3 Rapunzel
I stabbed a man.
I’m still stabbing a man.
Why isn’t the man I stabbed bleeding?
His words wash over me, confusing and troubling. His hand is surprisingly warm despite the coldness in his eyes, and it takes several moments to register his words.
“Did… did you say Death?”
He nods, tugging my arm back. I feel the resistance of his skin give, watching in horror as the makeshift stake withdraws from him -
It comes out tipped in black. Not red like blood but black like…
Like shadows.
I yelp, dropping the shard as the black tipped wood vibrates before the inky black lifts off the stake, floating midair. My jaw falls open, watching as the black - as the shadows - morph back into the darkness that surrounds him.
This is no ordinary man. I’m not certain he’s a man at all. Tearing my arm from him, he lets go without a fight. I grip over the spot his hand touched, scrambling back and nearly tripping over my own hair.
He watches wordlessly, those hypnotic red-orange eyes watching my every move. He’s terrifying and interesting at the same time, which means he’s twice as dangerous.
I narrow my eyes, forcing my chin up even when I feel my body starting to tremble. “Leave, or I’ll yell for the guards again.”
“And you think perhaps they will see me this time?” he asks, the deep baritone of his voice washing over me. “Since so many people could see me before?”
I swallow. “Trick of the light. And up here, trick of the dark.”
“Don’t you mean trick of the shadows?”
My back stiffens when he lifts his hand, and that inky blackness dances across his fingertips. It moves almost like flames, fluidly moving from one long finger to the next and back again, smooth like silk and twice as quick as fire.
It’s jarring. What am I supposed to make of a shadow man?
He licks his lips at my silence, and it’s only slightly reassuring to see that the muscle is pink like a regular tongue and not black like his shadows, hair and his mood. “You can scream again if you would like. But no one’s going to think I’m playing games.”
I lift my chin again, but the confidence I want to feel isn’t there. Waking up to a strange man in my room is frightening enough, but this one talks in riddles and bends the darkness to his whim. There’s nothing regular about him.
I suppose there’s nothing regular about me either, but I don’t consider myself dangerous. He’s already shown he’s different once, down in the parlor. Seeing him here in my room is disturbing, especially if the guards can’t see him.
Despite the fear, questions bubble up in my head. He hasn’t threatened or hurt me yet, so maybe if I ask the right question he’ll find me amusing like Midas’ friends and let me go.
It would help if I hadn’t stabbed him but there’s no taking that back now.
I swallow around the nerves. Greeting strangers isn’t a strong suit of mine. As the princess, I only ever speak with guests that the King and Queen deem worthy. I can’t say I have any friends except for Cheshie, and I can’t admit to anyone that my most loyal companion is my cat.
At least not anyone I’m trying to intimidate.
“Are you here for my magic then?” I ask, proud of myself when my voice doesn’t shake. “The gift? You’re wanting some magic for yourself then? Or life, since you claim to be Death.”
He chuckles. “I have magic of my own, Princess, if you haven’t noticed.”
He sweeps his hand out, and the shadows respond instantly. They crawl up to me, caressing my arms and legs, some of the little devils slipping beneath my skirt and slipping up my legs.
I shudder, alarmed that it’s more than pure horror I’m feeling. The last thing I need to do is give this guy any indication that I like having him here. I kick and step backwards, flailing my arms and legs, and he watches for a moment before dragging the shadows back, a few of them climbing high enough up my skirt to make my pussy pulse.
I’m not going to think about why. I just stabbed him.
“Be that as it may, you’re here in my rooms, uninvited.” I make sure to make my point, putting emphasis on his place here in my tower. I’m proud when my voice doesn’t shake, giving nothing away about how his shadowy touch just affected me. “You’re avoiding the King. If there’s something you want you’ll need to speak with him. Threatening me will make no difference. ”
“Midas,” he asks, tilting his head. “Yes, that is technically true. I’ll see the King in due time. When I’m ready for him to see me. There’s no reason for me to threaten the princess right now.”
My eyes narrow. “You speak in riddles.”
He chuckles, brushing some of his deep, thick black hair from his eyes. It still blends with that cloak, which I’m starting to think might be made entirely of shadows. Watching him is bizarre; every time I think I’ve found a spot on him to focus on, it shifts, the shadows within moving and causing my eyes to jump around. “There’s truth in my words. Perhaps one day you’ll understand them.”
“Speak plainly and I will.”
“Well, you are a bit headstrong, aren’t you, Princess?”
I scowl. Headstrong is one of the colorful descriptions Dorah likes to use when there’s company, pretending that my outbursts and my displeasure for seeing guests is just silly. But Dorah turns up her nose when Midas takes matters into his own hands with me, and even if he won’t risk striking me with the golden hand, he’s more than capable of making his point with the other.
“Go about your business, shadow man,” I growl, and he chuckles at my nickname. “I won’t be getting in trouble for you.”
“As I’ve said, no one else can see me. You’ve seen proof of it twice now.”
Unfortunately, he’s right. I shift back on my feet, looking down at the brush shard that’s now clean, signs of inky blackness completely gone.
He mentioned death?
“What are you,” I whisper, staring at him. His shirt doesn’t appear damp, not that I think black blood is really going to show up on black clothing in the dark, and I study the spot I stabbed for several moments. I can’t see a wound at all. Even when I shift a little closer and he twists into the nighttime glow of my window, I see nothing.
“I’m many things,” he says, and we’re back to the riddles. “Forsaken. Damned. Take your pick.”
“You said Death before.”
He chuckles again, nodding as he paces the room. I watch as he observes my lone window more than once, eyeing the bars like he disapproves as much as I do.
But he’s out of my personal space. Without the suffocation of those unnatural shadows, I can breathe again.
“The lands are screaming for help, Princess,” he says, spinning on a heel to study me. He’s across the room, near my paints and books, and for some reason a protective instinct flares up. If he spitefully destroys those it’ll take ages to convince Dorah or Midas that I truly need more. Last time I had to withhold the magic to get replacements after Anastasia spitefully threw handfuls of my paints out the window, and I once punched Priscilla in the head for tearing apart one of my books when a guard thought he had a shot at me over her.
Those sisters… they are always so bitter to me. Of the attendants in the castle, they are two close to my age who I get to see fairly often. But their hatred of me is too deep to ever consider something as simple as friendship.
“Mystica is dying,” he continues, and my gaze snaps back to meet his. I got so distracted for a moment, I almost forgot what we were in the middle of discussing. “And Death is calling.”
“Mystica,” I mutter, glancing at my map. It takes a moment to wrap my head around his words. “What do I care for the troubles of the mainland? Tressa has no reason to deal with your problems.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head, peering between me and the map on my wall several times. “What do you mean the mainland, Princess?”
I jab a finger over my shoulder. “The mainland, of course. Occasionally ships come to port from there. I assume you arrived on a tradeship sometime this past week-”
“No,” he snaps, crossing his arms. “I rushed through the forest and over the wall that hides Tressa. I came here on foot, from the land that hides on the other side of the wall. You must know that Tressa is only a kingdom, not an island nation.”
I stare at him, looking back at my map. Is he that bad at geography? “You must be confused. Mystica can only be reached by ship-”
“Or by passing through the wall,” he interrupts. “Though, Midas has made that a little difficult since he infused the wall with his own powers,”
He’s speaking nonsense. “No. Mystica is the mainland. Tressa is an island. Stop messing with my head.”
“They truly have you under their control,” he says, shaking his head. “You have no idea the lies you’ve been told.”
“They aren’t lies! Mystica is too far for me to travel when the kingdom needs me-”
“Mystica is less than a half day's walk from the castle,” he growls. “Your map misses some key details. Where’s the Red Woods or Thornton Palace? What about the Frostlands? Wonderland? You’re missing great kingdoms on this fake map.”
None of those names mean anything to me. The mainland is too far to travel, and the King would never risk taking me that far outside the palace walls. Going outside the city is simply out of the question, so learning about the other kingdoms never makes it into my lessons. I know a little about Camelot, only because Arthur is our most frequent guest.
“You’re a liar,” I say, pushing his questions away. I don’t know those places, and I won’t get to visit either while my father is still alive.
But he doesn't back down, and maybe I should be more mindful of a man who doesn’t bleed and lets his shadow magic play with me. I clear my throat at his silence, crossing my arms. I won’t back down from this either. He doesn’t belong in the castle and I won’t be made to feel like a fool for not knowing the names of places in the great unknown. “I’m trapped here on the island of Tressa. We all are. Don’t pretend that we could all escape!”
His brow twitches, and I fear I’ve said too much. I can’t divulge the King and Queens worries like that to a stranger, but he’s getting under my skin far too easily.
Escaping my tower is always on my mind. I don’t have any skills outside of the magic cursed into my hair, and as the only person who can wield it, Midas isn’t looking to bid me farewell anytime soon. The fact that the magic fades when it is no longer attached to me makes my abilities that much stranger.
Shadow man breaks his silence, his words cutting right through me. “The only place you’re trapped right now princess is in the confines of your own mind.”
“No, I’m trapped in this tower!”
He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at me. “Fine, Princess. Keep believing their lies. Your ignorance makes no difference to me.”
He does something, I’m not quite sure what, but the shadows wash over him. Maybe it’s to hide him further, but I can still make out all of the same details. He shoots me a wink, and my jaw drops when he literally fades to nothing but shadows, making me gasp.
The shadows dart across the floor of my room, and I almost miss them in the dark. I hurry after the inky blurr, watching as it disappears through the bars of my window. I grasp them, like the prisoner I am, and he suddenly appears on the other side of the window.
Floating. He can float.
“Enjoy the prison, Princess. One lonely tower doesn’t feel like living. Continue buying into their lies, and you’ll forever believe them.”
He’s nothing but shadow again before I can respond, the blackness gliding across the shingles of the roof until it fades from sight. I watch for many moments, trying to make sense of all this.
Who was that man, and why do I want to listen to his tricks?
I didn't see the man again for almost a whole day. No one needs me so no one comes to knock on my door. It’s the suffocating silence I’m used to, although I know Arthur is still in port so this won’t last too long. Usually there’s a goodbye dinner, and I get the joy of sitting through conversations I don’t care about with people who ignore me.
I’ve read through my meager supply of books dozens and dozens of times, but even now as I skim the pages I can find almost nothing on Death.
Well, except the Boogeyman, but he’s more fear and despair than Death. Anything having to do with the afterlife seems to be banned from Tressa. I’ve never seen the topic mentioned anywhere, even in the library when I occasionally get to go look for new books if I’ve been particularly good and helpful. There’s nothing I can find, and it’s beyond frustrating.
I had almost come to believe I imagined him when I saw him again mid-afternoon.
Gasping, I find him sitting at the table in my room, on the opposite side from my bed. The murderous blade he carries is across his back this time, almost like a hatchet with too long of a handle.
He gives me a half smirk, gesturing vaguely to the wall beside him. “Princess.”
“Shadow man,” I breathe. “Do you have a name?”
“I do.” He raises a brow. “Though I haven’t decided if you deserve to know. Death doesn’t give out information freely, you know.”
“If you’re Death, why am I seeing you,” I snap, crossing my arms. His nosy shadows aren’t out to play, and I’m irritated when a spark of disappointment hits me in the chest. “As far as I know, I’m not on my deathbed.”
He cocks his head, watching me. “No. Usually if I’m hidden in the shadows, no one sees me except the spirits. I haven’t encountered a mortal who can see through the veil when I’m cloaked by the shadows.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s a confusing answer.”
He shrugs. “Ask better questions. Like this map, for instance.”
Standing, he slaps the space on the wall. “This is the only map I’ve seen that displays the world this way. Midas put himself at the center, turning a kingdom into a deity of its own. Did you know people on the streets whisper about him, but no one can say much about him. I spent so much time just wandering the streets, trying to gauge what the people think of your King. Want to know what I’ve learned?”
“No,” I growl, looking away from him. I’ve never even meandered through the streets leisurely. Leaving the grounds of the castle is way too much of a risk for my parents to humor. I can’t even get out of the tower most days.
“I learned,” he says, continuing on like I want to listen, “that people hate Midas as much as they fear him. Not that uncommon for a ruler, but they hate on Queen Dorah just as much. Don’t you think, if the people within these walls are looking to rebel that Midas might be willing to bend his truths to keep you in line?”
I scowl. That’s manipulative, cruel and wrong…
Which makes it sound like something my father would do. It makes my skin crawl realizing how quickly this shadow man picked the answer apart. What else does he know?
There’s a harsh rap on the door, slicing through our conversation. My eyes widen, looking between the stranger and my bedroom doors. It’s not as traumatizing as yesterday, when the doors were thrown open, but it sets off alarm bells in my head.
Very few people knock.. “You must go!”
He cocks his head to one side.“I told you, Princess, no one can see me except you.”
I remember the parlor, where Dorah stepped through him and didn’t even notice. Maybe he’s just a figment of my imagination, someone I created for my loneliness. But seeing him this many times has to be real. Else I’ve completely lost my mind.
There’s clanging, and then the door opens before I can respond. I see Dorah standing there, her gown in pristine condition as usual.
“Aruthur is staying for dinner before he leaves this evening,” she snaps, and I know she’s being cordial because of the guards in the hall. If she wanted to dig in and find out what was wrong with me lately, she’d close the doors and be in my face. “Clean yourself up and join us. Or perhaps I need to send for Anastasia to assist you.”
“No,” I say quickly, looking between the Queen and the shadow man. She hasn’t even acknowledged him. I don’t know if he’s hiding behind shadows or if she truly can’t see him in any form. “I can handle it.”
Dining with Arthur is not something I look forward to, but it usually happens before a send off. He’s vying to return sooner and try my gift again. I heard Midas discussing it with one of his advisors earlier in the week. It happens each time. The few people that Midas allows to use my gift typically try to play nice during their visits, hoping for an invite back to the island sooner than later.
And Tressa is an island, no matter what the shadow man says.
Dorah looks over me, but for once she doesn’t give me signs of disapproval. “I assume you can hold yourself together better tonight than you did yesterday?”
I glance at the shadow man again. She really can’t see him?
“Rapunzel!”
I flinch before nodding, forcing myself to stop looking at him. He’s not helping my cause as is. My cat saunters in, and I see Dorah offer another eyeroll before turning to the door.
“Ten minutes and you’ll be escorted to dinner, Rapunzel. Don’t be late.”
I don’t say anything until the doors slam shut again, and familiar sounds of a key turning and locking the doors in place follow. I bend down to collect Cheshie before sparing the man a glance, but when I turn he’s standing halfway across the room.
Scoffing, I nuzzle my kitten with the side of my face, keeping my eyes on the shadow man. My poor cat is rather on the fat side, and as my only companion most days I tend to over-indulge him. He’s barely able to squeeze through the bars on my window some days. “Don’t tell me the Queen scares you too.”
It’s meant to be a joke. People fear Dorah for her wild behavior and ill-temper, and anyone wise should be afraid. She doesn’t get physical with me like Midas occasionally does, but she’s still dangerous.
Shadow man isn’t even looking at me, his eyes locked on Cheshie. There’s terror across his face, maybe like he’s seen a ghost, and those red-orange eyes of his flash, his lip curling.
I turn, hiding my cat from view. “Don’t you dare. Have words with me but keep Cheshie out of this.”
“ Cheshie? ”
“Yes, he’s a Cheshire cat. A friendly one when you don’t glare at him.” I narrow my eyes, stroking Cheshie’s unique fur to keep myself calm. “This is his room too. He’s been my cat for years and you aren’t going to scare him off by glaring. I don’t know how you keep hiding in plain sight, but make yourself scarce when I go to dinner. Don’t hurt my cat, shadow man.”
He glares down at my feline, who lazily looks back. “Trust me, Princess. I wouldn’t dare harm Cheshie .”
With that he pivots on his heel, and part of me is disappointed he’s already through with this. I narrow my eyes, watching as he approaches the barred window and wonder what his angle is.
When he reaches it, he peers back at me. “We’ll see each other soon.”
He tumbles backward, maneuvering through the bars like they aren’t even there and slipping from my room in a single breath. Yesterday taught me that falling isn't a fear of his. For a moment he was a man with the shadows stalking him, and now he is the shadows.
Disappointment and jealousy shoot through me. Clenching Cheshie to my chest I dart to the window, looking out to see if I can spot him in the fading light.
A blur of shadows flies across the sky, and it’s the only sign I see of him. My heart aches watching the stranger leave, our time together abruptly cut to an end.
Despite myself, I can’t stop my thoughts as I stare off into the emptiness once more, the city mocking me from beyond the walls of this tower.
Take me with you.