11 Rapunzel
We make it just past the treeline before Zarev passes out. He promises to help me soon, but he’s sweating and needs to rest before we travel. I protest as much as I can, but he succumbs to sleep after only a few minutes.
Tucking my chin to my knees, I sit in a stiff ball and wait for Death to find me. We ran out of Tressa with nothing, and after kicking off the painful shoes that made me bleed, all I can do is stare into the darkness.
I don’t know how to survive out here. I’m directionally challenged and I don’t know what I should be looking for. Zarev is too heavy to drag, so I have to wait for him to wake up.
Counting doesn’t help. I’m either going too fast or too slow, and after a few minutes I give up tracking the time before looking down at him. I can make out his outline pretty well now in the dark.
Please wake up. Wake up and tell me what we need to do next. I’m not sure where to go from here.
Being in a forest is… terrifying. I’ve never spent this much time outside of the castle, and although the fresh air is nice it’s something of a nightmare to imagine how much space is around me. Even if my tower was confining, it was mine, and before Zarev showed up I knew exactly what lurked in the dark corners of the room.
Briefly, my heart aches for Cheshie again. I don’t know if I will ever see my faithful feline again, but at least he’s a resourceful cat. The times he didn’t return to my room I never worried for his safety, and no matter how many people despise me in the castle most of the residents like him.
When Zarev still isn’t awake sometime later, and the moon’s shifted in the sky, I begin to pace. My ankles and the tops of my feet ache, but it’s nothing compared to the pain in my arms or the incessant pounding in my head. This is a different type of suffocating silence than the quiet I knew in the tower.
“What am I doing out here,” I mutter, and it doesn’t escape me that talking to myself is probably a bad sign. “Why did I let this man ruin my life?”
Pursing my lips, I almost want to argue with myself. Ruined is a bit of an exaggeration when I didn’t get the chance to live up to now. Zarev opened my eyes to things I’ve never imagined, and now I’m in the midst of it.
My map of Tressa is insufficient to the real world. Midas made himself more important than anything else, acting as though the world centers around him. If I were being honest, Tressa pretty much does.
I know nothing about the continent - Mystica , the land I’m standing in now. This forest and everything beyond is something I should’ve studied, but mother and father made it sound so far off that I never worried about it. To learn that there is a whole world on the other side of the wall is mind boggling, and I don’t know what to do now when my world isn’t limited.
“You’re still with him, girl.”
I scream before slapping a hand over my mouth. My arms whine in protest, and something’s poking from the skin, but I cannot see anything and I don’t want to try and blindly pull things out in the dark. I’ve always been a bit of a wuss when it comes to the pain, and whatever is stuck in my skin pulls and hurts when I try to remove it.
Turning towards the voice, I recognize who the voice emanates from and try to quell my displeasure. “Modred.”
“The very same,” he grumbles, his form so see-through now it’s unsettling. He died, and now I suppose this is what’s left. He’s still the same, with a pudgy middle and eyes that are looking for secrets. Even in death he gives me the creeps. “Thanks for murdering me, little princess.”
I frown. Modred is a mystery to me. My time with Arthur was brief, and mother and father never spoke of any family members of his. Arthur is someone Midas holds at an arm's length, an adversary that he kept happy with my magic but had very little control over. So meeting Modred when the Camelot King should be long gone was jarring, but I can’t say I had any idea he’d be so strange. Swallowing, I try to find the right words to say to someone who’s died. “I’m… sorry. It was an accident. But you pushed for more than I could give.”
“Wouldn’t is more like it,” he replies dryly, before glancing at Zaev. I wonder if he can see better in the dark than I can. Could a spirit hurt me? “Wake him.”
“I’ve tried. He’s sleeping now. He got injured back there and his body needs time to recover. He doesn’t wake up when I try, so he’s not going to until he’s ready.”
Modred scoffs, and I realize he’s just as insufferable in death as he was in life. “Something drew me here. I’m assuming it’s him. Wake the man, Princess, so I can be on my way. Whatever this in between thing is, I’m not a fan. He’s Death, or … something. That monster will know what to do.”
I purse my lips, my mind flickering to those shadows of his. Does controlling the darkness make him more of a monster than a man? I shake my head, my hands trembling when I ask the next question. “You realize you are dead?”
“Yes, a snivelly little princess killed me.”
“I’m not that little,” I snap, glancing down at the ground. Truth be told, I still don’t know exactly how to tell my age. I counted years by the celebrations when I crested eighteen into full adulthood, but I don’t know what’s happened in the years since. Timeline wise, I’m thirty or so, which makes me an old, unmarried maid in these lands. But physically I still feel like I’m in my twenties, and appearance-wise it’s almost impossible to tell. My face retained youth while my body matured, my hair endlessly growing and my gift keeping any lines from forming on my face. It almost makes me wish that I could see them, so that I know the passage of time is real. All the times I’ve used my magic made things unclear, and Midas is the only king to sit on the throne of Tressa in…
I blink. I can’t think of another King. History isn’t a big deal in Tressa. That was never part of my studies. We value the here and now, and that’s Midas. A cruel, unforgiving King, but someone who kept adversaries out of our lands until recently.
Then again, I think he’s got most of the Kingdom believing we live on an island. Or perhaps it’s just me he tricked.
“Just wake the demon, Princess,” Modred snips, crossing his arms as he pulls me from my jumbled mind. He’s oddly clear in the dark, possibly because the outline of his form is such a different color from the stark night. “Figure out what to do with me and I’ll be on my way.”
He twitches, his neck rolling back as he finishes speaking, and when it twists back his eyes roll and make me gasp. It only lasts a moment before Modred shakes his head and the evil in his dead eyes is gone. He straightens his neck out again, bent unnaturally far back, and looks at me as he shakes his head.
He blinks, and it’s like nothing ever happened. I swallow, reminding myself that whether or not I can see this man, Modred is dead. He should be long gone, out of sight, and even if his soul is angry I shouldn’t even be able to see him.
My skin crawls, and I shove back the nerves. Zarev is still unconscious, so getting worked up over something I can’t control nor fix does me no good. The more creeped out I allow myself to get, the harder it will be to calm down later. If I panic, who’s going to help? Modred certainly isn’t interested in my comfort.
I swallow again and sink down to my knees. Grabbing his shoulder, I give Zarev a shake. “Please…”
He doesn’t stir, which probably isn’t a good sign. I glance down at his chest, where the gold is dimmed but still clearly there. I don’t know how to tend to someone’s wounds, and fingering my hair I can only imagine what might happen if I tried to do something and made it worse.
“Why don’t you use the hair,” Modred asks, impatience coloring his voice.
“ My hair,” I deadpan, glancing back and the ghostly presence. “My hair reverses age-”
“From what Arthur said, it reverses time. Heal the wounds and get him up so we can be done with this.”
I stare at Modred. I don’t know why he isn’t trying to harm me but he sure is anxious to be away from us. So long as he doesn’t give me that possessed look again I think I can tolerate him. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
He blows out a breath. “I tried to go somewhere else. Talking to Arthur is useless like this, and your father is just as dim. I’m drawn to that man,” his ghostly eyes flicked to Zarev, “and I’m pretty sure whatever he told you is true.”
My brows knit together. I really want to dig into what Arthur told Modred about me, but right now I’m too paranoid to focus. We should be running away from the wall after breaking free of Tressa, not sitting a couple hundred feet from the perimeter with a man collapsed and embedded in gold.
Lifting my chin, I try not to let Modred see how unnerved I am. “What do you think he told me?”
Modred looks unamused, shaking his head at me. “He’s Death, isn’t he? He’s the only one aside from you that can see me like this, and he carries that curved blade. Even wears the dark clothes and he was invisible until those shadows disappeared in the dining hall. The cloak, the blade, the hiding in plain sight? Don’t you know anything about the legends, girl? He’s Death, and I hope he kills you to avenge me.”
I just glare at him. As much as Zarev might be annoyed with the situation we’re in, I seriously doubt the man would kill me. He had plenty of options to do that before now, and he wouldn’t waste the effort to bring me outside of Tressa if he just planned on ending me.
Moaning, Modred drifts off and mutters to himself. His ghostly form fades in and out in the trees around us, making my skin tingle again. Refusing to acknowledge him, I study Zarev before tugging at my hair, wondering if Modred’s shifty little mind is right. Maybe I could heal just like I de-age. I never tried that before, and neither Dorah nor Midas asked me to. I don’t know if they never speculated my magic could reach that far, or if they didn’t want to know.
Shaking Zarev again, he finally groans. That’s good, as it’s the only sign of life I’ve seen since he passed out. I continue to shake him, hoping I can maybe annoy him awake, and it finally works.
When his eyes pop open, it's that unnatural red-orange that greets me. I’ve gotten familiar with the color, and it’s a relief to see his eyes open again after he’s been asleep for however long. My nerves settle for a moment, before those keen, dangerous eyes narrow and he shoves me hard in the chest, shadows spilling from his fingertips.
I gasp when they wrap around me, the strength of his power grabbing onto each of my limbs and throwing me backwards into the first. I cry out on impact, the pain shooting up my spine and reigniting over the sores in my arms.
My eyes widen, realizing how dim I’ve been. I’m trusting this man of shadows and death, in a land I know nothing about.
Zarev is quick, and I hear him shift around before he’s kneeling over me. His eyes are more orange than red this time, a contrast to his dark clothes and the black blood dampening his shirt. He snarls down at me, almost invisible in the dark until he flashes his teeth.
They catch the moonlight, long and white in the night. They look pointed, and I pant as two rows of wolf-sharp teeth stare down at me, a growl crawling up his throat as he glares down at me.
The shadows twist around my arms, one moving to my throat and I gasp at the pressure over my jugular, making my eyes bulge. He snarls down at me, leaning in, and when his tongue drags over my pulse I feel more than simply fear shoot through me.
And it’s confusing as hell.
“Z-Zarev,” I gasp, one of his real hands grabbing my dress. I feel him grasping the neckline, and it would take him one sharp tug to break the skin tight binding. I’m less worried about what he might do to my body and more concerned about what those teeth might do to my skin.
This is a side I didn’t know existed. He’s the shadow man to me, made of darkness and death. Not this monster who wields the dark and snarls down at me like a half-crazed wolf.
His eyes look possessed, and I don’t know what else to do like this. When he leans close again I snap my head forward, some of my hair whipping with the motion, and it sounds like a whip snapping in the night.
It strikes him in a moment where I can’t see, and he grunts. I’m lost beneath the veil of hair, certain that my true death waits on the other side.
I foolishly trusted the monster masquerading as a man, and he’s going to kill me for it.
Zarev grunts, then his hands shove at my hair and I scream. He clamps a hand over my mouth, my eyes welling with tears when I manage to see him again.
The bloodlust from a moment ago is gone, his face impassive. His eyes are less orange again, more orange-red, and when he lets out a breath I can see that his teeth have returned to normal.
It doesn’t stop my limbs from shaking. I thought he was Death, which is extraordinary enough, but there’s more to him. There’s a monster hiding beneath the cloak, one that might be more terrifying than the scythe-wielding Reaper.
“O-oh, you’re awake,” I say, feigning a smile. I’m not sure how much he can see in the dark, but between the moonlight and his sharp eyes he can see enough. He slowly lets go of me, my heart pounding as his shadows loosen, then slowly slip off of me. The hand gripping the front of my dress lingers the longest, and for a moment I think he’s going to really snap and tear it open.
Instead, he blows out a harsh breath and throws himself backward into the dirt again. He groans, and I lose sight of him as I stare up at the stars.
This is the man I decided to run away from home with. Someone who can snap at any given moment and tear me to pieces.
I know I’m a glutton for punishment, because the idea doesn’t scare me as much as it needs to. The idea of trekking back to Tressa to be locked up in the tower again is more frightening than admitting that Zarev is dangerous.
At least out here, in lands entirely unknown, I can breathe real air and feel dirt and grass and leaves.
Sitting up with a wince, feeling how sore I am from being thrown into the hard ground. I didn’t consider it a moment ago, but my shoulder blades ache, and the impression of his shadowy hands on my skin lingers almost as much as his touch against my chest. I brush back my hair, eyeing him across from me.
Zarev looks… the same. He grunts and sits up, his hands shifting to his chest where the gold is sticking out. It makes him a little easier to see when he isn’t leaning over me considering my death. He prods at the spots in his chest, his brow knitting in concentration. I watch as he tilts his chin, picking at the embedded gold, my eyes widening when I see his chin.
It looks like someone struck him with a whip with tails - I know I heard the guards joking about that once, but I have no idea what it’s called. There are many small marks across his skin, some not bleeding but irritated all the same
Blinking, I reach down and grip my hair, sliding my fingers through it until I come to the stained ends. It looks like I dipped them in ink. It’s only a small portion of my hair, but it’s stained all the same.
I did that. Somehow… my hair did it. I knew it was stronger than average because of all the magic, but I’ve never tested it out. I had no idea if I threw it like that I could inflict pain on someone.
Zarev is oblivious to it, flicking at the gold in his chest before he grunts, and I watch as he drags a blade out with his opposite hand and moves to stab it into his chest. “No - careful! You’re hurt. You aren’t supposed to make it worse.”
He narrows his eyes at me, glancing from my head to my bleeding feet. I look down, suddenly self-conscious for some reason. He’s the one that freaked out when he woke up and lunged at me.
A beat passes, and I almost think he’s not going to bother speaking to me. “Magic gold hurts,” he mutters, his voice sounding dry and pained. “Leaving it in isn’t ideal either.”
Unbidden, guilt washes through me. The goal was never to get Zarev injured, especially when I hardly know the man. I try to remind myself that a moment ago he looked torn between killing me and eating me, so he’s not so innocent in this either.
But Midas was angry with me in the dining hall for killing Modred, not anyone else. His attacks were for me until Zarev intervened, and had he not distractedly tried to keep an eye on me while I panicked there’s a good chance we wouldn’t be in this mess.
I sit back on the ground, immediately wrapping my arms around my knees. It’s time to get a grip and figure out what to do next. Zarev seems okay for now, but I’ll be on my guard in case he tries something shady again. I’ll worry about what’s going on with my hair and hands later. At least those aren’t a danger to me.
Zarev heaves a sigh, giving up on the gold in his skin. I bite my lip, resisting the urge to mention Modred’s insane idea as he stands. I don’t even see the spirit at the moment, and I’m not even sure if healing is in my arsenal of available abilities. “How long did I rest?”
“I’m not sure. Uh, the moon’s moved across the sky. It’s much farther west than before.”
He grunts, which isn’t much of an answer. Slowly his hand moves up, massaging over the skin I’m sure is screaming in pain. He’s actively avoiding talking about what happened a moment ago, and I’m too tense to bring it up either. “No one came by?”
“Well…” My voice trails off and I look around, but still no Modred. I guess he went off to mope alone.
Zarev reaches for something else in his cloak, and in the next moment he’s holding a small glass vial that glows. I lean in, awed by the strange light. “It’s fairy dust. Traded for it with some lad who came over from Neverland.”
He’s mentioned that place before. Something to do with the stars. I would comment, but in the dim light I can see how tired his face looks, and how dark his chest is. I’d rather not poke the beast anymore.
It’s damp, and there’s inky blackness all across his shirt. I research out without thinking and skim my fingers through it, but he bats my hand away. He’s still bleeding, perhaps not as bad but it still isn't a good thing. “You got hurt.”
His eyes narrow. “As did you. Show me your arms.”
I tense, unsure if I really want him in my personal space again. “It’s nothing-”
“Rapunzel, I cannot handle any more excuses tonight. Let me see your arms.”
I curl my lip, ready to snap back at him for pinning me to the ground with his shadows. But some confused, possibly twisted part of me really enjoyed the show of power, and it makes my mind wonder what else he could do to me when he lets his full powers out. I keep my arms close as I consider this, Zarev narrowing his eyes in impatience. After a moment I give in, partially from pain and partially because I’m not sure what to do about it. I hold both arms out to him, waiting for him to scoff at my weakness for how superficial the wounds probably are. I mean, I barely registered them when I was pinned to the ground.
Zarev’s arm snaps out, dragging me closer, ratcheting up my tension. He’s still for a moment before brushing his fingers over the swollen flesh. I whimper, and wonder why his pain tolerance is so much greater than my own.
He hisses as his finger moves, turning my aching arm over before he glances up at me. “There’s some sort of spike in your skin.”
I blink, looking down. I’ve barely thought about it since we jumped over the wall, and definitely not when Zarev lunged. Before I can respond, that annoying voice interrupts, letting me know my first victim is back. “Griffin spines actually, if it matters to you.”
We both turn, and there’s Modred floating nearby, watching. His abnormal appearance makes my skin crawl, but Zarev looks unaffected by his presence. It only makes me feel marginally better that the Reaper is awake this time.
Zarev shakes his head, unimpressed. “Away, spirit. When I’m a little better I’ll guide you. I can’t send you on with my magic this depleted.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Modred snaps, crossing his arms. He manages to look sullen despite the fact that I can see through him. It’s not the creepy twisting head from earlier, but I swear his eyes are more hollow looking than they were hours ago when he was alive. “Fix this.”
“There’s no fixing things,” Zarev replies, setting down the little glowing container beside us in the dirt. I watch the glowing dust inside move around in lazy circles, unable to keep from wondering exactly what pixie dust is. “You are dead. You need help passing on so your spirit can rest. I won’t make you wait long. We don’t want your soul twisting into something ugly. If your soul is damned and you try to stay in the realm of the living, when you are reaped you’ll disappear forever. There is no Beyond if a Reaper has to end you.”
I turn to stare up at him. The more he talks, the more confused I feel. Being outside the walls of Tressa makes me feel like I know less and less about the rest of the world.
Modred growls, but he’s far less fearsome looking when he’s against Zarev. “The only reason I died is because this witch killed me.”
“You died because you pushed her too far.” His gaze flickers up to me, and I bite my lip before I can argue. I don’t know how or why I killed Modred, but thinking about it makes my chest tighten and panic set in. We can’t afford that now. I don’t feel as guilty as I should, but perhaps that’s because he was a wretched man in life. “You’ll remain in limbo until you pass on and your spirit is at peace. I cannot do that in my current state, and the princess and I need to be somewhere further from Tressa before I attempt that. The dead never rise in this kingdom, yet your spirit had no trouble finding me.”
“Because I saw the two of you fleeing from the castle,” Modred grumbles.
Zarev simply shrugs, pressing a hand to his chest again. “You don’t have a choice. Your soul will follow me because Death is calling it home. If I wasn’t injured I could send you on now, but I don’t have the energy to waste.”
He stands then, heaving as he stumbles to his feet and presses his hand back to his chest once more. His skin is ashen, and his eyes are not as vibrant as before when he lunged at me. He clumsily grabs for the scythe, and I don’t remember seeing him replace the sickled, smaller blade before he stood back up. “We need to move. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is that someone will spot us. The walls of Tressa might be impenetrable, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t draw attention.”
I bite my lip, the first waves of uncertainty crashing through me. I know that once Midas cannot locate us in the castle he’ll extend his search. Even if he’s mad at me about Modred, I’m an important asset to his reign. He needs me to keep alliances going and his own youth intact.
There would be bodies and bones burnt to ash. But Midas will not be satisfied until he knows exactly where we are, and how we escaped from the kingdom.
Zarev grasps my wrist in one hand, his scythe in the other. The pixie dust is balanced in his grip and he shoves it towards me. “We need to find cover and then figure out what we can use to heal in the meantime. It’s not something I’m skilled with.” His eyes skate towards me, a question resting in them. “Your magic doesn’t heal, it only returns youth?”
I shrug. “I’ve never tried anything else.”
“Right,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “This isn’t the place to test things out. Do you have the energy to run with me, Princess?”
I wince. “You can’t do that shadow trick again? The one that flew us over the wall?”
“No. I used too much magic back in the castle. And with my injury I won’t risk it now. We may need the shadows soon and using them to quicken a run will do us no good right now.” He hesitates before continuing. “Shadow hopping is an option, but not until my energy is restored. Flying is incredibly difficult; the only wings I have are created from shadows, so there’s no way to fly with my magic so low. We’ll have to travel by foot.”
He tugs me forward to get us moving, and I shift the vial so I can hold it in front of us and light the path. “Doesn’t this make us easy to spot?”
Zarev points up, dragging me further into the trees. I snatch my shoes off the ground as we pass them, my feet already aching from the cuts and the uneven earth. Despite the protection they might offer, I can’t force myself to put them on, but leaving them feels wrong. It would be obvious I was here if someone happened by and spotted them. Mostly likely, the report would make its way back to Midas. He doesn’t need any more hints about where we’ve gone. “Guards can’t see through the thick of the trees from up on the wall. But the wall is impenetrable so it’s not supposed to be an issue if someone reaches it on foot. There’s only one gate in, plus the docks. No one can easily reach us at this point in the forest, and if you’re as important to Midas as everyone claims no one would risk shooting arrows down blindly..”
I chew my lip, debating saying anything as Zarev tugs me along. He’s surprisingly resilient, and I’m starting to feel fairly inadequate as we move. I’ve got some spines in my arms that hurt, and magic that is useless for combat other than leaving small marks on his chin. He’s doing the brunt of the work, and it’s making me feel guilty.
He didn’t have to bring me down from the tower. To the same extent, he didn’t have to pin me down like a snack either.
This isn’t the castle. No one’s going to show up and claim something is too hard for me and take the burden away. This is a life or death situation, and I need to hold up my end before he decides I’m too much trouble and leaves me someplace.
If he abandons me, I have no idea what I will do. I know nothing about this land, and even on the streets of Tressa I would be completely lost.
Licking my lips, I let us walk in silence for a few short minutes before my curiosity and my nerves win out. “So, this is the forest?”
“Sherwood Forest,” Zarev corrects, glancing at me. With the low lighting, his face is nothing but shadows, just like the magic he wields. “I know this forest well. A two day hike will put us at The Missing Shoe . ”
“Is that a place?”
Zarev snorts. “It’s the place. It’s a tavern. One of my brother's mothers owns the place.”
“You have siblings?”
He shoots me a look. “Not that kind of brother, Rapunzel. He’s a Hell Brother, not one born of blood.”
I frown, following him along the path. It’s a little overgrown, but it’s easier to follow than the forgotten mess on the castle grounds. “What’s a Hell Brother?”
Zarev is quiet for many minutes, quiet enough I wonder if I’ve angered him. “When we find a place to rest, I’ll scry for Raymundo. He should answer on his stone.”
Now he’s just not making any sense. “What are you talking about?”
“Never seen a seeing stone I take it?” he asks, a wry smile gracing his lips before he grimaces and goes back to scowling. “It’s a magic-infused stone that lets people reach out to others in different spots around Mystica. There’s a few that can reach Neverland and Ander Son’s Way, but my stone isn’t that strong.”
“I don’t know where those places are.” Even if he mentioned Neverland once in passing, I still don’t really know how it exists,
“It doesn’t really matter, we don’t need to speak to anyone there. Raymundo might be able to meet us part way to the tavern if my injuries don’t heal soon.”
I wince, glancing down at his torso. For being embedded with gold, he’s moving remarkably well. “I’m surprised you can walk.”
“It’s part of the burden of being a Reaper. I can withstand a great deal of torture before I’m down and out. Midas’ gold might hurt like hell, but it’s not fatal. I just don’t know how to dig it out at the moment.”
I have no answers for that. Other than the fight earlier, I’ve never seen my father do battle with anyone. He’s usually turning people to gold by barely lifting a finger. Watching as he raged and sweated to deal with Zarev…
I flick my eyes towards him again. This isn’t a weak man, and I’ve gotten myself lost in the forest with him. I’m blindly trusting him, if only because this is my first chance to ever leave the tower.
“If you don’t focus, you’ll walk into a tree,” Zarev tells me, just early enough that my eyes zero in on the trunk before me and I veer to the left. “You need to focus, Rapunzel. The forest isn’t a safe place.”
“Is that why Midas built the wall?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended.
“You know Midas built the wall to control who enters the Tressa,” Zarev replies, his voice staying the same even tempo. “And to keep out those he doesn’t want in his lands.”
“He didn’t want you there.”
“He didn’t invite me.” Zarev coughs, pounding a fist to his chest. “Enough questions. I can’t keep this up and find us shelter. We can talk when we’re no longer bleeding.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask about the black blood, but I bite back my questions and return to focusing on the dim path. We’re stuck together until we at least get out of this forest. I’m going to get my questions answered, whether or not he wants me to.