19. 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.”
“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.”
She paused to consider. The one thing—the only thing—she couldn’t do for Gwen was offer her a home. Not when Charlotte and Henry lived alone in an empty castle. The situation would be intolerable for all of them.
“Arcadia is well regarded as being a place of prosperity whose people are warm and welcoming,” she said in a rush. “My family has plans to move there. I could talk to them. I’m sure they would be willing to take you with them.”
A guilty part of her wondered if she was trying to send Gwen as far away as possible, but she pushed it aside. Gwen was clearly fleeing something, so distance was likely what she wanted.
Gwen hesitated, however, pulling her hand free just so she could wring both hands together. When she looked up at Charlotte, she looked tormented, and Charlotte’s heart seized.
“I don’t know what to do!” Gwen burst out. “There’s someone I have to find, but I don’t know where he’s gone. I don’t even know if he’s alive.” Her voice dropped to a whisper that was almost a sob. “I have to believe he’s alive.”
Cold washed over Charlotte, robbing her of proper thought. She put her hands in her lap, hoping Gwen wouldn’t notice them trembling.
“You’ve lost…him?” she asked carefully.
Gwen nodded, silent tears running down her face. “It’s been so many years since I’ve seen him. Maybe he doesn’t even remember me. But he’s the only one I trust. Now that I’m free, the only thing I want to do is find Easton. But I have no idea where to even start looking.” She wrung her hands together again.
Charlotte’s thoughts, which had seemed mired in molasses, sputtered and flared back to life.
“Easton?” she asked. “Did you say his name is Easton?”
Gwen leaned forward, excitement sparking in her face. “Do you know him? Have you met someone by that name? Someone else without a home?”
Charlotte quickly shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know any Eastons.”
“Oh.” Gwen sat back, all the animation leaving her.
But Charlotte felt alive in a way she hadn’t since discovering the portrait. It was all she could do to keep sitting still and talking to Gwen as if nothing had happened.
“Do you love this Easton?” she asked, holding her breath as she waited for the answer.
Gwen flushed, the color making her even more beautiful. “I haven’t seen him for ten years. He may be married with children by now for all I know. But I certainly loved him fiercely as a child. He was my only playmate and companion.”
“Did his family move away?” Charlotte asked.
Gwen’s brows contracted, her face growing dark. “No, he just disappeared one day.”
Charlotte gasped. Did Gwen think he had run away? Surely she had considered the likelihood of a more awful possibility.
“You…you don’t think he met with an…accident?” she asked hesitantly. “Was he the type to run away?”
“No!” Gwen said fiercely. “He wouldn’t have run away and left me without a word. He didn’t leave by choice.”
Charlotte bit her lip, and Gwen winced.
“I know how it must sound,” she said. “Sometimes in my most despairing moments, I think he must have fallen down a ravine or met a wild animal and be dead. But he was strong and clever and resilient. When he was cast out, he would have found a way to live. I’m sure of it.”
“Someone sent him away? As a child?” Charlotte asked horrified. “Surely not!”
Gwen shivered. “You don’t know my—” She cut herself off. “You don’t know the woman who rules my home. I used to fear she killed him, but she claimed not to have done so. Just removed him.” Her voice dwindled. “I sometimes think she would have gotten rid of Nanny too if she hadn’t died.”
Charlotte’s face paled. What sort of horrible situation had Gwen escaped from?
She had wanted to help before, but the rush of warm feeling had grown in the wake of Gwen’s revelation. Gwen wasn’t searching for Henry, but for Easton. He was the sole focus of her memories and hopes.
That knowledge gave Charlotte the hope she had been lacking. If Henry’s love had been one-sided, it changed everything. She had thought his enchantment and Charlotte herself stood between Henry and his lost love. She had thought it might be her duty to remove herself so he could be happy.
But if a future with Gwen had never been possible, then perhaps she didn’t have to leave. Perhaps, Henry was in the process of forgetting the past and growing happy in the new life he had created.
“Where are you from?” she asked Gwen, filled with determination to repay the gift Gwen didn’t even know she had given Charlotte. “If you’re right, and he was banished from your home, we can use it as a starting point and work out a search plan. There may be somewhere obvious he would have gone.”
She gazed expectantly at Gwen. The other woman grew first pale and then red again, her hands tightening convulsively on each other.
Charlotte frowned, instinct telling her what Gwen feared. “Have you been keeping your home a secret? Because you’re scared of the people you left behind? I promise I won’t tell anyone anything about you unless you want me to.” Indignation filled her voice. “And if the monsters you’ve left behind ever come searching for you, I certainly wouldn’t reveal anything about your whereabouts.”
Gwen smiled, a shaky gesture. “Do you think if I had been born here, we would have been friends? I’ve never had an ordinary friend before. But I always wished for one.”
Charlotte reclaimed one of Gwen’s hands. “Of course we would have been friends! I only wish you had been born here.” She paused, examining the other woman’s face. “Would you like to stay here? I’m sure I could find a household in the valley that would be willing to take you in permanently if that’s what you’d like. Are you sure you want to search for Easton? You might never find him.”
Gwen was already shaking her head before Charlotte finished.
“Logically I know the search is almost hopeless. But I can’t just give up on him. Not without at least trying.”
“Then you have to try,” Charlotte said stoutly. “Which leads us back to making a search route.” She gave Gwen a coaxing look. “Can’t you tell me where you’ve come from?”
In the back of her mind was the thought that whatever community Gwen had left, it wasn’t a healthy one. If she’d come from one of the valleys, Charlotte would have to convince her to report them to Master Harold. And if she came from somewhere further away…Perhaps Harold could still report them to Rangmeros. The capital had responsibility over the whole kingdom, and she doubted they would be happy to hear of a community that had gone as rogue as Gwen’s clearly had.
“I come from the mountains,” Gwen whispered, silencing Charlotte’s thoughts.
“The mountains?” Charlotte looked instinctively toward the ranges that towered over them. “You mean one of the valleys that’s deeper in? I’ve heard there are a couple…” She trailed off since Gwen was already shaking her head.
“I come from the mountain kingdom.” She still spoke in a whisper.
Charlotte stared at her, struck silent by the claim. The mountain kingdom was just a legend!
But was it? Henry had asked her to look for information about them, and she had heard the occasional hushed whisper in the valley. But none of those instances had convinced her the mountain people were anything other than stories created by those who gazed up at the impassable mountains in awe.
Gwen’s claim was another matter, however.
“You’re saying you grew up in the mountains?” she clarified. “Not in one of the valleys but actually deep in the mountains? And there’s a whole kingdom there?”
Gwen nodded, her face pale. She seemed to understand the import of what she was revealing.
Charlotte leaned back, trying to absorb it. Gazing at her new friend, she noticed her straight posture and thought of everything she had said—and not said. After seeing her portrait in Henry’s castle, Charlotte had been certain she was a princess. But sitting in the forest with Gwen, it had seemed nothing more than fancy. Not only was she alone in the depths of Rangmere, but Charlotte had learned the royal families of all the kingdoms as a child and none of them had contained a Princess Gwen.
She had never learned about the royal family of the mountain kingdom, however. Her earlier certainty returned. She wasn’t just talking to a girl from the fabled lost people. She was talking to the mountain princess. And something was terribly wrong in their kingdom if she had been forced to flee.
Charlotte swallowed down the enormity of the revelation and nodded slowly. “Very well, then. Is it possible Easton is somewhere in the mountains? I have no idea how you would search the peaks for a lone person.” She gazed again at the glimpse of distant stone visible through the canopy.
“It would be an impossible task.” Gwen slumped before rallying with a determined look. “But the mountains are a death sentence, and the queen said Easton was banished. There are ways out of the mountains—we have a few traders who make the trek in secret—and I think she might have abandoned him on this side of the mountains.”
Charlotte raised her eyebrows at this information, but it made sense. If the mountain kingdom existed, then the stories hadn’t been mere fancy after all, and they must have originated somewhere.
“Do you have any idea where the paths exit the mountains?” Charlotte asked. “If we could work out where he came out…”
Gwen grimaced. “I wish I knew. But I came out by…another means.” Her hand strayed to her pocket.
Charlotte waited, full of curiosity, but Gwen said nothing more. Charlotte would have liked to press her for more information, but it seemed rude, so she let it go. She had secrets enough of her own, so she couldn’t fault others for keeping their own counsel.
“I think Harold might know something about the routes,” Gwen blurted out. “It’s why I’ve stayed with his family so long. I’ve been trying to convince him to tell me, but he won’t talk about it. From what I can gather, only a chosen few valley folk are permitted to meet and trade with the mountain delegations. I think the queen’s people might have threatened those valley folk that if word gets out more broadly, they’ll lose their trade.”
Charlotte’s mouth fell open as several things clicked into place. Her aunt and uncle were clearly among the chosen few to be permitted to act as traders—it was the source of their extra wealth. And it must have taken her father all these years to gain enough trust to be included in their number.
But that new knowledge did nothing to help Gwen. “The most obvious place to look is the valleys,” she said briskly. “So you’ve done well coming here. Have you asked Harold if he’s met anyone by the name of Easton?”
Gwen nodded. “He says he hasn’t.”
“Hmmm…” Charlotte hummed to herself as she thought. “That rules out all the closer valleys. We should ask him for help, though. He could provide a map of the remaining valleys and mark off those where he knows all the residents. That will narrow the initial search a little. Unless Easton changed his name when he arrived.” She looked to Gwen. “Would he have felt the need to do that if he was on the run from…your kingdom?”
Gwen frowned. “I suppose it’s possible. But I did ask Harold if he knew of any boys who had arrived alone ten years ago, and he seemed certain there was no one like that in any of his valleys.”
Charlotte nodded. “Good point. Even if his name has changed, it’s a unique enough situation that people should remember him.” She frowned. “But are you really going to travel through Rangmere alone?”
Gwen shivered. “What other option do I have? It’s not that I want to be alone, but I have no one. As it is, I feel terrible for imposing on Harold and his family just because he’s the local official.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Charlotte said as cheerfully as she could. “I’m sure they’re glad of the company. Society is so restricted out here that all newcomers are a matter of interest.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying, so I’ve allowed myself to be talked into staying this long.” Gwen didn’t sound happy about that weakness on her part.
“They’re not making excuses,” Charlotte said. “They really mean it.”
Gwen gave her a tremulous smile, and Charlotte wanted to give her a hug. How quickly her feelings toward the other woman had undergone a complete shift.
“You also haven’t heard of an Easton,” Gwen said after a pause. “So that might be another valley I can cross off the search. Which valley are you living in now with your husband?”
It was an innocent question, but it sent a surge of longing through Charlotte. Her thoughts and emotions had been trapped inside her, in such intense turmoil, and she hadn’t been able to speak of them to anyone. Even now that she had returned home, she couldn’t talk about the truth with her parents and sisters. Her husband had asked her to remain silent, but she would have known it was a bad idea anyway. Her relationship with her family was tangled enough, and they had only just reached a new place of peace.
But here in this secluded clearing, real life seemed distant. She had made a friend, and impossible as it had initially seemed, one who felt like a kindred soul. For the first time, she felt it was possible to talk about the incredible turns her life had taken since her wedding, and she couldn’t help wanting to be honest even though she had known Gwen for less than a day.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Charlotte felt a twinge of discomfort. Henry had only told her not to speak of their nights to her parents, but surely he had meant to keep it private in general. He knew her history, and he wouldn’t have thought there was anyone else she would be tempted to tell. He couldn’t possibly have guessed she would run into Gwen.
Charlotte ignored the small voice of caution. She was so full of emotions, she was going to burst if she couldn’t get them out.
Or do you just want to make sure Gwen knows Henry is yours? a less pleasant voice asked.
Charlotte brushed that one aside too. Of course it wasn’t jealousy motivating her. Gwen had Easton.
“Actually,” she said, her voice trembling with a heady mix of excitement and nerves now that she was finally telling someone the truth of her strange situation, “my husband doesn’t come from the valleys. I don’t know where he comes from originally, but we have a castle in the nearby mountains.”
“A castle? In the mountains?”
Before Gwen could ask any more questions, the story poured out of Charlotte. She told how the white bear had approached her family and about the wealth and escape he’d offered in exchange for marriage. When she mentioned his name, she watched Gwen closely, but there wasn’t so much as a flicker of recognition or curiosity.
Charlotte’s hope surged afresh. Gwen didn’t appear to even know a missing man named Henry. If his love for Gwen was not only one-sided but had developed from afar, then surely such a hollow emotion might have already been supplanted by the wife he spent all his days with? Now she knew Gwen was the mountain princess, it seemed more than possible that Henry—who must also be from the mountain kingdom if he knew Gwen—might have loved her from a distance.
Charlotte had been too hasty in leaving him, and now the hours before his return stretched out far too long.
But in the meantime, she’d found a new and completely unexpected friend. Buoyed up by her relief and the heady excitement it created, she continued on with her tale. She described the castle he had taken her to, and the building provoked more questions from Gwen than the revelation that Charlotte had married a bear.
The more detail she gave on the castle, the deeper Gwen’s frown grew. But now that Charlotte had begun, she couldn’t stop. The rest of the story followed, culminating in her discovery that Henry was really a man and the way they spent their nights lying side by side in the pitch darkness.
When she finished, silence fell on the clearing. It lasted until Gwen spoke in a voice that trembled slightly.
“You’re married to a man who turns into a white bear every day?”