Page 30 of To Ride the Wind

The bear glanced at one of the long windows that framed the doorway. “There isn’t time now. I will explain it to you later—it will be easier then anyway. For now, you should hurry and take this.” He gestured toward the bell with his head.

“The godmother object? You want me to take it?” Charlotte stared at him.

“Of course,” he said. “It’s my wedding gift to you. You need only ring it and anything you wish will appear. You can use it to turn this place into a comfortable home. Please feel free to make any changes to the castle that you desire.”

He glanced at the window again before muttering something hurried and dark. When he started to move, fresh horror filled Charlotte.

“But wait!” she cried, grasping for the first time that he meant to leave her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m sorry,” he growled, not looking back in her direction. “There is no more time. Use the bell, and you will be able to sleep in comfort. I will explain what more I can…later.”

“Wait! No! Stop!” she cried, but it was too late, he was already through one of the doors that opened off the entranceway.

Belatedly, she ran after him, pulling open the door that had swung closed in his wake. But although the door opened into a long corridor, he was nowhere in sight. He had already disappeared. Charlotte was truly alone.

She swayed for a moment, fearing her legs might give way. But despite herself, the warmth and light of the entranceway drew her back inside. Her eyes fell on the bell, discarded on the floor where they had been standing, and she hurried back to it.

When she reached it, she paused, gazing down at it. She couldn’t doubt it was a godmother object—not after seeing its powers displayed. But did she dare pick it up—claim it? Who was she to possess something so rare and valuable?

Princess Charlotte. The echo of the bear’s words made her chuckle, something she would have thought impossible only minutes before. Why shouldn’t she claim it, after all? She was mistress of a vast castle now—empty though it might be. The bear had said it was a wedding gift. If so, it was the only one she had received, and she would not spurn it.

Drawing a deep breath, she wrapped her hand around the wooden handle. It was smooth to the touch, the whole thing weighing less than she expected. She laughed at herself. Had she thought its value would increase its weight? It was a small thing and should be light.

Holding it carefully motionless, she considered the world of possibilities in the bear’s earlier declaration. By ringing this bell, she might have anything her heart desired.

Any material thing, an unwelcome voice whispered. It cannot create love for you or companionship.

She shook the thoughts away and considered what she wanted. She knew what her sisters would wish for. Gowns, jewels, chests of gold. Her mother might wish for a feast. Her father for sturdy walls.

Holding those thoughts in her mind, she rang the bell. Nothing happened. Or rather, nothing she could see. But she had been wishing for something far away. Was it possible the power of the bell worked at such a distance, and she had just gifted her family the bride price they had sought?

A vindictive part of her wanted to wish it away again, just in case. But for all her lingering resentment, she would gain nothing by wishing misery on her family. If the bell had done something for them—as impossible as that seemed—she would leave it be. Her thoughts were better spent on her own immediate needs.

Her eyes traveled the stone of the castle entryway. She had sturdy enough walls to keep out an invading army. And she doubted her ability to eat—not with her emotions in such turmoil. Fancy gowns and jewels would be equally wasted. Who was there here to see them?

She considered again. Her family’s wishes would do her no good. What did she want?

The answer came immediately. After everything that had happened, she longed for nothing so much as the comfort of her bed and blankets she could pull over her head. She wanted to collapse into a soft mattress and enjoy the oblivion of a few hours’ unconsciousness. Surely this strange new home would be easier to accept in the light of day.

Smiling at herself, she rang the bell. “My own room with a warm bed,” she said, knowing it wasn’t the sort of thing the bell could provide.

But to her astonishment, a door in the far wall swung immediately open, lights springing up in the corridor beyond it as candles flared into life along its length.

Charlotte hesitated for only a moment before picking up her discarded bundle and hurrying toward the door. Once in the corridor, she could see that the lit candles created a pathway, guiding her through the castle. She followed where they led until a second door swung open for her, creaking with a reminder that the castle was old and abandoned despite the lack of dust.

She paused in the doorway, peering inside. An enormous room emanated warmth and light. A large fireplace crackled with a cozy fire and deep, forest green carpet enticed her to step inside. The heavy brocade curtains were a lighter shade of green, while the green of the bedspread was enlivened with intricate gold embroidery. The curtains of the enormous four-poster were tied back with heavy gold cord and tassels, beckoning her to slip between the crisp white sheets.

“But it’s huge,” she gasped aloud as the door swung closed behind her. She had never seen or imagined such a large bed. “I’ll be lost in that!”

She glanced dubiously at the bell in her hand, but another look at the room made her discard the idea of attempting to use it again. The enchantment might have miscalculated the size of the bed, but everything else was perfect, and she didn’t want to risk changing anything.

Cautiously she placed the bell down on the walnut side table that was placed conveniently beside the bed. She didn’t want to risk ringing it by accident. What if the bell attempted to make something out of her confused thoughts?

Although her meager things seemed laughably out of place in the room, Charlotte unpacked her bundle, changing quickly into the long nightgown she had brought with her. The material felt rough against the softness of the sheets as she crawled between them, and she suspected she would soon be requesting new clothes from the bell.

But she would wait for the next day. Surely the bear would return in the morning, and she would have the chance to ask more specifically about how the bell worked.

Wistfully she considered how he had run from her. What had been so urgent that he needed to abandon her like that?

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