “But you cannot serve me in this moment. I still have life and breath and work to sustain myself. That is what I must focus on in this moment.”

He felt the calm of the ocean seep into him—the calm that came when he remembered that his was just one life among countless in the kingdoms and that even Queen Celandine’s power was nothing compared to the vastness of the ocean.

The last time he had faced the mountain queen, he had still been on the threshold of childhood. But now he was a man grown. If he ever faced the queen again, he knew the anger would be there, ready.

It would take courage to face her, he knew that. And his anger at all the wrongs she had committed would spur that courage. If he had another chance to stand up for Gwen, he wouldn’t fail again.

CHARLOTTE

The woman in the clearing smiled hesitantly at Charlotte. But as she took in Charlotte’s obvious shock, her smile faltered. She stepped closer, staring more intently at Charlotte’s face, and then let out a cry.

“You’re the girl from the portrait!” she exclaimed, stealing the words from Charlotte’s own mouth.

From the woman, they made no sense.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she managed to say through numb lips.

“Your dress is different, of course,” the woman said, smiling at Charlotte in a friendly way. “And you’re missing the bear.” She laughed as if she’d made a joke, but tension shot through Charlotte at the mention of Henry.

“Excuse me?” she asked before remembering that the whole valley must know she’d married a bear. This woman couldn’t know his real identity. “Are you saying someone here has painted a picture of me with…a white bear?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “It was white! How did you know? Don’t tell me you actually have a bear companion?”

Charlotte shook her head, trying to shake loose her brain. The whole interaction felt like a dream. Perhaps she’d stopped to rest somewhere and had fallen asleep. She’d spent enough hours thinking of this woman that it was plausible she would appear in her dreams.

Examining the woman again, Charlotte had to admit the scene felt too real to be a dream. And if it was one, shouldn’t she understand—in the magical way of dreams—why something in the conversation had brought a shadow to the other woman’s face? There was tension there that hadn’t been there earlier.

“It wasn’t in this valley that I saw the portrait,” the woman said after an awkward moment. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

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