16 Rapunzel
When I wake again, it's not in any place I've been before. There's no ringing in my head when I blink my eyes open, and after several seconds I reach up tentatively to touch my face.
My fingers are a little red and puffy, like they were too close to the heat. But a relieved sigh escapes me when I touch my features and it doesn't hurt. The skin isn't cut away and bleeding like I thought I remembered from the last time I was awake.
I need a mirror to see the proof for myself. When I felt the blades and the pain I really thought I was going to die before Zarev found me.
Sitting up, a wave of nausea rocks through me for a moment. I take the time to stare down at my hands, both familiar and strange to me.
That flower thing in the gingerbread house… I snapped its neck. Or I snapped something. I heard the noise, felt the tension release as I fought it, and there was blood painting my golden hair.
Licking my dry lips, I close my eyes. They were going to eat me, so their death should be justifiable.
But I used my hair again as a weapon. First the magic bled from me to make Modred’s body melt and now I've snapped a neck.
I'm not sure who I am anymore. Killer is never a word I wanted to use to describe myself.
Standing slowly, I peer around the room. I got used to finding Zarev in the shadows of my bedroom at home, but nothing shifts to indicate that he's here. Disappointment echoes in my head, and it feels out of place after everything. I should feel relieved to be alive, grateful that I have magic hair that can save my life, but instead I'm having a rather mundane moment where I miss a boy.
A man. A dead one.
But I've felt Zarev's heart – it beats beneath his toned chest. Dead men don't have a beating heart.
Glancing around the room again, I take in the two small tables and the small vanity to one side. There’s a basin to wash up, and a wardrobe that appears to be empty. Two chairs sit near a small table, and when I eye the bed I’m sleeping in, I acknowledge that it’s wide enough for two.
“Look who's up and jonesing to go.”
I jump, spinning around. There's an older woman standing in the doorway of the room, and I cannot remember if it was open before or not. She's got red-brown hair that's streaked with silver, and a comfortable looking dress that's got hints of deep emerald among the browns and grays of her clothes. It matches the color of her eyes.
There's several earrings up one ear, which is a surprise. Few people wear jewelry like that in Tressa.
“Dont worry love, I'm just here to check in on ya. Raymundo's got Zarev working his arse off after disappearing for a month. We've needed a wolf for the hunt.”
I blink at her, because that jumble of words made no sense. She reminds me of Zarev with her cryptic way of speaking. “Who?”
“Oh, that boy didn't tell you anything did he?” She clicks, those bright green eyes peering at me. I'm short, but she's probably an inch or two shorter than I am. “I'm Dahlia, owner of The Missing Shoe . My son, Raymundo, needs Zarev's help to deal with some wayward critters that are coming too close to the tavern. Zarev owes Ray after reaping all ‘em souls for him.”
“Oh,” I reply, because it's still confusing. “It's um, nice to meet you, Dahlia.”
“Pleasure is all mine, dearie. Not often we get a royal princess here at the tavern, much less one that hides behind the Golden Wall.”
All at once, my guard is up. “You know I'm from Tressa?”
“Hon, with the way you started glowing when Zarev brought you in here, half the guests today know you're from the Golden City.”
I cringe. Hopefully it takes a while for news to travel back to my father. “How far are we from Tressa, exactly?”
“Two days time love. That run-in ya had in the woods could’ve set ya back, but Ray helped Zarev bring you here through the shadows. Got you back in the nick of time, too. You’ve been sleeping it off for a good two days.”
“I’ve been sleeping for two days ?”
“Yes. You were in so much pain when the boys brought you in.” She looks wistfully at me, like the memory is a meaningful one to her. “Zarev wouldn’t let anyone touch you, just brought ya up here. Said you could heal yourself. I thought he was barmy with that logic, but no one’s given you anything these past two days and you’re healing beautifully.”
My hands reach up, running along my sensitive, but not painful, skin. Four days means I’ve been gone half a week, but the castle in Tressa feels like a lifetime ago. Subconsciously I grab my hair, running my hands down the length like I always do, and find it stops near my waist instead of my feet.
Dahlia cocks her head as she watches me. “Swear that was half a foot shorter when he brought ya up. That magic of yours makes your hair grow fast?”
“Something like that.” I force a smile, feeling jittery and uncertain. “Do you have any water?”
“Yes, of course!” She spins to a pitcher on a table that I didn’t even see until now. “I’ve laid out some dresses for you, not as fine as the golden wares Zarev brought, but decent enough. It’ll be better than what you got on to walk through the tavern in.”
Glancing down, my mouth falls open.I knew my dress had taken a beating in the gingerbread house from the heat and all the cutting, but I didn't realize it was now little more than rags. Grasping the skirt, I find it’s torn in the front practically up to my hip. If I tried to run right now it might fall off.
Blushing, I snap my gaze back up as Dahlia brings over a glass filled with water. “Don’t trouble yourself with that, love. Just get cleaned up before you try to come downstairs. I can fix you up a bowl of stew, or we’ve got fresh bread baking. Should be ready soon.”
I take the glass, nodding. She’s spitting out things a mile a minute, and I’m still trying to process that I’m in a tavern someplace in Sherwood.
She must notice something’s off, because she points to the opposite wall. “Zarev said you don’t know much about Mystica. They teach some backwards history in your kingdom. Take a gander at the map, love. I’m sure Zarev will be up soon enough if you need some time to yourself.”
Alone time sounds perfect. Having company is nice, but this much is suffocating. I’ve gotten used to the isolation of my tower, and continuously meeting people or spirits is sapping my energy.
Dahlia gives me a knowing smile as she leaves. I rise from the bed and examine myself in the mirror, satisfied that the marks on my face are red, sensitive splotches and nothing more. I do my best to not look at my hair, because that’s the part that worries me. I turn, glancing at the clothing she laid out for me before focusing on the map pinned to the wall.
The map of Mystica is nothing like I expected. Tressa takes up such a small area compared to the size of the land mass, which is divided up into half a dozen kingdoms. I trace my fingers along the paper, reading the names of places I’ve never heard of. Red Woods. Swan Lake. Frostlands. Thornton Palace. The Barrens. Wonderland. There’s so many names on the map it’s boggling.
Sherwood seems to be a large crop of trees that spans most of the map. Camelot is labeled farther up the map than Tressa, but you can most certainly reach either kingdom by the sea. There’s some coastal looking places, but nothing is detailed out and there’s no names to help me identify them.
My hand falls on the space Tressa takes up. It seemed so much larger when I was trapped behind the wall, and even on the map there’s a barrier around the kingdom. Midas isolated us from the rest of Mystica, but I can’t understand why.
The map looks old, at least by a decade. It’s the wear of the paper that makes me wonder how old it is, and I run my fingers over a few spots where someone penned in names. I don’t know what to make of something tagged by an ‘X’ with Reapers and another space for Legs. It’s too hard to follow.
Sitting down on the bed, I try to imprint this map to memory. I need to know where I am in Mystica, but if I get turned around anywhere I’m liable to get lost. I don’t know how to tell which direction I am going; since I wasn’t taught geography back in the tower, there was no reason to teach me how to use a compass.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but my heart leaps when there’s a knock on the door. Thinking of Zarev, my questions burning in my throat, but when the door swings open a young girl stands there, disappointment floods through me. She doesn’t look any older than fifteen, carrying a bundle of clothing. “Here. Ma told me to bring these up to you,” she says, thrusting the clothes towards me. “Says you can change and wait for Zarev and Ray downstairs.”
I take the bundle, her light green eyes sparkling as she watches me. “Thank you.”
“We’re guessing on the size,” she says honestly, dusting her palms against her pant legs. I stare, trying to remember the last time I saw a girl wearing trousers. She snorts. “I take it the palace didn’t have a lot of girls wearing pants to meet with the King?”
My gaze lifts back to her face, and I choose to ignore the sarcasm for now. “What is your name?”
My gaze lifts back to her face. “What is your name?”
“Elsie,” she says, offering me an eye roll. “Raymundo is my brother. He had to go and get himself turned into a Reaper. Can you believe that? The goddamn audacity.”
I give her a tight smile, unsure what to say.
“He’ll be back soon. Zarev too. They raced out towards Swanling and the lake that direction. The Raven Woods have an infestation of ogres right now. Got ta’ chase ‘em out before they give the Swan Princess any problems.”
My interest piques. “Princess?”
She raises a brow, her red-brown hair catching the light as she shakes her head. “You are a strange one. Zarev said you were a different kind of princess, but he didn’t elaborate. Says you would need some time to adjust. Get dressed and come down to the bar. Thomas has some new ales this week, and he really can’t wait to meet a golden princess.”
Elsie rolls her eyes, and I get the feeling she isn’t as impressed with me as Thomas is. “Oh, right. I’ll get dressed…”
My voice trails off as I pinch the clothing, peering through the pile. These are more basic clothes, rivaling Zarev for dreary colors. No restraining corsets or toe-pinching shoes. The slip ons she set on the floor might need a strap to hold onto my arch, and there’s little padding in them.
“I hope our commoner clothes don’t offend you, your majesty, ” Elsie sneers, and I lift my gaze again. Bitterness clouds her gaze, and her hands have turned to fists as she watches me.
Embarrassment makes my cheeks flame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“Save it,” she growls, shaking her head as she turns. “You royals are all the same.”
I take my time getting dressed, partially because I put on the loose corset the wrong direction and spend far too long trying to figure out how to lace it. It goes under the bust instead of over, and the small section of ties pushes up my breasts as it cinches me in. The dress is a few inches too short, or maybe that’s the style. These shoes are a little loose on my feet, so I use another tie and fashion something akin to straps so they don’t fall off my feet. I almost consider just going down there barefoot, but the soles of my feet need the limited padding.
Braiding my hair takes the longest. My arms ache by the time I’m finished working out the tangles from my hair, painstakingly braiding it as best I can. The two braids make it a little less heavy on my sore scalp and by the time I make my way downstairs the light outside is dimming again.
Still no Zarev.
“Princess!” A booming voice pierces the space, and half the tavern looks my way when I reach the bottom of the steps. Dahlia stands beside the man who shouted, thumping him in the arm, and he gives the both of us a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Zelle .”
Right. There goes discretion.
“Look at you now,” Dahlia says, stepping from behind the bar to catch my hand. There’s joy in her eyes when I step closer, and she tugs on my arm. “Go on! Give us a turn! Oh, that dress fits you nice. And I knew my corset would hold you in just right.”
I blush, letting her observe me while the burly man watches. He reminds me of Elsie, and must be another child of Dahlia’s with the red brown hair and same smile lines.
“She’s pretty,” another voice says, and a young boy walks over carrying a tray. Then a second with his same likeness, and a third . “Ray says she’s like a golden kiss.”
“Hush,” Dahlia snaps, looking around at the four of them. “Zelle is visiting with Zarev. There is no golden anything here at the tavern. Understood?”
Four sets of eyes drop to the floor. “Yes, Mother.”
“Good lads. Now, back to work. We’re all celebrating tonight!”
The trio rushes off and the burly guy leans over. “Got some new ale, Miss. Fresh from Maker’s Market this last week. Such a good blend too. Care for a mug?”
“Don’t get her sloshed before Zarev comes back,” Dahlia reminds. When she looks back at me, she flashes me a true smile. “Zelle, dear, sit down. Thomas is my second eldest son. He can take care of you until the two Reapers are back.”
I nod, a little confused as I take a seat at the bar. “You said they are… hunting?”
“Raymundo was a prized hunter once,” she explains, cocking her head to one side. “I suppose, in his own way, Zarev was too. Oh, but don’t worry! Zarev is just helping my boy since he got the two of you back from the middle of Sherwood. They always stay out late. I’m sure he can answer all of your questions when he’s back.”
Thomas shoves a mug in front of me, winking before sliding further down the bar. “I… I’m sorry. Where am I? I thought I would see Zarev by now.”
Dahlia gives me an understanding look, and when she pats my hand it’s the most motherly gesture I’ve ever received. “Don’t worry, poppet. He’ll be back soon. Thought you would sleep a little longer. He said you two got into quite a bit of trouble with the Flowerborne.”
There we go, a little information. “Flowerborne?”
Thomas clears his throat further down the counter, and when I glance behind me several people stare.
Dahlia’s warm grip touches my arm. “Come in the back, dear. Tom! You come and find us if Zarev shows up before we’re back.”
“Aye, Mum!”
I grab the mug in a bit of a daze, and Dahlia pulls me to my feet. “Come now,” Dahlia urges, “best we talk back here.” I’m trying to observe the place as we move, looking around at framed photos high up on the walls, plaques, horns mounted above a large fireplace, and even more maps hung up around the room.
She takes me to an office, and my guard goes up. I loiter in the doorway, staring. The last time I walked into a strange house people… or flowers… tried to eat me. She doesn’t look offended as she digs through a desk for a moment before sitting on a squeaky chair.
Dahlia’s smile is genuine when she looks back. “Don’t fret, love. Zarev wouldn’t abandon you to anyone. I’ve just got to find it…”
Her voice trails off, and I glance around the room. It’s the same homey feeling as back at the bar, except there’s no boisterous laughter or children running around. There are still maps, some types of articles hung on the wall, and books…
“He said you didn’t know much about the lands,” Dahlia goes on, and her head pokes out again from the piles on the desk. “Says Midas locked you away all on your own.”
My eyes open wide, and I glance back. No one is immediately behind me, but someone down the hall might hear. “You know about-”
“Love, I know everything.” She shifts back out from behind the desk, holding a thick book. “Zarev’s been an orphan for quite a long time. We’re like family. And family takes care of each other, no matter what. He wanted to talk about you and be sure we were all okay housing the princess of Tressa.”
It’s unsettling how much she knows about me, but some of her words stick in my head stronger than the others. “Zarev is an orphan?”
“Was. I suppose none of that matters now that they’ve died.” Something like pain flickers across her face, but it’s gone quickly and she shoves the book into my arms. “Here. Some light reading to tide you over until they return. Should be before nightfall.”
The book is heavy in my arms. “Light?”
“Oh, these are wanderer’s stories,” she explains, and the blank cover makes a little more sense. “Everyone stops by The Missing Shoe at some point. We’re the central-most tavern in Sherwood. You want news, ya can find it here. See for yourself, love.”
I blink, waiting for there to be a catch, but she shoos me off with a grin. “Go on now. Take one of the corner tables, do some reading, finish your ale. Maybe your Reaper will be able to fill in the gaps when he’s back.”
My Reaper. It makes me hug the book tighter, and I nod slowly. “Right. I’ll just…” I gesture to the mug in one hand, the book in the other, and Dahlia chuckles. “I’ll go do some reading.”
I don’t see Zarev until the sun is gone. I’ve guzzled down some ale; it’s so much better than the dry wines my parents prefer in Tressa, and at some point one of the three little boys I saw earlier brings me some fresh bread. Gods, fresh bread at the tavern is so much better than the bread our chefs ever made in the castle.
I don’t actually see him walk in. One moment I’m enjoying how fluffy the bread is, flipping to another page, and the next there’s a man beside me, ripping a piece off for himself. “Learning about Mystica I see?”
I jump, managing to swallow the scream and avoid knocking the mug over on the book at the same time. I’m actually pretty proud of myself for that one. Dusting a cloth over my face, I grin at him. “Dahlia gave me this to read. Look! There’s a map.”
Zarev’s eyes are more orange than red right now, and when I focus on him he’s swapped the black clothing I’ve become familiar with for browns of different shades, the only black being gloves that cover his hands. That’s new. “I’m surprised you aren’t just studying the map.”
I look him over, realizing he appears better than okay. He doesn’t touch his chest, and I hope the gold is finally gone. My fingers itch to reach out and check for myself, but now that we’re in a tavern and not sitting in the woods it feels wrong. “Where have you been?”
He shrugs, reaching up to brush something from his face, and I realize he’s tugging something from his teeth. “Ray needed a little help out in the forest. I haven’t gone on a hunt in a long time.”
Blinking, I follow his finger when he points. There’s a man across the tavern, and half the people here rise from their seats to greet him. He has a friendly smile and sparkling green eyes, the exact opposite of Zarev. His hair is like Dahlia’s and his many siblings; the family resemblance is hard to ignore. “That’s Ray?”
“Mmm-hmm. Ogres came out of hiding in Ravens Wood and needed to be dealt with. Most ran towards Icicle Pass, so they will be Ban’s problem soon. He’ll enjoy the chase.”
“Icicle Pass…”
I’ve spent hours sitting here. The accounts of people’s travels are just as fascinating as the map, and I keep flipping through the worn book to try and follow along. A lot of people who pass through the tavern travel from the Frostlands, small little villages in Sherwood, up through Camelot, and down to Swanling, a kingdom that’s west of Tressa.
My eyes scan until I find what I’m looking for. “Ban is… another Reaper?”
“Yes. He travels more than the rest of us. Loves the Frostlands, which is absolutely insane for me. He’ll deal with anything that happens that far north. His frozen heart makes it easy for him to enjoy the cold.”
If anyone else said that, I wouldn’t take it literally. But Zarev says this with a straight face, and I get the feeling it’s exactly as he means.
I stare at the map. Icicle Pass is pretty far off, and there’s the sign for a castle with no name on every map I’ve seen.
I want to ask about that, but there are other things on my mind first. “You weren’t here when I woke up.”
Zarev raises a brow. “You rested for two straight days. I did check on you frequently, as did Dahlia, but I needed to help Ray before the ogres became an issue. It took most of the day but it’s settled now. I had to repay him somehow for helping us after the gingerbread house.”
Frowning, I try to remember what happened. Dahlia claimed to be the person who watched me the most since I arrived, and with Zarev missing until now there was no one to confirm that. “I remember those flower people-”
“Flowerborne.”
I blink. “Yeah. The… Flowerborne, and the house was so hot. I - I killed the blue one, and then you picked me up. It’s blank after that.”
Zarev nods, and one of the many red-brown haired kids walks by and slides a mug onto the table beside him. He pulls a coin from his new cloak - a gold coin - and flips it to the kid who catches it with ease. It reminds me of the coins I see in Tressa, but I don’t question him.
After all, Midas shot him with gold weapons. I think some coins are the least he could swipe from the kingdom.
“The Flowerborne,” he begins, taking a hefty sip of the ale as he looks around. “They come from Wonderland.”
Instantly, I sit straighter. Fun accounts of travelers of Mystica are nice, but I want the real stories from Zarev. He seems to know a lot and has shared so little with me. “Where the Mad Queen is?”
He nods, his brow pinching. “Yes. The Flowerborne are from the Butterfly Garden. That’s what it used to be, just inside the Red Woods.”
“Why do they have different names?” I ask, refusing to hold back. I need these details, I need to understand Mystica.
“Because the Butterfly Garden is just a local in the woods,” he explains. His fingers reach out, tugging at the corner of the map, and I let him shift it between us. “See how Sherwood stops here, at the barrens? Nothing grows there. When the Mad Queen started using blood to make her soil more potent, nature revolted. The Red Woods are named for the blood that used to paint the trees when she would go on a murder spree, but that was a long time ago. I was very young when she still walked around slaughtering people in the woods.”
I hesitate, because it hasn’t exactly come up until now. “And… how old are you exactly?”
He leans closer. “How old are you, Princess?”
Frowning, I look away. We both know I’m not sure.
“Let me see if I can help,” he grumbles, taking the book that Dahlia handed me. He grabs another map that Thomas dropped off an hour before, using it to keep my place before he thumbs through the book.
He stops thumbing through at an entry that has no date. But I spot the name up top, and it makes me hesitate.
Omari Wolfe.
“Read the entry,” he grumbles, glancing away.
Omari Wolfe
Red Era
There is unrest in Mystica. From the snow capped mountains of the Frostlands down to Tressa, the ripple effect of the Red Queen is felt throughout the land.
Queen of Hearts she once was. Married to the King of Diamonds, for his riches were known all around the globe. His wealth only partnered with his kindness, and everyone loved the Court of Cards.
But that was before the King of Diamonds died last year. His wife, the Queen of Hearts, became the sole ruler of the Court of Cards, the northwestern division of Wonderland. Strange things have happened since the Queen took over.
The Red Queen believes a shadow man killed her husband. She thinks it wasn’t his time, but a man of Death took him from this world. With teeth so sharp and a blade of unbreakable power, he stole the King and departed these lands forever.
I glance at Zarev, who is watching the tavern instead of me. The words vaguely remind me of him.
With the Court of Cards in unrest, the Queen is out hunting around Wonderland. I’ve heard of her traveling all the way to the divide between the Red Woods and Sherwood. She’s staying on her side of the lands, for crossing over into the rest of Mystica with her tyranny is an act of war.
But within her court, madness blooms. Another hunter stopped me just yesterday, claiming that she’s collecting wanderers who cross the border on the hunt and takes them to her court. She’s murdered some of her husband’s most loyal followers, and now she’s collecting people to play in her wild hunt.
It’s too much, too fast. She’s changing the fate of Mystica with madness built from pain. The King never sired a child with her, leaving the Queen lonesome in his absence.
I heard, and it is only a thing of rumors, but I heard there’s a girl who she keeps tied up in the towers of her castle. Some poor thing that brought joy to her life when the King was alive, and fuels her madness in his death.
It’s only a rumor though. The royals of the Court of Cards never had children, unless the King had a mistress. And he’s gone from this world now, so there’s no one who will willingly tell the tale.
Tomorrow, I go to see my sweet Elaine. My son is due soon, and we must ensure that the Court of Cards doesn’t go mad with the Queen’s bloodlust.
I blink, flipping to the next page. That’s all there is, and it builds more questions than answers. Tugging on Zarev’s sleeve, I glare at him. “That didn’t make sense.”
He holds up a finger, flipping further back in the book. More tales, more travelers. I would love to sit and read the whole book one day, and hear of journeys from afar.
But he was to be showing me these entries for a reason, so I stay quiet.
“Here,” he says, pointing to a page.
It’s a catalog of time, and I stare down at it in confusion.
Rupture in the lands, Barrens Created - Red Era
Flowerborne crossing borders - Red Era
Palace of Thorns borne - Red Era
Queen’s Court slaughtering the citizens of Wonderland - Blood Era
Mad Queen’s spies in crossing Mystica - Blood Era
Ander Son’s Way close borders to Mystica - Blood Era
Neverland close passage - Blood Era
Walls built around Tressa - Blood Era
Rise of the Reapers - Blood Era
Mad Troops storming Sherwood - Blood Era
Penned in at the bottom, in ink that looks fresh, my eyes widen at the scripture.
Visit from the Golden Princess - Blood Era
My eyes lift to his, confusion and betrayal rocking through me. “I don’t understand. I’m a part of this?”
His lips purse, and for a moment I think he’s going to dodge the question. “Every choice we make has an adverse reaction. I went to Tressa. Midas struck me with gold and the princess left her tower. My father hunted with his wolves, and one bit his son as a young boy.”
I blink, leaning closer. “Did you say father?”
He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Omari is my father. Elaine, my mother. They had three more children. When the Mad Queen started sending her troops through Mystica, crossing the borders of each land, they attacked anyone in their way. My family died in one of the first waves. They lived up closer to the Red Woods, in a little village that no longer exists.”
I feel like I’m not processing everything he says, but I ask anyway. “What was it called?”
“Wolfsbane.” Zarev looks away, and more and more questions bubble up inside me. “The village was full of hunters. That’s how I met Raymundo’s family. His dad used to travel through and go on hunts with mine. They used the wolves, and always brought back a lot of kills.”
Playing over everything he’s said, the pieces slide into place. “The boy who was bit… that was you?”
Zarev nods, curling his lips. “When the Mad Queen first started laying siege to the land, she used a lot of dark magic, blood magic. That contaminates the earth. When beasts eat and drink from the land, they are subject to the poisons left behind. The wolves ate the small creatures and drank from the streams the magic polluted, and after so long it began to drive them mad. I wasn’t careful around them, and one day one of them snapped.”
He tugs back the sleeve of his tunic, showing me skin I’ve seen before. But this time his fingers trace over a scar that’s barely visible, circular like a deep bite. “We thought I would die from infection. Instead, the wolves had magic in their blood, and in a human boy it mutated.”
My eyes widen, and I can’t look away from him. “And it turned you into…”
He chuckles humorlessly. “I think the last name I had was the Big Bad Wolf. I didn’t do a whole lot of killing in my hybrid form mind you, and I only shifted with the moon. I didn’t fit in with the shifters, because I was made from poisoned magic, and I didn’t fit with my family, who feared I would contaminate the rest of them.”
Licking my lips, I close the book and lean in closer. “So, before they died-”
“My family died during the Blood Era,” he explains. “The Red Era lasted for close to a century, though time is meaningless when the victors of war keep rewriting history. That’s why books like this exist. Mystica is a land fractured by kingdoms, at war within itself. The greedy believe time doesn’t exist outside of their reign of rule, and they do their best to erase that history. That’s why most entries aren’t included with dates. It’s all a guestimate at best. We track the time in Mystica through eras, set in motion by whatever manic ruler decides to go to war next.”
“So the Mad Queen?”
He raises a brow. “And King Midas. He built a wall, locking his people away from the rest of the world, and stopped allowing the trading of goods. Gold is scarce in Mystica except for in your home, and all the trading that happens with Tressa goes directly through the Kings, like Arthur. The rest of us aren’t included in those trades. We’re expected to figure things out for ourselves.”
Pressing my hands to the table, I try to steady myself. Time has no meaning, so to know how old a dead man is supposed to be could be impossible. I wet my lips, looking down at the closed book again. “What era were you born in?”
“The Blood Era, when the Red Queen turned mad and started slaughtering everyone. Before Tressa’s walls rose and the Mad Queen lost what was left of her mind. If memory serves, rumors of the Princess of Tressa started just after the wall went up. You can’t be much more than a decade younger than I am, if I were still aging. Your lifeline is longer too, extended by the gift you were blessed with.”
I let that thought settle in my mind. I wish there were dates, timelines, but if people keep rewriting history there’s got to be a source someplace. Some magical libraries out there where people who care deeply about books preserved the things that really matter. Midas wouldn’t have anything like that, but it would have to be someplace like a palace where it would be difficult for knowledge to be destroyed.
But I don’t know where. I’ve only just learned about the rest of Mystica, and Zarev is busy turning my brain to mush with all the details he’s decided to share. It takes me a few moments of going over the timeline again before I can figure out what to say next.
“You were born before the Rise of the Reapers?” I try to remember everything that page said. The entry stuck out to me, since Zarev constantly calls himself a Reaper of Death.
He nods. “I was a child when I was bit by the wolf, and a halfbreed for twenty years after that. I died sometime after my thirtieth birthday, but again, time was blending together by that point. I think I was thirty-three before then. It’s hard to remember exactly how old I was before death.”
I stare down again, my hands fisting the fabric of my dress. “And… do you know how long ago that was?”
“Hmm… about a decade. I haven’t aged, like the rest of the Reapers, but those around us do. Why do you think Ray has sixteen siblings? He’s a little younger than I am, about thirty when he died, but Thomas is thirty-one now.”
My eyes widen, thinking of Dahlia. “But, his mom doesn’t look-”
“Dahlia lives an interesting life,” he interrupts. “She operates one of the most popular taverns in the land. People give you things when they like what you offer, and the care and service at The Missing Shoe is unmatched.”
I try to take it all in, but I know I’m going to quickly start forgetting things. Scrubbing a hand over my eyes, I groan. “I can’t even remember what started this. I know I didn’t ask if you were a wolf-”
“Werewolf,” he interrupts, shrugging when I peek out behind my fingers. “If you want to be technical. But then I died, and the bloodlust more or less vanished with it. I don’t have to hunt, I rarely eat. Death changes things.”
Yes, I suppose it does. “You were telling me about… the Flowerborne.”
“Ah. They come from the Butterfly Garden, it’s labeled that way on most maps. But really, it’s Leg’s Garden, since she’s the head gardener and no one across Mystia will question her care for the plants.”
“Even these Flowerborne?” My time in that gingerbread house feels so long ago, and being in Tressa even longer. It’s amazing how different I feel now that I’m not suffocating beneath my parents' scrutiny.
“The Flowerborne are the way they are because of the poisoned earth,” he reminds me. “The gardener's job is to craft the prettiest flowers, specifically roses, for the Queen’s gardens in court. She tends to them in the gardens of the Red Woods, and they are transferred to the court when the Queen demands something new. The Flowerborne continue to happen because Legs the gardener can’t stop working for the Queen. She chooses to live over controlling wild plants that run out of the Red Woods anyway. It’s difficult when most of the Flowerborne would like to escape. The two we met in the woods were an anomaly. Most can’t adapt the way they did, and cooking up people to eat the bits they deem worthy is a unique approach. I haven’t seen a plant masquerading as a witch before.”
I nod, my brain going numb. I don’t think I can take in much more at this point.
Like he can sense my confusion, Zarev nods and beckons someone over. It’s Elsie, who looks between us with knitted brows. “Get her another drink. Mead.”
She scoffs. “Am I going to get yelled at for getting the princess drunk?”
“No,” he replies sternly, and after shooting me an unreadable look, Elsie turns back towards the kitchens.
I finger the book again, exhaustion creeping over me. My world isn’t just unraveling, it’s being torn apart. Things that I thought were always real are being thrown into question.
Zarev pats my hand, drawing my gaze once more. “Don’t worry, Princess. You don’t have to learn a lifetime of history in one night.”