Page 57 of To Ride the Wind

“Great.” Charlotte sank down onto the grass. “So the story has spread to the neighboring valleys too.”

What she really wanted was to run away, but her legs wouldn’t let her. They wouldn’t even hold her upright anymore, so there she was, sitting at the feet of the woman from the painting. Charlotte couldn’t lie to herself and pretend it didn’t sting.

But the woman immediately sat as well, resuming her original position so she faced Charlotte. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and sympathy, so she must have sensed something of her new companion’s inner turmoil.

Of course, if she knew who Charlotte actually was, she would no doubt hate her. Unless Henry’s love had been one-sided. Charlotte couldn’t believe that, though. What woman could resist loving Henry?

“Are there a lot of…white bears in this area?” the woman asked after a long moment of silence.

The way she asked the question made Charlotte’s head snap up. She sounded hesitant and wistful and almost afraid. Before Charlotte could formulate an answer, the woman continued.

“I’ve been in the area for a few weeks now. I’m only passing through, but everyone has been more than friendly. The local official and his family have taken me under their wing and include me in their meals, although I prefer to sleep outside now the weather is warm enough.” She looked uncomfortable, and Charlotte wondered if she was unused to sleeping in the company of strangers.

“I try to repay them by gathering what I can,” the woman continued, gesturing at a half-full basket Charlotte hadn’t noticed before. Her lips twisted in a self-deprecating way. “I’m not very good at it, though.”

“You’ve been staying with Master Harold and his wife?” Charlotte asked.

The woman’s brows lifted. “You know them? Are you a local, then?” Her brow furrowed. “I thought I met everyone from this valley when they celebrated the birth of the new baby from three houses over. I would have noticed you, though.”

Charlotte wondered fleetingly why none of her family had mentioned Harold having an extended guest—an odd one who refused to sleep in his house. But she could hardly blame them for the omission given Charlotte had fled into the woods at the first opportunity.

“You probably met my sisters,” she said dully. “Elizabeth and Odelia?”

“Oh yes!” the woman said, but she sounded cautious.

Despite herself, Charlotte’s lips twisted upward. “Let me guess, they weren’t delighted at the arrival of a new and beautiful young woman in their midst?”

The woman bit her lip and looked to the side, clearly uncomfortable. Charlotte winced. She shouldn’t have said that, but she still felt so off balance. The woman was being friendly, but the last thing Charlotte wanted was to become friends with her. And yet, at the same time, she couldn’t suppress an insatiable desire to know more about her.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Forget I said that. I’m Charlotte, by the way. I used to live here before my marriage.”

Mentioning Henry, even in passing, sent a jolt of pain through her. The woman seemed to notice and frowned in response as if concerned, but she didn’t comment on it.

“My name is Gwen. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Charlotte.”

Gwen. Charlotte regarded the woman in the painting who finally had a name. Gwen. She moved with the same elegance Charlotte had picked up from the portrait, and her gown looked like Charlotte’s—too fancy for a walk in the woods.

Just seeing her image had been enough to plant the idea that she was a princess. Meeting her in person did nothing to erase that impression. But despite herself, Charlotte felt the same curiosity and sympathy growing toward Gwen that Gwen seemed to feel toward her.

They had met by chance in this forest, but neither of them belonged here—not anymore. On the outside, this place might be home for Charlotte—or an old home, at least—but inside she was lost, alone, and in pain. If she felt the pull of a kindred soul toward Gwen, did that mean Gwen felt as she did inside? What had brought her to this place? Why was a young woman traveling the kingdom alone?

“So you’ve returned from your new home to visit your family?” Gwen asked, clearly trying to inject some cheerful normalcy into the conversation. “You must be so happy to see them.”

“Yes,” Charlotte said, the answer surprising her with its honesty. “I am.” She hesitated, but again she felt the unexpected pull toward Gwen and the desire to be honest with her. “We didn’t leave on the best terms, so it’s been a relief to reconcile with them.”

A wistful look came into Gwen’s eyes, and on impulse Charlotte reached out and clasped one of her hands.

“What about you?” she asked. “Have you left someone behind in need of reconciliation? I left my home once in anger and bitterness, so you’ll receive no judgment from me.”

Gwen shrank in on herself, but it didn’t seem to be from offense at Charlotte’s words. Instead, after a moment, she shook her head.

“The one I’m fleeing is beyond reconciliation.” The stark look in her eyes shook Charlotte, and she knew instantly that if she could help Gwen, she had to do so.

Her jealousy didn’t matter beside whatever horror this woman was fleeing. If Charlotte truly loved Henry, she would do anything she could to aid Gwen in finding escape and healing. It was what he would want.

Charlotte squeezed her hand, putting every bit of sympathy and compassion into her expression that she could.

“I hope you know that you’re safe here,” she said. “No one in this valley will hurt you. And though Rangmere isn’t the warmest of kingdoms, it has changed greatly since Queen Ava and King Hans took the throne. If you head for the capital, I believe you will find assistance there as well.”

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