But that is my Greta, mine alone. He cannot have her.
We’re quiet for several moments, both lost in thought. Then the king turns to me, his expression hardening. “Do you have another night in you or not? Can you save her?”
“I don’t. Set Greta free and be done with this foolishness.”
Conrad laughs, the sound exhausted. “She’s as much a prisoner as I.”
“Perhaps it’s time you take back your throne.”
“So I can give Greta to you? Thank her for visiting, wish her well with the elf who will be forced to hide her away like a scandalous secret? You can’t be together, not truly. You are wise enough to know that nothing but heartache and ridicule will cloak her if she stays with you.
“But if you give me one more night, another room of meaningless gold,” he continues, his eyes dark and hard, “I swear I will make her a queen.”
The words burn like red-hot embers in my core. He’s not entirely wrong. To protect our relationship, we will be forced to shun others, keep to ourselves, move to a land of snow and hardship.
But we will be together.
Is that enough?
It’s a wicked, doubtful thought, one that cuts like a knife from sternum to belly.
And what of future children? Though beloved to us, they would be neither human nor elf, belonging nowhere, shunned by everyone else.
Conrad sees the agonizing doubt play over my features and steps forward, his eyes earnest. “Think about it, elf. Think of all that I can offer her.”
All that an elf can’t. It’s unspoken but there.
He is a king, and I am a prince, but he has everything, and I have nothing.
If Greta married him, this man who saved her in the woods, the man who put stars in her eyes though she wouldn’t admit it, she could stay here, in the kingdom of her birth. She would want for nothing.
Memories play in my mind. She was taken with the human king that night. I would have to be a fool to have missed it.
Perhaps she’d be happy here.
“There’s one small detail you’re not factoring in,” I say after several long, gutting moments. “I haven’t enough magic left for another night. It will be spent, exhausted, and I’ll die before the task is complete.”
“If you don’t try, they will kill her. You might not see the bars, but Greta’s in a gilded cage, locked away. She belongs to them, and there is nothing you or I can do to free her.”
I weigh the options, the pendulum of decision swinging from left to right. My entire being rails against the seed of doubt the man has placed in my mind, but when I search for an alternative, I come up short. Greta’s surrounded by guards, in the heart of their fortress, and I am too weak to stage a rescue. Even now, my legs and eyes burn, longing for rest.
“You’re positive,” I say, hating myself for even considering it. “This is the last night? No more games?”
“The last night.”
It feels like a choice, but in truth, there’s only one path. If I don’t make the gold one final time, they’ll kill her. I could rescue her, sneak her away, but I have no idea how I would slip her from the castle. The palace guards may be mere humans, but they are humans skilled with blades of steel.
I don’t have time.
I don’t have time.
For one fleeting moment, I wonder if Bertrand would save her, storm the castle with elven warriors. But the idea is laughable. He may tolerate my affection for the girl, but he will not fight for her freedom, not the way I would. And I can save her myself if I can muster up enough magic for one more night.
I will gladly lay down my life so she can live. The final act of magic will kill me, but I will reach for the peace death brings with open arms. It’s better to die than watch her live her life beside another.
“Where are you going?” Conrad demands when I turn from him, heading toward a seldom-used gate in the castle wall.
“To rest. If I am going to turn another tower of straw into gold, I require sleep.”
“You’ll return? You’ll make the gold?”
“I’ll do it for her. Only her.” I look back, realizing he might serve a purpose after all. “I need something from you.”
“Are we bartering now?”
I ignore him. “Something gold, a trinket. I must have it to kindle the magic, and Greta’s few tokens are gone.”
He raises a single eyebrow, silently judging me. “You can make gold, but you can’t be bothered to bring something to get the process started?”
“It must be of the earth, not created by elven magic. Sometimes our gold will work, but most often the results are unfavorable.”
“Fine,” he says, requiring no further explanation. “I will bring you what you require.”
I give him a curt nod.
“Elf,” Conrad calls before I reach the gate. Reluctant, I turn back once more. He crosses his arms, tilting his jaw just slightly in the air. “I will take care of her. I give you my solemn vow.”
“You had better.”
Chapter 15
“Another night?” I gasp, feeling like I’m going to pass out.
Conrad raises a kingly eyebrow, questioning my outburst. Others watch, wondering how His Majesty will react. The king’s advisors look on, their expressions eager and greedy.
I turn my gaze to the floor, trying not to look at the massive, straw-covered room in front of me, and then softly admit, “I’m so tired.”
And it’s the truth. I’m exhausted from staying up all night and then playing pleasant guest while unsuccessfully trying to find a way to sneak off. I can’t imagine how Rune is doing. But perhaps he’s sleeping off his night, safe somewhere in the forest.
Conrad tilts my chin up, making me look at him. He wears that dazed expression, the one that gives me chills. “Gold in her eyes, deep pools of chocolate with flecks of pure….” He stares at me for a moment longer and then turns to a steward. “Tell the tailors to make her a dress of the spun gold. We’ll marry first thing in the morning.”
Marry in the morning?
The king frowns when I shiver, possibly mistaking my wide eyes and fluttering eyelashes for demure joy when I am, in truth, fighting back tiny pinpricks of black that mar my vision. He leans close, his lips near my ear. “No one will ever make you go through this again. Just this one last night.”
“I can’t,” I breathe, sinking to my knees in front of him to beg. I’ll lower myself if that’s what it takes. Rune was near the breaking point last night. I can’t ask this much of him.
Conrad catches me, pulling me up. The maids around us giggle like I’ve swooned in his arms. With the jerk of his head, the king sends our audience away. When they are gone, I attempt to free myself from his grasp, but he holds me firmly in place, his eyes clear once again. “One more night, and then the world is yours.”
I shake my head, and exhausted tears sting my eyes. “I don’t want the world.”
The king purses his lips, looking anxious for perhaps the first time. “One more night…and then I am yours.”
How do you a tell a king you don’t want him?
I draw in a shaky breath. “I can’t do it. Not for you, not for anyone. Please—let me go home.”
“I can’t do that.” Conrad finally releases me, making sure I’m steady before he steps away. “Your Father gave you to me. You are already mine.”
Conrad walks me to the spinning wheel and gently pushes my shoulders until I sit. He kneels, taking my hands.
Even in this state, it takes me by surprise. When does a king ever kneel before a peasant girl?
He searches my eyes, his dark gaze surprisingly earnest. “You must trust me, Greta. This is the last night.”
Rune finds me face down on the bed, sobbing.
“It will never end,” I cry, my face hidden in my arms.
The bed shifts as Rune sits next to me. He strokes my hair, silent. After several long minutes, I turn to him, not even bothering to hide my blotchy face. He looks as d
isheartened as I feel.
“And even if you had enough magic left to turn all this straw to gold”—I wave my arms about the room—“I have no gold to trade.”
Oddly, Rune’s eyes dart about the room. I follow them, wondering what he’s looking for.
It’s apparent he doesn’t find it. His beautiful molten eyes go hard, and he lets his head fall back.
Then he pulls the medallion from his neck. “Elven gold rarely kindles the magic, but we must try—”
I stop his hand, refusing to let him destroy the golden disk. “Not that.”
“There’s no other option…except…” He shakes his head, tossing whatever thought he had away.
I sit up, resting my weight on my palm. “Except what?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“What is it?” I demand, desperation clawing at me.
Suddenly, I remember what he told me at our creek, the day of Millicent’s wedding. Something worth more than gold.
“A promise,” I whisper.
“No.” His eyes flash, and he stands abruptly. “It’s not worth it, Greta.”
I narrow my eyes. “We’ll never be together if I’m dead.”
He whips around. “These promises, you’re not trading them with me. You’re trading them with my counsel, and they always come calling.” He rubs a hand over his temple. “And they always want something that’s too painful to give.”
Rising from the bed, I stride to him and clasp his wrists. “Please.”
“It’s not—”
“I wish to trade a promise.” As if entering a contract, I say the words as clearly as possible. “Ask whatever you wish of me.”
Rune looks like I’ve stabbed him. “You shouldn’t have.”
“But I did.”
He yanks the medallion from his neck as if it’s burning him. “I would have traded this long before I asked that of you.”
“That charm holds all of my love. I’m not destroying it.”
Sinking to the ground, Rune clasps the medallion and lowers his forehead into his hands. “You’ll wish you had.”
I’m about to argue further when there’s a noise at the door, a soft scraping against the stone.
We turn and find a white envelope lying on the floor.
“What can it be?” I murmur, rising. Rune stays on the bed, his posture stiff, his expression almost murderous.
I rip the simple wax seal and open the envelope, looking for a note. But there’s no parchment, no letter. Something heavy sits at the bottom, and I turn the whole thing over. A simple gold chain falls into my hand, nothing fussy or remarkable.
Frowning, I hold it up, letting it catch the evening light. Rune stands, his muscles lengthening like a cat woken from a nap, and strides across the room. He takes the chain and drops it in his palm, studying it. “One minute too late.”
Then, without another word, he heaves it across the room with a shout that startles me so badly, I stumble back several steps.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, my heart thrumming in my throat. “What does it mean?”
“Nothing,” he murmurs, trapping me against the door, defeat written all over his face. “It means nothing.”
I palm his cheeks, letting my hands slide over his jaw, to his neck. He tips his head back, his face anguished.
“Kiss me,” I murmur, terrified. “Please.”
His head snaps forward, and his eyes meet mine. I gulp, my heart a hummingbird in my chest.
“Have you ever been kissed, Greta?” he asks, somehow closer still. I swear he didn’t move.
“Who would kiss me if not you? Whose lips would I desire but yours?” His forest scent surrounds me, makes me yearn for more. “You have my heart; don’t you know that? Not as a friend cares for a friend, but as a girl loves a boy.”
He closes his eyes, a wry smile on his lips. “As a girl loves a boy?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
His hand finds its way to my cheek, and he strokes, his fingers infinitely gentle. “But as a woman loves a man?”
The words feel substantial. Less innocent.
When I don’t immediately answer, he says, “Tell me why you love me, Greta.”
“Because you are everything. My home. My heart. My life.”
“All I want is to be those things for you.” His expression softens. “Everything, always. Know that; never doubt it.”
Something in his tone strikes terror in my heart. It has me grasping him closer, clinging to him, scared to death he’s going to move away.
“Do you love me, Rune?” I ask, finally voicing the question that has tortured me for years. “Do you love me as I love you?”
He gives me a smile, one that would be teasing if we weren’t trapped in this tower, if the kingdom weren’t waiting for news of my death. “You have my heart. Don’t you know that?”
“Say it,” I beg. “Don’t tease me with my own words, don’t make light of it.”
Rune’s expression immediately goes solemn, and his hands find my waist. “I love you, Greta. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He pauses, his face etched with thought. “Even if that includes giving you up.”
I rear back as if slapped, hitting the back of my head on the door. “How could you say that?”
Rune’s hand immediately cups my scalp, gently soothing the area I cracked against the hard wood. “I need you to answer me something, something you won’t want to discuss.”
I stiffen under the gentle caress of his fingers. “What could you ask me that would make me shy away?”
“Is there any part of you, any small part, that is taken with the king?”
“No,” I immediately respond, but it’s a lie. A wretched, filthy lie.
And his eyes, so astute, see right through me.
“Rune,” I breathe, stepping forward. “I…there is something…but nothing—nothing at all—compared to the genuine, true, honest love I feel for you.”
“Affection,” he corrects. “The affection you feel for me. But do you love me?”
He’s so daft I want to strike him, lash out and make him take back the absurd statement. “How dare you—”
“I know the depth of the feelings you have—I do not doubt it. And if circumstances were different, if we’d married and run away, I truly believe I could have slowly won your heart, made you care for me as I so desperately care for you. But we have no time, and I will not steal a kiss from you, not when you so soon will belong to another.”
I want to break. I want to crumple to the floor, scream into the night. How can he say those things to me?
Then, as if it’s his mission to destroy me completely, Rune leans forward and kisses my forehead as though I am a child. “Do not hate me,” he whispers. He then tugs me toward the bed, urging me to sit, and begins the task of filling the room with cold, heartless strands of gold.
By some miracle, or by magic, I suppose, Rune transforms every scrap of straw before sunrise. When he’s finished, he collapses on the cold stone floor, too spent to even crawl to the bed. Though angry with him, I lie next to him, stroking his arm as I fight sleep myself.
“I can hear them down there,” he murmurs, “preparing for the ceremony.”
“You can hear them?” I ask, focusing on the wrong part of his words entirely.
He raises an eyebrow, a wry, heartbreaking smile on his face. “You’ll be a beautiful queen.”
I sit up, that anger flaming in my chest. “Do not speak if you are going to say things like that.”
With a low, agonized groan, he pulls himself up. “They’re coming to fetch you. They’ll be here any moment.” He brushes my cheek. “I have to leave.”
Panic builds, hot and fast. It tightens a knot in my stomach, crushes my lungs. “I’ll sneak away.”
He smiles—that sad, knowing smile that made me want to slap him only hours ago. The smile that makes me want to die.
“Rune…” Tears sting my eyes. They’re already drowning me from
the inside out, making me gasp for breath. “Please don’t leave me.”
His expression changes, becomes desperate. He’s too pale, his eyes listless. A new terror, not of being abandoned, but for his wellbeing pierces my core. It brings a halt to the selfish pain that cloaks me.
“Are you all right?” I demand, my hand on his shoulder. He looks drugged, exhausted, pushed far past the breaking point.
He turns to me, his hands finding my face. “This is it.”
“No.” I shake my head, refusing to listen to him. I cling to his arms when he wobbles; he looks too weak to even stand. “You’ll see. I’ll find you. And I’ll prove I already love you in every way you need and want.”
He leans down, resting more weight on me than I expect. “Don’t say things like that, not when I am defenseless.”
“Why?” I breathe, realizing his lips are so very close to mine.
“Because I’ll kiss you, and you’re not mine to kiss.”
“That is where you’re wrong.” Before he can stop me, I close the distance between us, pressing my mouth to his. It’s a clumsy thing, with it being my first and him not having a scrap of strength left. It’s neither passionate nor beautiful. It’s a goodbye—a crushing, shattering goodbye that freezes my heart. I cling to him, refusing to let him leave, and then keys sound in the lock.
I pull from Rune, stepping in front of him, shielding him with my body.
The door swings open. Conrad glances about the room, looking more than relieved to find the straw exchanged for gold, and then his eyes land on me. “I believe it’s a good day for a wedding.”
When I glance over my shoulder, Rune is gone.
Chapter 16
I stand, attempting not to fidget in my dreadfully uncomfortable wedding attire. I feel like a fool in front of half the kingdom, praying my bride doesn’t end up dead before the ceremony.
I’ve now officially been engaged five times, and four times my bride hasn’t lived to say her vows. But those four previous engagements have made me wise. I surrounded Greta with people—ladies to help her prepare. I hope the sheer number of females makes it impossible for someone to slip in and murder her. I hope they’ll keep the girl from hurting herself as well.
Queen of Gold and Straw: A Rumpelstiltskin Retelling Page 9
