by Jack Heckel
Lady Rapunzel gasped in shock, and tears welled in her eyes. “The Prince? No! Forgive me, had I known . . . I am terribly sorry . . .”
She reached out for him, and the King watched himself first clasp and then pat her hand before releasing it, but he could not feel the touch. Some courtly reflex made him respond. “You could not know, as it was only a day hence that I . . . I . . .” killed him, he finished silently. Only a deep sigh marked the thought. “It doesn’t matter. The fact is that the Prince will not return. Yet another reason I need the Lord Protector with me at the castle. You will take the news of his safe return to Lady Elizabeth at your family’s country estate and bring her back to Castle White. Now, if you will allow me, I am tired and need to rest.”
Lady Rapunzel took the dismissal with remarkable grace. Without hesitation, she lifted the red hood back over her hair and replied, “Of course, you must be exhausted, Your Majesty. If, however, I may beg your indulgence, Your Grace. I have been trapped in this beastly carriage for two days, and would dearly like to ride a while in the fresh air. May I be excused?”
In a single stroke, Lady Rapunzel had not only accepted her dispossession with aplomb, but also relieved him of the responsibility of evicting her. The King nodded his approval. She rose, and, despite the tight confines of the carriage, managed a respectful curtsy. Will stood with her, but too quickly, and slammed his head into the roof of the coach. This time he managed not to curse. Rapunzel covered his fumble by putting out her hand to him. “Lord Protector, would you help me down?”
The squire, who must have been standing just outside, opened the door of the carriage and dazzling sunlight flooded the little compartment. While they had debated and discussed, the skies had cleared, and outside the afternoon sky was a crisp blue traced through with linen-sharp streaks of white. That the rains were gone assuaged the King’s guilt a little. When the door shut behind Will and Rapunzel, the King fell back into the lonely twilight of his grief and wept for his lost son.
WILL BLINKED AT the brilliant sky and stepped onto the wet road. As he helped Lady Rapunzel descend, Will suddenly became very aware of her hand in his. A hint of flowers floated in the air around her, not roses like Princess Gwendolyn but something else . . . jasmine. The perfume reminded him of home, where a vine of jasmine had climbed the wall outside his bedroom window. He found himself holding her hand for a moment even after she had stepped onto the road. She favored him with a smile of surprise and a blush of color, so swift, that he wondered after she turned away if he had imagined it.
She walked toward the head of the coach, and he had a chance to admire the waist of her traveling dress and the long flow of swishing skirt that followed. Perhaps she felt his eyes on her, because she glanced back, and when she saw him looking, she adjusted the hood of her traveling cloak, pulling it further down over her face. Will pretended to be in deep contemplation of his mud-crusted boot.
Alone for the moment, he considered Rapunzel. What a change from the ball. She was still overly opinionated and quick to anger, but there was something about her that made his throat catch every time he tried to talk to her. Sadly, he reminded himself, she was unlikely to be favorably disposed toward him, given their argument. He replayed the conversation in the coach and winced.
By the time he had reviewed and regretted all the stupid things he’d said, the carriage was moving away, and the Royal Herald was scrambling to mount up and follow. “I must hurry,” the man exclaimed dramatically. “The King cannot possibly travel without being properly announced.”
Meanwhile, Tomas had taken a small cloth pavilion out of one of Rapunzel’s many trunks, and was assembling it on the glittering green grass of a nearby field. Will wandered over to the squire and watched as he drove the last peg into the ground. “What is that for?”
“Haven’t you ever traveled with a Lady, Will? She’s going to need to change into her riding clothes, and she’s not about to do that out in the open so you can ogle her in her all-natural. Not that you’d mind, I’d reckon, given how you’ve been staring after her.”
Will’s cheeks flamed. Tomas gave a low, knowing chuckle, and then stalked off toward Rapunzel. “Now I know why Charming always called him a gnarled hobgoblin,” Will muttered to himself.
Will was still mumbling to himself when Lady Rapunzel arrived. He tried to transform—midword—his unintelligible mutterings into a song so she would not think him mad. The curled smile that followed told him that it hadn’t worked. Still smiling, she stepped into the small enclosure to begin changing. Will turned to leave.
“Lord William, would you stay?”
He turned back and saw the cloth wall of the tent flutter. The opening gaped for a moment and Will glimpsed the outline of her body silhouetted within. He turned away and managed a throaty, “Yes . . . yes . . . of course.”
Will looked about for Tomas, but the man had vanished entirely, so he gazed up at the clouds, then down at the wet grass, and wondered how pretty girls always made him feel so uncomfortable. And then he realized . . . Lady Rapunzel was pretty—very pretty, and funny, and—
“Are you listening to me?” She sounded as if she had been repeating herself.
Will dared to glance over. Her face was visible in the flap of the pavilion and she had that same annoyed look that Liz always had when he had been thinking too much. “What?” he asked, feeling awkward.
“I said, I want to know what happened to Prince Charming—and this may be our only chance to talk without the King being present. So, tell me how he died. Our last meeting may not have gone well, but I always felt that the prince was . . . well, invulnerable.”
“Oh, he didn’t really die.”
“What?” she asked and stuck her head out even farther. Will caught a glimpse of a bare shoulder and shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. Lady Rapunzel stared at him like he had sprouted a second head. “What is wrong with you?”
He spluttered incoherently and pointed at her and the tent. She looked down at the slight opening and smiled a cunning smile. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
Will blushed yet again and nodded mutely.
“How sweet.” Her eyes danced with pleasure as she looked at him appraisingly. “You and your sister both have the most marvelous color when you blush. She might have mentioned it when we were talking about you. It’s really quite becoming.”
This comment only made him blush deeper. It was completely unfair for Liz to talk to other women about him, especially now that he was Lord Protector. He had a reputation, or something like that, to maintain.
Lady Rapunzel’s lilting voice interrupted his thoughts again. “If I must be dressed for you to talk to me, then I will finish.”
She disappeared back inside the tent. Several moments passed, the tent flap open, and out stepped Lady Rapunzel, mercifully dressed in her riding skirts. It was an elegant costume only ruined by the addition of a bulky cloak that did not seem to match. Adjusting the hood over her head, she said, “I think it will be safe for you to talk now.”
He stammered something idiotic and she giggled, a delightful sound. Their eyes met. Had her eyes always been such a brilliant green? She was a woman, and beautiful, but there was also something different about her. She was more familiar, more real than the Princess. She had a little of the tavern girl in her. It reminded him of the best parts of Gretel, how she would pull him into the storeroom for a quick kiss, or slap him when he was too forward.
“Now, I mean no disrespect, Lord Protector, but Liz told me you could be, well, vague, so please tell me what happened to the Prince?”
He hesitated, not sure exactly what to say. Was he betraying the King’s confidence somehow to speak of it? As he paused, her expression grew harder, and he realized with horror that he was, in fact, being vague. But it was so hard to concentrate when she was pursing her very red lips like that.
She tilted her head. “Did you hear me? I asked you what happened. Why does the King say the Prince is dead, and yet you say he is not? And, if he’s not dead, why is the King acting like a man that has lost his child? And, what in heaven’s name is he not telling me?”
Will opened his mouth to answer the first question, and then closed it again when he decided it made more sense to answer the second first, and then repeated the performance when he realized he had no idea how to answer the third question at all. She stamped her foot on the ground, which was really adorable, and the hood slipped off her head. As she said something else, he found himself admiring the way her short hair curled about her ears and framed her face.
She reached up to adjust her hood again, “Please, Lord Protector.”
The earnestness of her plea brought him up short and made him realize what an ass he was being. “I apologize, Lady Rapunzel. Let me begin by swearing that, as far as I know, the Prince still lives. He and the King had a falling out and the King has disowned him.”
If possible, this seemed to shock her even more. She let the hood fall back again and instead started absent-mindedly tucking the stray ends of her hair behind her ears.
“I never imagined. Charming was conceited and a fool, but I never thought the King would do such a thing.” She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “There is more to this than the story you’ve told, probably more than you or I know. Perhaps the court has been putting pressure on King Rupert.”
Elle stood, lost in quiet contemplation of some intrigue, which Will didn’t quite follow. It was clear that Lady Rapunzel was a thoughtful woman, like his sister. But she was also pretty, much prettier than Gretel, and he realized in an instant—even prettier than the Princess. He found himself, again, distracted by her and furtively admiring more than just her intelligence.
“I know you’re not listening to me anymore, so what are you thinking about?” she asked. It was an accusation.
Will paused and swallowed. He had been caught ogling her, and he knew there was nothing to be done because, if he took the time to think of something clever to say, she would know. But even the time he’d taken to consider whether to consider what to say, seemed to have taken too long, because she stepped toward him, hands on hips.
“I confess that I was just thinking that you are smart like my sister, but prettier than any girl I’ve ever known,” he blurted. His hand twitched, demanding that he bite it, and Will felt the blush hit his face and burn incredibly hot. He closed his eyes, awaiting the brutal tongue-lashing that he would surely receive. Why am I so bad at this?
After a pause, Will opened his eyes to see Rapunzel’s emerald eyes staring into his. They glistened with unshed tears, making them even more beautiful, and there was a pale confusion on her face.
ELLE’S HEAD WAS a muddle of half-formed thoughts. He thinks I’m smart? That’s a first—for a man. And he thinks I’m pretty, even though he’s seen my hair? Could he actually be interested in me? She had been having such a good time with Lord William, but she had also thought him far out of her league and certain to think her a lunatic after her behavior at the ball. But he hasn’t mentioned the ball once, and he doesn’t even seem to be aware that I ever had long hair or to be concerned that I threw my virtue at Prince Charming. And, when you come to it, he’s not bad-looking. Granted, he was impossibly vague and obnoxiously stubborn, but he was also honest and kindhearted—two qualities that were hard to find in courtly men. Indeed, she had been taught from an early age that at court romance and intrigue were always intertwined, and that every encounter with a man was a contest of wits, with disgrace and ruin the punishment for losing—at least if you were a woman. This felt different, just a boy and a girl talking to each other.
Still, standing there with him looking at her like that, she didn’t know what to say. She’d had a lifetime of being told that she should set her expectations low, and praised, on those rare occasions when she was praised, only for her looks, and, truth be told, mostly for her hair. In the moment, words couldn’t find their way past her lips. She stood and gaped. Tears fell across her cheeks, and she reached up to brush them aside.
Will’s face went white. He murmured, “I . . . I am sorry I upset you. I will fetch Tomas to see to your needs while I ride ahead.”
She watched helplessly as he turned and nearly ran from the field, not knowing what to say, and unsure that she would be able to speak if she did know what to say.
Eventually, Tomas sauntered over and found her still standing as Will had left her. With a tip of his cap he began readying her horse. “Lord William’s ridden ahead to make sure the King is alright. Won’t be a moment, Lady Rapunzel, and we’ll have you on your way also.”
When the horse was ready, she mounted, still trying to figure out how she was going to explain things to Lord William. She knew it was silly, but she’d spent so many years trading on her legendary hair, and the reputation for beauty it lent her, that she simply couldn’t believe that he—no, that anyone—but particularly someone in his position, might take the time to see that there was more to her. She hadn’t come up with anything approaching a reasonable plan when she turned a bend in the road and found the procession mired to the axles in mud.
She pulled the horse to a halt and surveyed the scene. The carriage was well and truly stuck. Her driver and her footman were gathered about the back end trying to the pry the thing onto solid ground. And there, standing knee deep in the muck, was Lord William.
Although Elle admired the way the muscles of Lord William’s broad back moved beneath the thin cloth of his undershirt, it was the unlikely nature of his presence there in the mud that held her gaze. She knew that for anyone from the court it would be unthinkable that a lord of the realm, much less the Lord Protector and likely the next King, would place himself in such an undignified position. Yet Elle was sure that Lord William had not thought a moment before trying to help.
And, in a sudden rush, Elle knew she wanted to be just as thoughtless. She dismounted and strode over to where he was pushing against a tree branch to lever the carriage up. She lifted her skirt and stepped into the mud beside him.
“Lady Rapunzel? But . . .” Will said, eyes wide.
“But nothing. Let’s move this carriage!” She put her shoulder against the wheel and pushed. She wasn’t sure whether her efforts made any difference, but her attempt seemed to inspire Will. The veins rose beneath his flesh, his muscles flexed, he flushed a deep purple, and the carriage rolled free.
Unfortunately, as it moved, Elle felt her feet slip in the mud and her legs go out from under her. But instead of ending up face-first in the muck, she found herself in Will’s strong arms.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“My pleasure,” he said, and set her effortlessly onto the road.
The King’s voice reached out from within the carriage. “Well done, Lord Protector.”
Will stepped out of the mire, wiped his hands on his breeches, and moved toward the door of the carriage. He paused to look at Elle. She favored him with her best smile, and he gave her a broad muddy grin in return.
OVER THE NEXT two days, Will and Elle never found a single moment to be alone. There was always something in the way—usually the Royal Herald. After the third time the Royal Herald boomed out, “Lord Protector and Dragon Slayer William Pickett approaches Lady Rapunzel for a private tête-à-tête!” or “Lady Rapunzel wishes a personal interview with his Lordship William Pickett—alone!” Will and Elle gave up. So, when they reached the fork in the road that would take Elle to her family’s estate and Will to the castle and his destiny, they had not had a chance to exchange anything much more personal or significant than “Good day, Lady Rapunzel” or “Good morning, Lord Protector.”
As Rapunzel was bidding goodbye to the King, and Will was helping to move Elle’s luggage from the carriage to one of the packhorses, they bo
th realized that their moment was slipping away.
Something had to be done.
After mounting her horse, Elle screwed up her courage, favored Will with a glance, and dropped her lace handkerchief in such a way that he was bound to see it fluttering to the ground. Unfortunately, Will took this moment to look down at the dirt between his feet and chew on his thumb. Elle cursed under her breath, but anything else she might do would be wanton and make her appear desperate. In defeat, she pulled her hood into position over her head, turned her horse toward home and spurred it to a slow walk.
By the time Will had figured out the words he wanted to say to her, Rapunzel and her servants were turning around a bend in the road. He felt his heart sink into his stomach. She hadn’t even said goodbye. He had a sure feeling that he had missed his opportunity.
The King leaned out of the carriage and pointed to a speck of delicate white cloth. “Lord Protector, I believe Lady Rapunzel dropped her handkerchief. Would you return it to her?”
Before Will could say yes, the King signaled the driver and the borrowed carriage continued its journey to Castle White. As it rolled away, Will could clearly hear the King inside muttering something about “young idiots.” Silently agreeing, he sprinted across the road, plucked the handkerchief from the ground, and jumped on his horse.
“Lady Rapunzel! Lady Rapunzel!”
A thrill of relief rushed through Elle as she heard Will’s voice. She reined her horse to a stop. Will brought his mount beside hers. She briefly bowed her head and then looked up into his eyes. She let her gaze linger.
They both waited for the other to speak.
“Lord Protector . . .”
“Lady Rapunzel . . .”
They both said together, “Please you go first.”
Another silence followed.
Will wanted to tell her that being in her company the last few days had been like a fairy tale—even if it had been a fairy tale with an insufferably overbearing Royal Herald as the narrator—and that he hoped the fairy tale would go on and on to its inevitable happily ever after. When he finally spoke all he managed was, “I . . . I . . .”
