Chapter 4 #2
Rapunzel closed her eyes. He deserved it, she told herself. He’d lied to her. He’d used her as a means to an end, toyed with her while he wanted some bloody alf girl instead, and …
A cry sounded downstairs. Alarm and shock and pain.
And she was running.
She hurtled down the stairs without thinking, stumbling and staggering without the familiar weight of her hair. No. No. Her living room emerged in flickering candlelight, the flames reflecting a thousand times in the crystals covering the walls, illuminating …
Blood.
So much blood.
And Egill’s body on the floor, his sword nowhere to be seen, his shirt torn to shreds by Gothel’s knives, his torso more wound than skin.
“Rapunzel!” Gothel’s voice came out like the lash of a whip. “I told you to stay—”
“No,” she cried, staggering forward. No, her thoughts echoed. There was blood in his hair, too—those silken locks she’d played with so many times. “No, you can’t—”
“Rapunzel, step aside.”
She didn’t step aside.
The acid in her guardian’s voice … it was nothing to her.
She fell to her knees beside him, blood soaking her dress. His gaze was glazed, but it was aimed at her without doubt, a faint light in his summer-sky eyes.
“Rapunzel?” It was barely a breath.
“No,” she sobbed, hands clutching his torn shirt, looking for something to stop the bleeding—but there was so little shirt, and so much blood, and even her gems were so very useless. “No—you idiot—why did you …”
“Look at me,” he whispered, voice frail like cobwebs. “Please, just … look … at …”
Because he loved her.
All she saw when she met those bright blue eyes, even through the mist of her tears—that desperate devotion in his gaze even as he lay dying, even as she’d betrayed him too.
“Gothel.” She didn’t take her eyes from his. “Gothel, please.”
“Don’t be a child,” her guardian snapped. “And for the very last time, before I make you step aside …”
Rapunzel did the last thing she could think of.
She pressed her palms against the floor and sent her magic into the tower with all her strength. Into the earth. Into the wide and unknown world beyond. Looking, begging for the source who’d once granted her those powers, who must be able to save him.
Daylight, the purest and brightest of it, exploded through the room.
And Orin’s deep, familiar voice rumbled, “What in hell is going on here, Gothel?”
“Save him!” Rapunzel blurted out before Gothel could speak, her voice soaring into a child-like plea. “Please, Lord Orin, it’s all been a—a misunderstanding! Please … I …”
I love him. But the god had already turned towards her from where he’d appeared in her living room, towering high over her, his silvery hair tousled, his good eye narrowed. Sunlight radiated off him in thick, swirling flickers of power, shrouding his tall figure in an otherworldly light.
As he flicked his hand at Egill, his moonstone eye flashed with lightning, and at once the blood was gone.
The wounds were gone.
And Egill rasped in a shaking breath and stared at the god with bewildered eyes, understanding dawning only slowly.
“This is the Gjalheim mongrel scheming to abduct her,” Gothel snapped, flinging her bloodied knife onto the floor. “He weaseled his way in, and poor Rapunzel fell for his lies. There’s no way we can leave him alone with her ever again.”
“Please,” Egill ground out. He’d gone ashen. “Please, I changed my mind about—”
Gothel scoffed. “That’s what I would say.”
“Please.” He scrambled up a fraction, his gaze shooting from Gothel’s black-and-crimson form to Rapunzel and lingering there.
“I changed my mind the first day I was here. I was just a coward. I didn’t dare tell Raghnar.
So I lied to him—told him I needed more time—but I never … I never truly wanted…”
Lied to him. Rapunzel’s heart clung to those words with desperate fierceness—to him. Not to her. So did that mean …
“Ah, Raghnar,” Orin said, and his chuckle sounded like earth and sky and all the riches in the world.
“I need to do something about that one, it appears. Thought he might kill himself soon enough if I ignored the problem, but I’ll be magnanimous and make an effort for him.
” He cocked his head at Rapunzel. “And it appears hiding you at the end of the world wasn’t quite enough yet to protect you.
I’ll have to find another solution—perhaps we should simply convince them all you’re merely a myth.
An annoying chore, but that’s what I get for being so careless with my magic, isn’t it? ”
Rapunzel stared at him, blinking. He nodded at Egill and sighed.
“You don’t seem desperate to get rid of this fellow, though.”
“No,” she said breathlessly, grabbing Egill’s hand. His fingers were too cold, but he squeezed back with familiar firmness. “Please, Lord Orin.”
Orin scratched his short beard, sending Egill a sharp-edged glare. “He does seem a bit of an idiot, though?”
“Well,” Rapunzel said quickly, “I’m clever enough for the both of us, aren’t I?”
Gothel scoffed, but Orin chuckled and added, “And I’m not much inclined to trust him. I’m not going through the pain of changing a few thousand memories about you only for him to spread the word of that entire diamond mine you just created outside next week.”
“I don’t care about any diamonds,” Egill said hoarsely. “Please, I’ll swear whatever oaths you need, I’ll—”
“Oaths.” Orin seemed amused. “Like the one to Raghnar you’re currently breaking?”
Egill paled, looking less like that arrogant champion than ever before. “I broke my oaths only for her. I’d do anything for her. If I need to beg you …”
“Oh, begging is easy,” Orin said absently, the gems on his rings scattering the candlelight as he waved that offer away. “Don’t you have anything better?”
For a moment, all was silent.
Then Egill whispered, “Take Heartfall. Take my sword.”
Rapunzel froze. So did Gothel. But Orin only cocked his head, his moonstone eye glittering. “Your sword?”
“I …” Egill let out a mirthless laugh. “Well, I don’t need weapons to tell myself how wonderful I am as long as Rapunzel wants me here, do I?”
Orin didn’t answer.
But he smiled.
And before Gothel could even scoff, both of them were gone, leaving behind nothing but a faint rumble of magic and a single bloody knife on the floor.
The sword Egill had left outside was gone, they found as they made their way to the window in dazed silence. So was Rapunzel’s braid. But when they ran down the stairs to see what else had changed, they found a new staircase to the ground floor and a low doorway leading outside.
For the first time in fifteen years, Rapunzel felt grass under her feet.
For the first time in fifteen years, she looked up at the stars right above her, the constellations so new and so familiar at once.
They curled up in the grass together, Egill’s arms warm against the chill of the night, both of them quiet until he said, “I came back to tell you everything.”
“In that case,” Rapunzel said, resting her head against his shoulder, “you may be a little less of an idiot than I thought.”
He chuckled. “Only a little less.”
“Of course,” she said dreamily. “You’ll always be my arrogant fool, Lord Not-So-Favorite. Some things just shouldn’t change.”
“Such as my love for you?” he muttered into her hair. “Or my resolve to stay with you for the rest of our years? Or my plans make you come a dozen times in my arms tonight?”
“Hmm.” She curled tighter against his chest. “You suddenly sound unexpectedly wise. I’m not opposed to this new development.”
He laughed and kissed her. Then made slow love to her under the starry mountain sky.
And some things never changed.
Looking for more morally grey men and angry women bowling them over? Check out the completed Fae Isles quartet, starting with Court of Blood and Bindings.