17 Rapunzel
A full week at the tavern makes me think I’ve never really lived. I’m selfishly holding Zarev hostage in the room each night so we can tease in that maddening way, and Dahlia shoots us a bemused grin each time she sees us in the morning. She doesn’t ask anything about our nights together, but I do know that she seems elated that Zarev’s attached himself to anyone.
People know what we’re up to. Zarev unhelpfully told me how thin the walls are, and the shadows don’t block out sound when he’s using them to fill me. I’m embarrassed the first two days when Ray and half his siblings make little jokes about it, but they all quickly taper off. By the end of the first week, there’s a pattern to each day that Zarev and I follow. It’s almost… comforting.
I haven’t seen Modred since I woke, and according to my Reaper he has no idea where the spirit went. I can’t say I’m sad, and maybe when Raymundo took care of reaping the souls from the gingerbread house he got rid of Modred as well. But Zarev was there, and I think he’d recall that detail.
A week bleeds into two. I wait for there to be news at the tavern about Tressa, but the kingdom is oddly silent. I haven’t seen the guards I expected, or heard about any retaliation from Camelot for killing the King’s nephew.
It’s like it never happened, or the royals are trying to keep it that way.
Zarev gets antsy the longer we are here. Apparently two Reapers staying in the same place for so long can cause problems, and while I get where he is coming from I’m not really sure what he wants me to do about it. I have no idea what to do from here, and everytime someone asks if I’m returning to Tressa, I blanch.
What should I say? My father likely accused me of starting a fire and killing Modred and whoever else? I ran off with a Reaper who stood against Midas and now I might be an enemy of the crown? All options sound bad and until I absolutely have to decide, I’m putting it off.
I just don’t know what to say. I don’t have the answers people seek.
The time at The Missing Shoe lets me read the entirety of the traveler’s book. No one needs it for the time being, though Dahlia occasionally asks if I have questions. She’s a kindly older woman, and I wish my mother was half this loving. She checks on me more than anyone in the castle did, except perhaps my poor cat.
I really hope Cheshie is okay. If carrying a palace cat through Mystica wasn’t such a cumbersome idea, I would’ve tried to bring my feline. But that could’ve caused a number of issues, and Cheshie was always good about hiding in the castle.
The only other thing that sitting at the tavern gives me is time. Zarev is less forthcoming with his stories after the first night, like the memories pain him. When I asked Raymundo three days ago about his wolf side, he looked stunned that Zarev confided in me at all.
Now, I have spare time to practice my magic. Wrapping Zarev’s neck during sex is both titillating and terrifying. One wrong move and he could end up like the Flowerborne I killed, though his neck is quite a bit thicker than the blue flower’s stem-like throat.
I still shudder at the memory.
Glancing at my hands, I try to focus my magic there again. I need to get control of it if I ever plan on fighting, and nothing in that notebook tells me about anyone who has magic like mine. The way Raymundo’s siblings stare at my hair tells me it’s an anomaly, and the curious looks I get make me nervous someone will put the pieces together and figure out who I am.
Thankfully, there are so many kids who live and work here there isn’t time for a stranger to talk to me. The tavern is a cozy family environment, and I get to meet almost all of Raymundo’s siblings as they come around to check out my hair or ask about Zarev. There’s seventeen siblings total, so I’m never really alone anytime I come down here.
I mean, go Dahlia. But the only thing I can glean from Raymundo’s siblings is that their father died some years ago. The youngest ones have to be at least eight, so I can’t quite gauge if they all have the same father. But my lord, they all look so similar whenever I see one of them.
Genevieve, another sister of Raymundo’s and closer to my age than Elsie, has a tiny bit of air magic. We spend some time together when she isn’t working the tavern or running messages between here and a small village nearby. I like spending the mornings with her when Zarev is busy, but I feel those days are numbered. We’re going to have to do something soon, and I can tell that Zarev is antsy to move on from here.
It’s not that he doesn’t like where we are. He seems elated. But it makes him uneasy too, and try as he does to hide it, I know Raymundo feels the same.
I wish I could figure out more about the Reapers, but Zarev claims it’s good to understand the workings of Mystica before learning about the dead. I adamantly disagree, but this is one story he doesn’t seem eager to tell.
Standing outside the tavern one morning, Genevieve points up in the midmorning light, and I watch as the lines of shoes that hang high above the tavern shake in a breeze she creates.
Genevieve is nicer than any of the other girls I ever met around my age. Priscilla and Anastasia are the closest as of late, and they are nothing like friends. Genevieve is kind, if not reserved, and she offered to help me learn to channel my magic and pass the time when I’m alone.
Elsie still seems bitter about my royal status, though there isn’t much to be done about that. I’m hoping she comes around, as I think there’s a chance we could be friends, but she doesn’t seem keen on the idea as of yet.
Standing off the path, we don’t draw much attention. Midweek there seem to be less people about, and she said the weekends are when the tavern is packed because of the markets around here.
“Focus the magic the way you would as if you held something,” she explains, pointing high towards the steepled roof of The Missing Shoe . I’ve gotten used to the design of this place, add ons to either side of the cozy front door, and it looks like a lot of love went into the building over the years. High above, where Genevieve channels her magic, lines of shoes blow in the breeze. It’s only one shoe of each kind, something she claims is to honor the fallen. The lines are so high I can’t even scent anything on the breeze, and she claims that’s the idea. “Magic is tangible when you want it to be. Ray taught me that.”
I haven’t seen Zarev or Ray play much with the shadows. But if they were a gift after death, I suppose playing with them might not be the first thing on their mind.
Glaring down at my palms, they softly glow. It doesn’t create the heat I always associated healing with in my hair, but trying to pull the magic to my palms instead of my head is strange. For years I never even thought about where the magic was channeled.
“Good,” she continues, rocking back and forth on her heels. The air under her control follows the push and pull of her body, while all I can do is make my hands glow. We aren’t actually sure if I can produce gold like Midas, but I can melt, so there’s that.
I haven’t tried anything else with my hair aside from the bedroom activities with Zarev. If I learned how to control the magic in my hair, I could strangle for real instead of play and be a force whenever we’re on the road again. I’m going to need to protect myself, and waiting until I can touch someone to melt them might put me in danger.
If I were to die, the healing gift dies too. I’ve tried over the last two weeks, but nothing I do heals Zarev's chest; the gold remains. He seems resigned to his fate until a new solution comes along, but I’m determined to figure this out. If I can heal, why can’t I fix what the gold is doing? Midas isn’t close enough to influence the gold embedded into his skin.
I shove the thoughts away, trying to focus. Pressing my palms together, I focus the heat and make a swiping motion downward. The thinnest of lines appears burned in the dirt, and I lose all focus to clap my hands. “Oh!”
“See?” Genevieve clasps her hands together. “It takes practice. You have a lot of power, so you should be able to control it over time. You definitely need to keep exercising your abilities though. Like any skill, practice makes perfect.”
“You’re quite chipper,” I reply, letting the magic fizzle away.
“I’m excited that my teaching is working,” she replies, clapping her hands. “Other than Ray, none of my siblings have any magic. Some of them are jealous, like the triplets, and some are more or less indifferent, like Thomas. There’s no one who gets what it’s like to have power like this.” She nudges me with her hip, flashing me a smile. “But you do. Having you around is nice. No one ever stays here this long.”
My smile slips. If Zarev has his way we won’t be here much longer.
Genny refuses to let our good moods disappear, and we continue to practice until I’m slicked in sweat and feeling like I’m getting nowhere. We break for the afternoon, knowing the Reapers should be back soon, and I hurry inside for a drink and to change into something else.
I grab the book Dahlia lent me on my way back down, following Elsie’s instructions that her mother is in the back. I walk to the office, rapping on the door, and Dahlia’s pleasant voice carries through to the hall. “Open.”
Pushing inside, she beams at me. I don’t get to chat with the tavern owner every day, but when we do it’s really nice. I enjoy her company and her motherly touch more than she will ever understand. “Ah, Rapunzel, what brings you back this early in the day?”
I smile, handing her the book. She lifts her brows and stares at me, taking it from my hands. “I’ve read it twice. I took some notes, and Zarev handed me my own map a couple days ago. He had to bring me another because I made so many marks on the first.”
She laughs, taking the book and returning it to the hiding spot behind the desk. “Ah. He’s meeting tradesmen out on the road then. This is a prime time to travel right now. Weather’s good, and there’s a lot of movement in the woods and around the coast this time of year. You would have to wait a few weeks to meet someone carrying maps otherwise.”
Smiling, I nod. “Thank you for letting me borrow it. I’m still confused about some things, but it helps me get a broader understanding of Mystica. Midas and Dorah… they didn’t share much with me.”
Dahlia’s smile falters. “What is still confusing you?”
I wave a hand. “Timelines, mostly. It’s hard to wrap my head around. Zarev is helping.”
“And you two still plan to move onward soon?”
Slowly, I nod. “I think he wants to be on the road by next week.”
“Ah, sounds like him. He gets antsy staying in one spot for too long. But what’s your plan once you head out?”
My eyes dance away. “I don’t know yet.”
“Tressa?” she prods, leaning back in her chair. “Or will you go explore Mystica more? If your parents are busy pretending something didn’t happen, and there’s no news on this side of the wall, you may have time to burn.”
“But I don’t have any idea what’s happening back home either.”
Dalia nods. “True. You’ll have to decide what the most important thing is to you. Rapunzel. It's your choice, so long as you don’t let someone else control you.”
I scoff. “You know, that traveler’s log is full of people who had someone else controlling them.”
‘Oh?”
I nod. “There’s all the people running out of the Red Woods and Wonderland, the wanderers who travel through Sherwood without a plan, even the people trying to get to the coast. Maybe they weren’t being directly controlled, but someone else’s choices influenced them. I’m no different.”
Dahlia leans back again, smiling. “You’re learning, girl. Everyone is influenced by others. It’s a matter of whether or not they can still think and decide for themselves. That’s control.”
I mull that information over in my head, thinking back through the travel log. It was so interesting to read different accounts in different eras, but there’s still no dates. A few spots look to be crossed out, and I can’t figure out why someone would bother to do that. Maybe to make things less confusing.
“So many people bend under others' control,” I grumble. “I did, beneath my parents’. Even the unhappy let it happen. There’s one woman, I feel bad for her, really. Says she was someone’s mistress, and she didn’t think she could ever be more. It sounded so… sad.”
“That’s just one story of many.”
I shrug, standing when she does. “Right, of course. Her name just sounded vaguely familiar.”
“Do you remember it?” Dahlia asks me.
“Yeah, it was a strange one. She signed her entry as Lady Tremaine.”
Dahlia pauses, her eyes widening. “Lady… Tremaine, you say?”
“I just thought it sounded familiar,” I reply, giving Dahlia a forced smile. She seems a little surprised by my comment, but doesn’t say anything else.
I step to the door, giving her a little wave. She doesn’t return my gesture, appearing perplexed as she stares off into space. I don’t have time to question her reaction, however. Elsie catches me at the door.
“Zelle, better get back outside. Zarev’s back.”
“You never explained how you became a Reaper.”
Zarev glares down at me as we walk. When night settles in, the land around The Missing Shoe is absolutely gorgeous. The shoes up high seem to have a bit of pixie dust, making them shine like lights outside of the tavern. I’ve learned it’s best to not hang out directly out front during the busy season, because people walk past the doors all night long, making it impossible to hold a real conversation, not to mention keeping anything confidential.
Just past the treeline, little lights are hung in the branches, giving Sherwood a pretty bluish glow. The lights illuminate a winding path, like walking into a secret garden. This is my favorite spot to be at night. Not in the tavern with company and good food, but out here, beneath the stars.
“It’s not a happy story, Rapunzel.”
I scoff. “You’re dead, Zarev. I assume it’s a sad one.”
He shrugs, glancing away from me. The lights gleam off his scythe as we walk, giving it an unusually pretty glow. It’s too early to see the moon, and he already told me we might miss it with the clouds. “People are traveling all over Sherwood, even across The Barrens from Wonderland.”
I nudge him as we walk. “That has nothing to do with anything, Zarev. You’re stalling.”
With a sigh he stops walking, scratching the back of his head. He looks resigned and uncomfortable, like he knew it was inevitable but didn’t want to go down this path. “The four of us - myself, Raymundo, Ban and Lucius - made the grave mistake of trying to steal from the Queen’s gardens in the Red Woods long ago. Legs spotted us and tried to send us back, but guards caught us and brought us before the Queen.”
I surf through my memory, trying to remember the name. “Legs… the gardener?”
“You wouldn’t think she’s one of the good guys would you?” he asks, shooting me a half smirk. “She used to be loyal to the Queen before she stole her legs. The nickname stuck.”
I blink. “She… the Mad Queen stole her legs?”
“Well, ripped them off, if you want to get technical.”
Ripped them off.
To think this is the woman who once abandoned a cat in Tressa is surreal. The Queen was a lot to handle, but not some beast of a ruler back then. Or at least she wasn't during her time in my kingdom.
Zarev looks off into the distance before speaking again. “We were young. It was an ignorant idea, but we were struggling. Across The Barrens in the Red Woods there were different things to eat, drink, trade. I was an orphan, Raymundo a child of many, Lucius was banished, and Ban a murderer. People didn't like us hanging around. Going that far north was an insane attempt to try and bring some money in so we all didn’t struggle as much.”
He pauses, and I have to physically bite my lip to keep from jumping in with questions. He rarely speaks of the other two Reapers, and I’m bursting to ask about them. “Ray’s mom had just started the tavern and it didn’t flourish in the beginning. The rest of us didn’t have anyone to rely on but ourselves. Lucius is a prince, but at the time he was banished from his home. I knew how to hunt only small animals back then, and Ban and Raymundo could hunt bigger game but it’s hard to find some along the paths. You have to go off-road. Lucius is absolutely hopeless. I’m still not sure if he can kill to survive.”
For a moment he goes quiet, as though thinking things through. “I lost my family a few months before and I had my shifting to contend with. I didn’t learn much about being a wolf, not when I was thrust into the life of a Reaper not long after.” He blows out a breath. “The guards caught us and dragged us back to the Queen’s court all the way from the gardens. You’ve seen the distance. It was a three-day ride where we were beaten on the journey with a handful of other prisoners. This was in between moons, so my shift didn’t take over. Ban’s ice magic couldn’t do much in the humidity of the gardens in summer, and Ray is best with a bow. We were at the guards mercy until we stopped.”
Mentioning his wolf side makes my questions bubble up again, but I try not to talk about it much. He doesn’t seem to like remembering, which is sad if it’s part of who he is now. Even if he doesn’t like it, even if he is Death, this is something he can never truly escape. Unless he wants to acknowledge that, he’ll continue to struggle with it.
Zarev starts walking, and I jog to keep up. He’s agitated as he speaks, flexing his hands as he glares ahead of us. “We were so young then. We knew the Mad Queen killed her prisoners by that point and we were just awaiting death. One of the prisoners died en route, and the other two must’ve been in transport for some time. When we reached her court, they were dead within the day.”
My eyes widen in horror. Midas would torture people in the throne room, turning them to gold or twisting the element to his whim to cut from the inside. It was horrific, but all the torture took place inside the lands. No one had to travel for days to receive their torture, which seemed like a special kind of torture all it’s own. It happened the same day in Tressa if not the next, and Midas preferred a speedy trial before death.
To be dragged for days just to suffer more… my stomach rolls. I don’t know if I could handle that.
“Usually she beheaded trespassers,” Zarev goes on, and I follow him mindlessly further into Sherwood. The pretty lights disappear, but walking in the dark with a Reaper makes me feel secure. “I guess she was in a mood that day. The others died too quickly, and she only had four victims left to play with. She had the guards drag us one by one to her throne so she could cut us apart.”
He holds up his hands, the scarred spade and slashes making me see real red. She took what should be something symbolic and turned it to torture.
The Court of Cards. That’s what the entry from Omari said. Before she was the Mad Queen, she was the Queen of Hearts. If she carved the symbol for a house of cards into each of them, they should all bear the scars of her torture in the form of a symbol.
Zarev’s is spades. I’ve seen Ray’s, where clovers are scarred into his palms. I have no idea which one decorates Ban or Lucius and I don’t want to ask. Zarev starts speaking again, and the thoughts fade away.
“Once she was through marking and making us bleed, she instructed us to run through the courtyard so there would be something fun to hunt. We would play the prey, and she and her court would chase and torture us some more until we died. It’s a sick game, but we were already bleeding, and with the skeletons hanging on the walls, we knew she was serious. I had my wolf side and Ban had his ice, but we were too weak for any of that to matter. All the men and women sitting in her court agreed to whatever she said, so there was no one who stood up for us.”
“She made a sport out of hunting you?” I ask, the horror clear in my voice.
“You could say that. The Mad Queen is impatient when she wants to be. She directed everyone in court that afternoon to participate and dragged us outside for her game. The only thing we really had going was we each knew how to hunt, and the people in the Mad Court hadn’t ever had live bait to practice on. She typically killed the prisoners too quickly.”
“That’s horrible.”
“That’s how things go in the Mad Court. The Queen you met in Tressa is a lie. This is who the Mad Queen is.” He purses his lips, his steps slowing. “There was a man stuffed into a white rabbit costume who blew the horn and the hunt began. I’m pretty sure the Queen cut off his head as she passed. I don’t remember ever seeing him again.”
Zarev clears his throat before continuing and I can see his shoulders growing tense the longer he talks. I thought watching him talk about his parents and his wolf was a struggle but this is so much worse. “We ran for the trees, splitting up so it would be harder to kill us. The court opened into fields and cliffs, but if you know what direction to run it’s easy to find your way back to the edges of the Red Woods. Hunting was something each of us did, so we knew how to tell what direction we were going. We collectively took off that way, scattered apart on instinct to hopefully survive the hunt.”
“But you didn’t escape,” I say quietly, terror building in my mind's eye.
“No. We ran and ran until everything hurt and then we ran even more. The court grew angry behind us because we were difficult to catch, but eventually we grew weary. Torture is exhausting, and as the adrenaline wore off, the pain returned. We managed to find a section of rock and stone and tried to sneak in and hide in the smallest caves. As we ran, the Queen kept zapping us with magic anytime she could reach one of us, but for a brief time we lost her. Unfortunately, one of the players saw us and climbed to the rocks above, jumping down. The unbalanced stones caved in and crushed us.”
I blink, surprise rocking through me. “You were crushed by stones?”
“To death,” he agrees. “I don’t remember what happened initially, I think the moments after death take a bit of time to register. But I do remember coming around again, looking down at the blood oozing from the rocks, and knowing I was trapped in there someplace. I couldn’t see my body, but I didn’t feel anything either.”
My breath catches. Death sounds so empty and… terrifying.
We crest a short hill, and Zarev pivots to the left where I’m surprised to see two stumps to sit upon. He takes one, gesturing for me to follow, and it takes several moments before he speaks again. “When I looked back at the Queen, a man of shadows stood beside her. She was laughing with her court, but he simply stood there and watched. I was certain I was supposed to go with him, but I couldn’t move. No one could see him but me, and he watched the Queen with an unreadable expression for a long time.”
“Was that the Diamond King,” I blurt out, throwing my hand over my mouth in the next breath. I didn’t mean to cut in, and I wait for Zarev to reprimand me for doing so.
He doesn’t, pulling my hand from my lips with a frown. “I couldn’t move, so I stood there and watched the Mad Queen gloat over the latest kills. The shadow man watched on while the Queen poked fun at our deaths, but his likeness wasn’t that of the Diamond King. He simply stood there and at one point her arm passed through him entirely. That’s when I really knew he was dead, and so was I. He only spoke once, and just before he began I saw my friends appearing too as though from a haze. The longer we were stuck in death, the easier it became to see each other.”
When he speaks again, his voice is lower, like he’s impersonating the shadow man. “ How curious. Four men felled by stone, in the land of madness unknown. Four to make a house so strong, the evil Queen's final song.” He clears his throat. “It made no sense back then. But he pointed at me, and the shadows shot from his hands. I thought he was something my brain made up to justify my sudden death, but the magic hit me and ripped a scream from my throat. I knew for sure then that he was real.”
“Who was he?”
“I have no idea. He didn’t speak directly to any of us from what I know. But when the shadows wrapped around me, I could see my friends clearly. They were trapped in their own void and turmoil until the shadows attached to us, like a cloak of Death. When he spoke again, he gave us nothing else to explain what was happening. I just remember the echo of his voice in my head, like a cryptic prophecy or warning.”
His voice goes back to that low timbre again. “Trapped beneath stone so cold, only here can power hold. From the stone a blade doth arise, to reap the soul’s last surprise. From the darkness can come light, if you help others reach the final goodbye.”
I shudder. “That’s… cryptic.”
“ I don’t really know how much time passed after the shadow man spoke his rhyme but for a moment I felt weightless before a crushing sensation enveloped me. The Queen and her court disappeared at some point, but I never saw them leave. They were simply there one moment and gone the next, like a bad dream where I was stuck beneath the stones again. The stones were heavy but the shadow magic he had cast upon us helped us crawl free of the rubble. It couldn’t heal us though, and it felt like a second death would soon beckon us home. Your gift of life maintains your youth. My curse of Death keeps me forever young, so the task of reaping never ends.”
I can’t even imagine what it’s like to die, come back, and still have no idea what’s going on. “What happened to the stone? Is that important?”
He nods. “When we managed to get free, the stones splintered and became malleable. The shadows clung to the stones like they had to the shadow man. We learned over time to work with the shadows and learned that when our energy is focused, we could use them to cut the stones into crude weapons. After that, there was nothing else to do but find a way out of Wonderland. When we realized the living couldn’t see us, we made our escape.” Zarev sighs. “It took four days. We didn’t travel very fast, and we were easily winded and still healing. The weapons worked well for each of us, and we nearly made it back to Sherwood before Legs crossed our path.”
“Legs, the one who tends to those freakish flowers?”
“Yes, though the mutations aren’t all her fault. Wonderland’s soil is forever poisoned in sin. She caught us along the barrier to Sherwood, stopping us before we could cross. She said a man of shadow visited her days ago in a dream and told her to hand us this when we passed.”
He taps a finger over the scars. “It was the ingredients to a salve. Helped to diminish the scars once she found us. She told us to run from the woods, to never look back, and we didn’t. It took almost a month to figure out why we were seeing the dead, and longer still to figure out how to cut into space and allow the spirits to pass through.”
“Cut into space…” I shake my head. That must be the way to reap, but I have yet to see the process for myself. With Raymundo around, Zarev doesn’t have to be the one to do the reaping, and so long as the gold affects his powers he doesn’t seem eager to try. “No one could help with all this?”
“Have you met another Reaper,” he asks dryly. “The only person who could was the man of shadows, and we never saw him again. As we learned to adapt, we divided. Lucius went back to the palace he was banished from, and now he’s trapped there. Ban disappeared just as quickly, and he is very much on his own journey. He rarely checks in anymore, just letting us know on occasion if something is wrong in his domain.”
“Domain?”
“I watch the south eastern side of Mystica. Ray, the southwest quadrant, Ban to the northwest and Lucius to the northeast. We reap when we can and try to stay off the Queen’s radar.”
“If this happened long ago, would the Queen even recognize you?”
“I'm sure she would. Cutting those stones caused a scandal, and people whispered about men of Death traveling through the lands. When we couldn't hide it anymore, we revealed ourselves. She knows we exist, but she has no idea what to do with us anymore than we do.” He licks his lips. “The sword Arthur Pendragon carries was pulled from the same type of stone as the one we cut. People think the stone isn’t important, just the sword. But Excalibur is a magical item, crafted from stone of strength and power. It was the same type of stone that rained down and crushed us that day.”
I have to close my eyes and fit the pieces together in my head. Arthur Pendragon is the King of Camelot, and if the Reapers were crushed by the stones in Wonderland that are similar to his blade… did Arthur find his sword in the Mad Queen’s territory?
That could mean there’s a connection between Camelot and Wonderland. Staring at the map, it's not completely unbelievable since the borders touch. But unless they are allies, I can’t imagine that someone like the Mad Queen would let Arthur have such a powerful weapon as Excalibur. Even if he snuck into her lands to steal it, the blade Arthur wields is well known. I’m sure at some point she would realize that it came from her lands. Or, maybe I’m making her out to be too observant. Maybe he’s had the sword all along right under her nose, and the Mad Queen is none the wiser.
I purse my lips, trying to decide what confusing snippet to grab onto and try to understand. After several moments, I settle for the part that directly affects me. “So why the concern with the spirits in Tressa?”
Zarev hesitates, and I know getting him to give up the secrets surrounding my home will be a struggle. “Any power the Queen can gain is bad,” he says finally. “Souls are meant to pass on. The ones that remain too long become cursed and turn deadly. That was my concern with Modred if he’s here too long. And if the Queen had it her way, everyone’s spirit would be damned when they died, and turn their life force over to her. Hearts are just another tradable good for her. Blood magic comes at a price, but not one she likes to pay herself. She would rather force submission from the soul through a heart, and if she can’t physically hold one to maintain control, she uses the blood magic now infused in the earth in Wonderland to draw wayward spirits to her. The Barrens, the dead earth between Sherwood and the Red Woods, helps to deter many spirits from going to her court. The space doesn’t convey magical energy with no magic left in the earth itself, and many spirits wander forever in the dead zone, waiting to be Reaped. Unfortunately, our magic isn’t strong there either. It’s nearly impossible to Reap someone stuck in The Barrens.”
I bite my lip thoughtfully. There’s a lot to unpack, and I get the feeling Zarev will be repeating himself many times in the future. “The Queen should fear you, all of you. A soul wronged in life will hold a grudge in death.”
I snort. “Are you an expert on death now, Princess?”
“No. It’s something my father would say. He said the dead can be manipulated. He told me that once. I almost forgot, because it was the day he almost killed Robin the Brave.”
“The man half-imbedded in the wall of the palace?”
“There’s several.” I sound numb to the truth, and maybe I am. “He always said that the spirit is what makes us real. We never spoke of Death really, so I never questioned it. I didn’t feel like using the short periods of time my parents did take an interest in me to argue about the dead.”
“I went to Tressa because the land is dying. The Queen continues killing, and as Reapers we can only move so far and fast to save the souls. Things shouldn't be like this. Before us people had to pass on in their own time, another way. I believe the shadow man we saw had something to do with it before we came to be, but despite looking all over Mystica, we’ve never found him.”
“What will you do if you find him?”
“I have no idea. It seems so unlikely now that I don’t even consider it anymore. He’s gone someplace we cannot find, and we’re on our own.”
“I’m alone too,” I admit, the truth hurting. “Even if I go back to Tressa, I’m a prisoner and pawn to my parents again. Outside the wall I’m on borrowed time waiting to be found. I can’t tie down anyone to stay with me when I’m always a threat. If Midas does send people over the wall looking, I’ll have to leave the tavern.”
“It’s better to be on the move anyway if you think someone is searching for you.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I force out the words before I can think them through. “I would like to stay with you, wherever you decide to go. I don’t know of any other place I want to be.”
“I’m not sure you know what that entails.”
“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t know,” I snap. “My parents have controlled my entire life. This decision is mine to make. If I have to step into Death someday, I’d like to think of you on the other side.”
Zarev hesitates, and I know my words must sound insane and a spur of the moment decision, but it took a man who breathes Death to show me what it’s like to live, and I won’t give it up. Even for Tressa. Certainly not for my parents. I’ve seen the walls outside of Tressa, the torment and suffering all over the land, and I don’t think I can ever look back.
The old Rapunzel is dead. The girl I am now won’t be locked up and forgotten in her tower again. I am worth being remembered as something more than magic and hair, and I am determined to see it through.
Zarev might be Death, but I’ll breathe life back into him so we can both have a happy ending.