5 Zarev
She’s spitting mad. Kneeling on the floor, I half expect her to break down crying. But instead she snaps her head upward, eyes wild with rage.
I quirk a brow, watching the torrent of emotions flash across her face. This is a different girl than a few days ago.
“You’ve gone and made her mad,” she says breathlessly, her eyes focused on nothing but me as she wipes her palms on her skirts and stands. “She’ll tell the King I’m not cooperating.”
“Sounds like she doesn’t want you to speak out, Princess.”
Rapunzel glares, before her hands reach up and begin to twist through her thick locks. “I don’t like to make the royals angry.”
Frowning, I pace in a semi circle around her. It puts me closer to her door, and although I can use the shadows to slide out the window since this door is sealed from floor to ceiling, I stay on that side of the room. Those tormented oceanic eyes track my movements, twisting her hair more and more until she’s holding giant fistfuls. “Nervous tic?”
She doesn’t follow what I’m saying until I nod to her hands. Scoffing, she shakes her head. “Hardly. My magic is a part of me. When I stress, the healing magic… helps.”
“And how does the daughter of a man of gold and a harpy turn out to have magic hair?”
Rapunzel shrugs. “Dorah isn’t a harpy, that’s a rumor. She simply acts like one. And Midas got his curse by asking the god Dionysus for the golden touch. I don’t know how that translates down the line to me.”
I frown. Dionysus, much like any of the gods and goddesses who no longer grace us with their presence, is a myth at best. “Is this well known around Tressa?”
“I have no idea. Can’t say I speak with the people very much.”
She has a point, and although I’ve heard plenty of rumors of a Golden King, I’ve never put much thought into his power. It’s something he now uses to torment, so I’m not all that interested in the origins most of the time. “Go on.”
Rapunzel has a touch of gold in her, but it doesn’t turn anyone into anything terrible. If anything, it does the opposite.
She glares at me. “Why should I? You’ve made my mother cross with me and now I’m banished to my rooms.”
“Well, the Queen believes you’re isolated and alone.” I point to myself. “She has no idea you’re in such good company.”
Scoffing, Rapunzel lets go of her long locks and paces to the window. There’s a window seat beneath that I’ve not paid a lot of attention to, mostly because it looks fit for a child at best. She sits on the edge, looking closer to hovering than relaxing, and glares out the window.
“Before I grew up, they used to let me play in the castle. When I was still a child. They weren’t as strict in the beginning, but as I grew older and bolder and more curious they locked me in my tower.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I wanted to know about my so-called gift. Midas and Dorah never talk about my birth, and I can’t remember a time they allowed me down to their chambers. Even the guards are limited there, and anyone who gets close to Midas has to get past his golden touch.”
I nod along. It’s nothing I didn’t already know.
“When I was eight, maybe nine…” her voice trails off, and she grabs at a length of hair to pull at the strands. “I can’t remember. The time blurs together. When I was very young Midas used my gift to make amends with a Queen from far away. She only visited once and she didn’t make her presence known. I thought it was kind of peculiar since most visitors want people to know they are in the city.”
“She was terrifying,” Rapunzel goes on, her gaze shifting far away. She’s lost somewhere in a memory, one I can’t see. “She had these blood red eyes and gemstone hearts ground into her teeth-”
I catch my breath, a mental image forming in my head that I can’t escape. Rapunzel glances at me, curiosity peppering her gaze, but I shake my head and gesture for her to continue.
She’s met the Queen?
“I… I didn’t get the Queen’s name,” Rapunzel continues, her narrowed eyes staying fixed on me. “She was terrifying and never wanted to speak to me directly. The second night she was here, her cat ran away and got lost in the castle. That’s Cheshie. That’s how I got him.”
That explains a lot.
“The Queen needed a lot of magic, and I had to spend more than an hour with her during my visit. Usually my magic works over a few minutes, and I’ve gotten much better since then.” There’s pride in her voice, as though the Queen was her first challenge. “She was so frightening to look at. Her eyes… I’ve never seen anything like them.”
Red eyes flash through my head. If we’re thinking of the same Queen, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“That’s the first time my mother insisted that I drink the tea,” she continues. “I needed to be in control of my emotions and able to focus on my task. The tea calmed me. She used to give it to me once a month, calling it tea time, but sometimes it’s more frequent if we’re having guests.” She shrugs, and I wonder if she sees what I see. “Now it’s our ritual. It’s the only thing she visits me for here, unless she needs to speak with me about a guest before they arrive. Why did you ruin that for me?”
“You’ve never wondered why she visits and you feel different afterwards?” It’s a shot in the dark, but with her reaction to the tea spilling there’s no way there isn’t something in the tea that affects her.
“No.” Frowning, Rapunzel turns her gaze back to me. “It’s when we bond. It’s the only time we bond. She brings me the tea so I can be at my best.”
Trauma bond maybe.
“Rapunzel,” I say slowly, crossing my arms, “I think whatever Dorah uses to brew your tea is used to control you. She wants you to stay compliant and docile.”
She scowls, standing again. “That’s not it. My magic makes me manic. I need it to stay in control.”
Manic? Looking around the room, the only thing manic about her is the amount of painting she does, and that looks like a hobby born out of necessity. She talks to herself, but no one else seems to want to talk to her, so there aren’t many other options. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why stay in control? If your gift is life, what is the worst that can happen?”
She bites her lip, and I get the feeling she has no real answers. When she helped King Arthur, she reversed his age by a year or two at best. She’d have to shave off decades to do any true damage, and I don’t think aging anyone is within her realm of power. So far there’s been no hints that it is.
“I’ve never let it get out of control,” she replies, lifting her chin. Her hands released her hair already, but she balls them up again like she’s fighting to repeat it. “And since escaping the tower is moot by now, I never act out. There’s so little freedom here I don’t want to risk the few liberties I have.”
Now she just sounds like her mother.
“Where do you think your gift came from?” I prod, refusing to drop this as I start circling her again. I think the princess knows more about what’s going on around here than she’d like to admit.
“I don’t really know,” she breathes. “When I met the Queen, she mentioned flowers. But I’ve looked up flowers in the books I can find for years since her visit, and I never really figured out what she was talking about. She didn’t look like the flowery sort. I mean, even the hearts studded on her teeth didn’t make much sense. She looked… gloomy. Angry. But not like someone who would appreciate flowers.”
Rapunzel is right. The Mad Queen doesn’t like anything beautiful like that. She liked roses once upon a time, but only when they were soaked in blood. But what she’s telling me makes no sense, and doesn’t help me figure out what’s going on in this castle.
“Tell me about your gift,” I prod, switching gears. It’s a part of her. She has to know something.
She scoffs. “You’ve seen it since you barged into the parlor. The magic in my hair helps to reverse age.”
“And you need a chant for that.”
“It’s a rhyme,” she says, shaking her head. “And it’s what Midas told me to do. I use it every time someone works with the King and he needs to make a deal.”
“So you’re his bargaining chip.”
She shrugs, gesturing around us. “Midas can turn anything to gold, people included. When there’s an overabundance of something the value drops to nothing. Gold is nearly worthless in Tressa. The King puts weight behind it but the citizens and the workers in the castle abhor it. He barters with me because his golden touch is just as much a curse as a gift.”
“Funny, since Midas prides his touch as power.”
“You speak like you know my father.”
I shrug. “Where I come from, King Midas is a fearsome adversary. That wall? It keeps people out as much as it traps people inside. It’s a barrier that keeps the rest of the forest out.”
“I told you-”
“Rapunzel, this isn’t an island. You’re letting your parents trick you into believing something that isn’t real. They want you to think that even if you get out, there’s no escape.”
“Prove it,” she growls, and that sounds like a damn risky idea on her part. “You say this isn’t the island home I’ve always believed it to be. You claim that the wall keeps us separated from Mystica, which is thousands of miles from here. People travel far and wide to visit Tressa and be blessed by the Golden Touch or a bit of youth. If we were close to the other Kingdoms-”
“Then Midas would want to make it as difficult as possible for someone to breach the city and steal away the golden princess.”
She pauses, pursing her lips. Whether or not she likes what I’m saying, there’s weight to the words. Her father keeps her locked in this tower while her mother plays at manipulation and tricks to keep her in line. Why do they fear a daughter who they repress so much?
“Prove it,” she says again, her voice wobbly. “You sound like a madman, breaking into this castle. Or you could be some nightmare I’ve dreamed up in my loneliness! Prove that Tressa isn’t the island home I’ve always known and maybe I’ll believe you.”
“How would you like to do that, Princess?”
She frowns, pursing her lips. I might be not visible to the naked eye, but she most certainly is. Someone will notice her wandering the halls. “We’d have to get out of the room.”
“Yes. Staying in here won’t convince you of anything.”
She chews her lip. “I don’t know how to get out. Father made certain the room is secure so that no one can steal me from the castle.”
I eye the bars. “They’re ensuring you don’t escape as well.”
“That isn’t helping me, shadow boy.” She cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at me. “I still don't know your name.”
Smirking, I shift past her. The light is all but gone from the sky, and it gets my mind spinning. “I didn’t give it, Princess.”
“Well, you should now. We’ve talked long enough knowing your name seems appropriate.”
“Names carry weight,” I continue, leaning against the wall. “Power. I’m not gifting you power over me just because you're curious.”
She throws out her hands. “And what would I even do with that knowledge? Do you want some youth back, shadow man?”
I frown. “That’s irrelevant now, Princess. Youth is meaningless in death.”
Rapunzel frowns, and I’m certain she’s trying to make sense of things. I turn and stare out the window again, an idea forming as I look out at the sloping roofs.
I need to know if my target is really the princess, or the puppeteer pulling her strings. “I’m here in Tressa to find out why the people here die so slowly, Princess. I get the feeling you are to blame. There are dead here, there must be. People of all ages wander the streets. So where are your dead hiding?”
Looking back, she’s more troubled than before. “I have no idea. Maybe our barriers promote long life? I only share my magic with the King and Queen, and whoever they deem worthy when I’m brought into a meeting.”
That’s the problem. It doesn’t make sense. If anything, with Midas' relentless reign, people should be passing through the veil more often than not. Flexing my hands, I watch a few wisps of shadows lift from my hands.
“The… scars. Those cuts in your hands. What are those?”
So curious for someone who should be cautious. But I don’t say it out loud. Glancing down at my hands, I study the spades that are carved and faded, inked in later when I needed something to block out the scarring. The slice straight through the designs on the backs of my hands, making it seem like it’s there to cut through the picture. But it’s just another memory in a long line of pain.
Instead I fix my gaze on her again, assessing my options. I won’t kill someone innocent. I won’t claim this princess is the brains behind whatever Midas is up to. She might be powerful, but she’s a pawn at this point. She doesn’t know anything about the world around her, much less what her father’s end game is. Her world doesn’t reach outside these four walls.
“Would you stop using your gift if I requested it?” I ask, studying her. “Just to see what would happen?”
“I don’t know why that would matter,” she says, frowning again. At this point I’ll put worry lines on that pretty face. “I only ever see one person at a time. That’s hardly going to be the reason why people die at a slower rate in Tressa.”
Or not at all. “Princess, when one person’s fate is changed, it can change everything. One altercation can shift fate’s design and create a new future. You could be inadvertently causing things to spiral.”
Her eyes widen, and I doubt she’s ever considered it that way before. In her eyes she’s doing the King a favor, albeit one she has no say in. She wouldn’t consider how it spirals outwards from the individual that she speaks with.
If anything, she probably assumes that her place in all this is nothing of importance. But I don’t think the princess realizes how powerful she could be.
I look out the window again. “If I give you a peek of what’s beyond the wall, will you listen to me?”
Her breath catches. “You can get outside of the walls? Without a ship?”
I don’t bother correcting her this time. “I didn’t say we’d leave the Kingdom. I don’t need to start a war for stealing the princess, and we don’t have that much time as is. But I can show you there’s truth to my words.”
“How?”
Glancing back, I smirk. “With the trees. An ocean is flat and endless. The forest might go on forever, but the wind moves the trees in the distance. And from one of the highest points on the castle roof, you can see over the wall.”
Her face loses some color. “You want to… climb the roof?”
“Don’t tell me you stayed put all these years?” I ask, reaching out to smack the bars across her window. “Someone thought you might be willing to risk life and limb to get out of here.”
“The bars could be for protection.” But her voice wobbles, and I don’t believe her.
“You keep lying to yourself if you want to, but the truth is there if you’re willing to look.” I nod to the window once more. “I’ll take you outside for a bit to show you that the King and Queen lie. I doubt anyone is watching the roof by your bedroom when it should be impossible to leave. I’ll bring you back when we’re finished.”
Some sadness leaks into her eyes, and I’m sure faced with the idea of freedom she’s wary of coming back into her prison of a room. “I don’t think I trust a near stranger to not throw me off the roof.”
This time I do laugh. She isn’t asking the right questions, like how we’ll get out there in the first place. “Princess, if I meant to do you harm, I would’ve by now. No else can see me, remember? I could turn you mad in a matter of minutes and even the King and Queen wouldn’t be able to ignore your sickness.”
Her eyes widen. I’ve already shown I can interact with her even if others can’t see me. Her hands move to grasp the sides of her dress, dropping my gaze, and I know she’s thinking of my trick with the shadows.
Slowly, she steps up beside the window with me. There’s no reason to trust me, especially not with my shadow tricks playing games with her. After a moment she lifts her chin, glaring up at me. “I’ll humor you, shadow man. On one condition.”
“And what is that, Princess?”
She purses her lips. “Your name. I can’t trust you to not throw me to my death if you can’t even give me a name.”
I suppose she has a point. And even if I give it to her… who will she tell who believes her? “You’ll come outside with me?”
“If you have some magical way to get past the bars, then I suppose so.”
“Of course I do,” I chuckle, holding up my hand again. The shadows twist and spin in the lighting of her room, the moon distantly outlining them as they float to the ceiling. More time passed than I thought, and in the early twilight the moon’s crescent shape peeks through at us.
Her eyes round, and I can tell she’s second guessing things. I’m not even sure which way I want this to go at this point. Challenging her is turning into too much fun, and I can get in trouble for that. “Name?”
She’s never going to tell anyone anyway.
I nod to the window. “Braid your hair, Princess. Can’t have you slipping on that and falling off the roof.”
“ Name ?”
Slowly, I smile at her. “Zarev.”