2 Zarev
“Leave the girl be and kill the King.”
Unhelpfully, my Hell Brother isn’t offering any sort of advice that I can work with. I know what my mission is supposed to be, but that doesn’t help with the current problem.
“Midas isn’t the one who is causing the death toll to drop. Not in any way that I can see.”
“You’re not keeping up things in the East,” Lucius says, his voice grating on my nerves. I called him to see if he could shed light on some of the ways royals think, and thus far all I’ve gotten are vague reminders that I just need to find the problem and kill it. The spirits should rise again when the problem is dead. “Tressa is hidden, and their allies are limited. Midas made enemies hiding behind the wall. You need to deal with the problems in your territory.”
“The problems in my territory extend further than Tressa. This whole area is infested with problems.”
“So is everywhere else in Mystica,” Lucius gripes, and I won’t get any pity from my old friend. As I watch through the stone, he brushes back hair that’s so blonde it’s nearly white, the slashes through both of his eyes making him look even more dangerous.
He’s mostly blind. One of the punishments he received in the Red Woods. With any luck, we’ll never have to go back there, not to the Queen’s court.
“I just got here Lucius,” I gripe, dragging a hand over my face. I'm sure with his limited vision, even with the magic, he can barely make me out. “I'm pretty sure the magic interrupting death is the princess.”
I stopped into the chambers where Midas holds council to observe. Usually I can travel where I please, and so long as I have the shadows to shield me no one ever sees me. The princess spotting me, and being so certain that I’m there, throws a lot of things into question.
Only the dead see Reapers when we use our shadow magic. And the princess is very much among the living.
“I've heard of Tressa’s golden flower,” Lucius snaps. He might not see well anymore, but his ears are keen. Behind the thorny rose hedges he broods in his palace, but when the itch kicks in, he travels to the nearest town for gossip and to do his damn job. He might have the least area to control in his zone, mainly because we do not mess with anyone past the Red Woods.
And besides, he’s got a girl of his own to take care of. Last I heard he couldn’t get her to leave the palace, even if she was never invited. “If it's the girl, end her and move on.”
With a sigh, I study my old friend. Of the four Reapers, he’s the one I’m the most different from. Until the last couple years, he had a family to rely on. For most of my life I’ve been alone. But I wasn’t tethered to any place in specific, and he’s trapped behind the deadly thorns. We aren’t as close as I am with Raymundo, but we’re closer than any sort of friendship I have with Ban. He’s estranged, off on his own hunt who knows where.
I twist my fingers, watching the shadows twitch from each digit, reaching out towards the space around me. Sitting on the rooftop of a castle might be an adrenaline rush for some, but there's no real joy or fear when the shadows will catch me.
They torture me as much as they protect me. When my beating heart mocked me and reason abandoned me, the shadows sank in. They comforted me, hugged me, and became a part of me before the bitter end.
That’s the first time I saw the shadow man. We all did, a spector who appeared in the moments following our death. There’s no reason and no explanation either. I haven’t figured out how to find him despite the decade that’s passed.
At least I can still see. Of the four of us, I think she tortured him the worst.
“Midas has dealings with Arthur and the Camelot Court,” I continue, pacing along the rooftop. The darkness is starting to surround the city, though it makes no difference to me. No one can see me in the light or dark. If anything, twilight is my favorite time to make the shadows play.
No one sees me except the girl with golden hair. Far too much hair if you ask me. It brushes against the ground when she moves, and I watched the way she bound Arthur with the strands. If she shifted her hair from his forehead to his throat I bet she could strangle the ginger King.
And through the veil, she sees me. I know what that means, and it just makes the princess that much more interesting.
“Midas should’ve died three decades ago,” Lucius grumbles. “He’s cheating death. I thought you were there to investigate that.”
“Aren’t we all cheating death?” I muse, and silence greets me from the other end of the seeing stone. “I think the rumors of the Golden Princess are true. There is a maiden in the castle who can reverse age, but only so far. She turned the grays in Arthur’s hair red again.”
Lucius is silent still. I know he’s thinking what I am. For our long lives, we traded our hearts - literally and this girl is gifting immortality without a second thought.
Not that she looked thrilled to visit the King and Queen of Tressa. I thought the princess was theirs by birth, but she hardly resembles either of them. Maybe she would look more like the Queen if she had the same color hair, but Midas has bits of gold throughout his skin, making it hard to distinguish who he once was.
“Arthur will gamble anything to keep himself young,” Lucius finally replies. “You know this. We all do. That’s why the Round Table is cursed. Now stop obsessing over the girl and kill her if she’s an issue.”
“I’m not sure she is,” I reply, pivoting on the rooftop. For a kingdom hidden behind a wall, it sure is well maintained. Far better than I expected, seeing as travel here is next to impossible. Without my shadows I’m unsure I could slip through the gates. Going back will be easier now that I know the weak points in the wall. Or perhaps I’ll let the shadows carry me back over the wall. “I need to study her.”
“Like the Mad Queen studied us,” Lucius snaps, and I think maybe I crossed the line. I may not chat with my brethren all the time, but anything to do with the Red Woods is a sore subject amongst all of us. “She did a fine job slicing until she was satisfied. Are you planning to dissect the princess?”
I would never be like her. This isn’t an experiment, it’s a study. I want to see how or if the magic affects her when she isn’t using it to bring back youth.
Pressing my lips together, I debate what to say next. Lucius twitches as he waits for my response, tilting his ear towards the phone more than once like he believes he missed something I’ve said.
“I don’t think this girl is anything like the Mad Queen,” I respond finally, stroking my jaw. I saw where she went earlier after leaving the parlor, a guardsman and someone resembling a maid carrying her from the room. I followed along, watching her unconscious form until the guard dropped her on a bed. He backed away as though revolted by her, wiping his hands on his uniform before glaring at the maid and leaving. The girl looked less than enthused when he left her to care for the princess.
“Her name is Rapunzel,” I continue, and Lucius scoffs at the name. “The Golden Princess. I think she breathes life, but if need be, I’ll hasten her death.”
“Good. We can’t let our personal feelings get in the way again. Everything needs to be done to protect Mystica. We can’t fail again.”
I don’t respond, looking towards the sky instead. Mystica never should’ve fallen to ruin the way it did, and visiting the Red Woods is the kind of mistake that starts a war. We’re in the middle of that now, whether or not the people of Tressa know anything about that.
Lucius grumbles a goodbye, and I barely hear him as I wave a hand, letting my shadows close off the looking glass.
This golden city is painted in lies, and it’s a wonder if the people here know about the death beyond the walls, or if it’s simply unimportant because in their day to day lives, it doesn’t affect them.
But if the princess is helping people cheat death, the Reapers will eventually find them. Once her magic wears off, short or long term, there’s no escaping the eyes of a Reaper.
She sleeps rather peacefully for someone playing God. Her hair glows every so often, which is really weird as she slumbers. I’ve used my shadows to flick her hair three times now, but it does nothing to disturb her rest.
Glancing to one side of her room, I watch the peculiar cat she has resting on the windowsill. There are bars locking her in here, but they are wide enough for the cat to come and go. There’s a drop to the slanted roof before it plateau’s, but I guess it doesn’t bother the feline. I’ve observed the creature for several long minutes, and I’m positive it can see me.
Pink and purple stripes… I’ve only known one person who had such a strange style, and he certainly wasn’t a cat. I send wisps of shadow down to caress his fur, watching as he meows contentedly without giving anything away. There’s no way this cat knows anything about the past. Surely if it were some foul being from Wonderland it would detest me.
When she groans in her sleep a little while later, I’m sitting in the rafters of her room, lazily circling the shadows around my fingertips as I watch. She’s rolled enough that the top of her dress is resting dangerously low, which wouldn’t matter if Death wasn’t watching from above.
As much as I need to go and decide what to do with Midas, she’s piqued my attention. The rumors of Tressa are all over the map, and this princess isn’t what I expected at all.
She’s young, although she should be cresting thirty soon, meaning we’re roughly the same mortal age. I might not be aging like the living in Mystica, but she should be twice as old as she looks if the rumors have any merit. I can tell she’s sheltered, but the racy nightgown is a surprise I didn’t see coming.
It’s tight across the chest, and when she stretches she keeps her pretty eyes closed, skating her fingertips up and over a taut breast, peeking the nipple. Without looking, the other hand travels beneath the blanket, and she releases a breathy sigh.
Well, this is more fun than sleeping.
Her breathing picks up, and I relax on the rafter above her bed. She doesn’t show anything I shouldn’t see, like her modesty stays intact even when asleep.
She keeps going for another moment, before her brows scrunch and she stops playing. It’s a strange reaction, but maybe she’s still trapped in sleep. I’m sad to watch the show end.
I wait a moment to see if she does more. When she doesn’t I blow the shadows downward, letting one take the shape of a hand and caress her cheek. She leans into the soft touch, and I laugh quietly beneath my breath, grasping her hair in a different shadowy hand. She still doesn’t react to that, so I shift the shadow to her face.
That makes her startle, and I rip the shadows away as she wakes, sharp eyes snapping open.
She looks with her eyes first, not moving her head. Above her, I can slip back into the dark and remain unseen. As she rubs her eyes she sits up, looking around the room.
“Cheshie,” she grumbles, gesturing to the feline. “Come down from there. Y-you can’t play on the roof at night.”
A yawn escapes, but she kicks her legs off the bed anyway. She paces over to the window, moving to grab the fat, fluffy cat, who meows and jumps out the window.
My eyes widen, jumping up from the rafter, but she blows out a breath and turns back to the bed. Her voice pitches higher. “Silly cat! You’re going to eat too many treats and not be able to jump back in until morning!”
She paces over to a dresser that’s got more paint supplies on it than brushes, and I curiously jump down, the shadows cloaking any noise as I walk to the window. The bars are too close together for her to leave, but the cat fits through fine.
I figured a lonely tower would be further away from the rest of the roof. But if she jumped and had decent balance, she could follow the slope to a plateau a few feet down. She wouldn’t fall off unless she couldn’t control her momentum, and the feline looks at me as he paces across the roof, before hopping through an open window and disappears.
“Hearing bumps in the night,” she grumbles, and I turn once more. She’s brushing at her hair a little violently, glaring at the reflection in her mirror. “Pull yourself together. Princesses don’t make things up.”
I frown. She’s having a whole conversation with herself.
She brushes furiously at her hair, closing those pretty oceanic eyes so she doesn’t see her reflection in the mirror. Curiously, I turn and walk towards her, catching myself in the mirror.
My lip twitches. Mirrors, one of the strangest doorways in life. Not one I know how to cross, but it’s always interesting to see my shadow self reflected back at me.
Licking my lips, I glance around. I know from walking across the rooftops of the castle today that this tower sits higher than anywhere else, but I hadn’t bothered to investigate until now. Midas is my target, not some princess with no social life and glowing hair. Ray might think she’s sinister, but I think she’s just one nut north of the looney bin.
Her eyes stay closed, so I keep glancing around. There’s a map on the wall here, but something is certainly wrong. Since when is Tressa an island? I walked here from the forest, sliding over the walls when I had no other choice with the help of my shadows. It wasn’t easy. Something pushes against Tressa, a force like I’ve never felt before. Getting back out will be even more of a pain, since the protection over Tressa pushes in, not out.
Strange, strange magic.
A scream draws me from my thoughts, and she spins around with the hairbrush in hand. My eyebrows lift at the same time that the door rattles, and we both glance over as it’s thrown open, two guards stumbling in. A younger one tries to straighten his uniform, and the older one looks one step away from stabbing him.
“Princess Rapunzel,” the elder says, glaring around the room. He doesn’t see me, and she continues to stare at me with rage. “We… heard you scream.”
She clears her throat, gripping the handle of the brush with both hands. “Right. Bad dreams. The show in the parlor today really got to me.”
The two men glance at each other, and I can feel their judgment from here. The older man tries again. “Do you need us to go get one of your parents-”
“That’ll be all,” she says, forcing a smile. “Thank you, Theo, Michael.” She nods to them in turn, and they exchange a glance.
“Of course, your majesty,” the old one, Theo, says. Michael doesn’t speak, turning briskly on his heel. There’s a girl waiting in the hall, peeking from behind the door as she tries to smooth down her messy hair.
“Priscilla,” he breathes, but the two disappear too quickly to listen more.
Theo stays a moment, studying Rapunzel. “Are you sure everything is alright?”
Her eyes dart to me and away again, and Theo tracks the movement. “Yes. I just got a little worked up while dreaming.”
He nods slowly. “I will let your parents know today was too much for you.”
“No,” she squeaks. “No, it’s perfectly alright. No need to trouble the King and Queen.”
“But Princess,” he says, his voice turning from concern to mockery, “it’s my job.”
He spins, slamming the door behind him. I listen as bolts slide back into place, effectively locking the princess inside again.
I saw them when I came up to the tower, but I didn’t think it was all that serious. I wanted to observe the setup for Tressa’s golden flower, but they keep her under lock and key.
She growls, turning to slam the brush into the dresser. It’s ornate, and the brush head breaks off, leaving a jagged point. “You, shadow man, you’re going to make me insane.”
Spinning without warning, she charges me. I lift my brows, watching as she charges with determination in her eyes, her long hair flying all around her.
Rapunzel slams into me, the broken point of the brush sliding into my chest. I can’t really feel it, but I watch as the jagged glass pierces my chest, breaking through my tunic and puncturing the skin.
It sinks, deeper than it would on a normal man. The determination in her eyes morphs from anger to surprise to fear as the makeshift shank continues to sink into me.
When her fist touches my chest, I reach out to grip her arm. The fear turns to terror, and the little color she has in her cheeks vanishes. I lean into her space, watching her nose crinkle as she looks between me and the broken stake.
“Princess, you can’t kill Death.”