by Laura Kenyon
She trailed off and watched her friend’s reflection in the window. After a few seconds, Rapunzel’s frown started to soften and she moved to the empty space beside Belle.
“Ethan and I slept in separate rooms last night,” she finally said. “I didn’t know what else to do. He lied to me, which should be the end of it. But the thought of losing him gives me this awful, suffocating feeling in my chest. I honestly don’t know what to do. I’ve never been in this situation before.”
“Do you think you’re going to forgive him?”
They caught each other’s eyes in the window. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. Should I?”
“I’m really not the best person to ask for relationship advice,” Belle said, reluctant to say too much. She’d blamed herself the first time Rapunzel and Ethan broke up, after Letitia’s anniversary gala. She really didn’t want any part in round two. So instead of saying, I think he was trying to protect you, she hopped into the passenger seat and asked, “Did he give you an explanation?”
It must have been the right question, because Rapunzel flew into an instant tizzy, ranting about Ethan’s fear of Grethel, fear of losing his sight again, fear of losing her, fear of burdening her, and so on.
“Why can’t I find a guy like Gray?” she asked, wearing a path in the floor. “Seriously, a man psychologically unafraid of anything? Want to trade?”
Belle let out a puff of air but refused to turn the spotlight on her and Gray. She wouldn’t know where to begin.
“The killer,” Rapunzel continued, “is that I totally understand everything he did.”
“You do? So isn’t that your—”
“I understand all of his reasons, and I probably would have done the exact same thing.”
“Then what’s the—”
“But what kills me is the fact that he lied about it so well. He’s a good liar. And I don’t like feeling this vulnerable with someone who’s a good liar.”
Belle sucked on her cheeks a bit, unsure whether to remind her that this shouldn’t have been a new realization—that Ethan had lied about his identity months ago, when he pretended to be someone completely new to her life rather than the bloke who failed to save her from that tower years earlier.
“Ugh!” Rapunzel let out an enraged grunt and stomped the floor. “I love the bastard, but ugh!”
Belle swallowed her laugh and decided not to dwell on the fact that Rapunzel Delmonico had just announced that she was actually in love with someone. She knew exactly what love could do to a person’s sanity. Plus, if Rapunzel was approaching thirty-six hours without sex—possibly even longer—she was already teetering on a very dangerous emotional precipice.
“So did he tell you where Grethel is yet?”
Rapunzel stopped dead in her tracks, whirled around, and stared at Belle so fiercely she felt a chill. “Yeah. And you’re gonna love this,” she said, crossing her arms, spreading her feet wide, and holding her breath for dramatic effect. “Grethel’s top secret location is all the way on the other side of the world … in Stularia. We’re flying there—the two of us—first thing in the morning.”
“Are you worried?” Belle asked.
“Worried?’
“About Grethel?”
Rapunzel gave a slow, half-hearted nod, then shook her head. “Not as worried as I am about facing my third celibate night in a row.” She uncrossed her arms, looked at her watch, and scooped up her bag. “But anyway. I really should get going.” She gave Belle a giant hug, but there was something a little rigid about it. “Airport check-in’s at noon and I still have to pack. But first—” She held one finger in the air, scurried to the door, and opened it to reveal two more bags. “Just a few more goodies for the little guy.”
Belle’s jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh, you’re going to spoil him rotten.”
“Eh, well. Consider it amends for not throwing you a baby shower. Not yet anyway.”
Rapunzel swung both bags onto the bed and undid the zippers. A mountain of toys and books gushed out. Thank God Rapunzel hadn’t visited before Hazel showed up. “He’s probably too young, but they say you should read to babies as early as possible. And these are all good ones—my favorites as a kid. Yes, Grethel read to me. Only the best for our little … say, does he have a name yet?”
Belle squinted. She really did like Rye. It was unique but still familiar. It had a strong sound. And according to the book Kirsten had brought in, it did mean king.
“I’m working on it,” she said. “But what do you think of Rye?”
Rapunzel’s eyebrows arched together. “As in the bread? It’s okay. So long as kids don’t connect crybaby to Rye-baby. You have to consider that stuff too.”
Belle opened her mouth to argue, but then changed her mind.
“Oh, one last thing,” Rapunzel said, spinning on her heels and lifting a velvet pouch from her purse. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I swung by the prison to see if I could charm my way into the evidence locker and nab Donner’s ring.”
“Are you serious? You’re nuts!”
“Yes, and already acknowledged.” Rapunzel smirked and jiggled the bag until a silver bracelet slipped out. “But no such luck. Not with the evidence locker and not with his zip-top bag of belongings.” She looked up and gave a reassuring smile. “But it’s okay. Gray will find them. He won’t stop until he does.”
Belle sucked on her cheek. “You said that already.” She nodded towards the bracelet. “So what’s that?”
Rapunzel shrugged and guessed that it was supposed to be a gift from Donner to Belle the night everything went haywire. “Want it?” she asked, extending her hand.
Belle recoiled and held up her palm. “No way,” she said. “You take it. Or throw it down a garbage disposal for all I care. His days of dressing me up are over.”
Rapunzel gave a proud smile, zipped the bracelet into her purse, and pulled Belle into one last embrace. “I really do need to run,” she said, giving Belle strict instructions to stay in the hospital for as long as she wanted (“screw Hazel Wickenham”) and to say as little as possible during Matilda Holt’s interview. “Talk about rebuilding the Phoenix,” she said. “Talk about how pretty the leaves are this time of year. Talk about how you can’t wait to put on decent looking clothes again in four months.” She sucked her cheeks in and narrowed her eyes, as if this next statement disagreed with her stomach. “And if you truly believe Hazel won’t help unless you publicly forgive Donner, do it in as few words as possible. You’re not the world’s best liar, and I have a feeling Angus will be watching everything you do like a hawk.”
Chapter Nine
DAWN
Even after eleven years at Regian Castle, Dawn still wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing or a curse that she couldn't see Selladóre from her balcony. In the beginning, its absence had certainly made her introduction to this new world more difficult. But as people in today’s era liked to say, out of sight also meant out of mind—eventually, anyway. But in facing away from Selladóre, the glass platform jutting off the castle’s east side got a wide lateral view of the Regian Woods—and, by default, of Davin.
Not that she could actually see his enchanted, cloaked estate from such an elevation. But she knew it was there. And at six thirty Monday morning—not long after Hunter had dragged himself out of bed, stumbled into the shower, and trudged out the door offering up nothing but a curt, “Ten thirty,” reminder—this was enough.
Enough for what, she wasn’t entirely sure. But there she was, nursing her coffee, leaning into the railing, and trying to identify the exact spot where Davin’s mansion sat beneath the trees. This was less because she regretted her decision to let him go, than it was because she missed the excitement. She missed having a secret life that she believed at the time to be completely justified. She missed the frozen river, the branches coated in crystals, the breathtaking garden with the luminescent flowers, and the vines that hung on nothing but the air.
In the still, morning air,
she thought about how tremendously things had changed in a matter of weeks. She thought about how a month ago, she wouldn’t have cared if Hunter stopped trying to touch her, stopped acting as if they were actually in love.
But that was before her past came back to life. Before it stepped into the bright, unforgiving light of the present and her present stepped out of the shadows. It was before Hunter transitioned from neglectful business tycoon to doting family man, and Dawn realized she actually could be happy in this life—seconds before a swift wallop of reality sent it crashing down.
Dawn jumped, then squinted, thinking she saw a flash of light coming from somewhere in the forest. Was Davin there now? Was he watching her? Had he just been upset the other night or did he truly mean the things he said: That she was selfish. That she was afraid. That she chose Hunter because he was the safer choice. That she was too damaged to gamble even for the sake of love.
She shook her head, then became aware of a warm feeling emanating from her chest. No, a hot feeling. Hot and wet.
She looked down and cursed, yanking her mug upright.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
Dawn whipped around to see her ten-year-old daughter’s face peeking out from the sliding glass door. Morning took a quick look at the brown oval growing across the center of her mother’s robe, scampered back inside, and returned a moment later carrying a blue dishtowel.
“Thanks sweetheart,” Dawn said, smiling as she accepted the towel and pressed it into her chest. If there was any doubt that she’d made the right call, here was the living, breathing proof. “But what are you doing awake? You guys don’t have to be up for another hour. Are you going in early for extra help again?”
Morning shook her head and hiked a yellow quilt around her shoulders. Then she climbed into the nearest glider and brought her knees up to her chest. “I couldn’t sleep. Day’s snoring.”
Dawn started to laugh, but something about Morning’s expression made her stop—that, and the realization that she’d never once heard her son snore. She lowered the dishtowel and sat on the other half of the glider.
“Are you okay, Mom?” Morning asked, resting a dainty little hand on her mother’s.
Dawn immediately tensed up and sucked the air in, preparing for the follow-up questions: Are you and Daddy fighting? Does it have to do with that man who came to dinner? Are you getting divorced?
“I’m perfectly fine, sweetie,” she said, patting Morning’s bright orange curls against her ears. They sprung back out as soon as she let go.
“But what about you?” she asked, debating her next statement. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
Morning scrunched her nose and shoved her face back into the blanket. Ready, set, go. “I do talk to you,” she replied, the defensive tone of her voice signaling otherwise.
Dawn nodded, once again amazed that this sweet, smart, beautiful creature had come from her. She saw Morning as the embodiment of life—with her unruly hair; her cheerful, speckled cheeks; her perfectly pinched nose; and her huge green eyes, in which a tempest was currently brewing. Morning probably thought she had a magnificent poker face, but Dawn could see her worries spilling out everywhere—in her crinkled brow, her tightened lips, her drawn-in shoulders. She let a minute pass, and then asked if anything had happened at school.
Morning shook her head vigorously, as if trying to shake the curls right off her head. Dawn pried her up on one side and pulled her closer.
“Come on. You can trust me,” she pressed. “And you know I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Morning crossed her arms and pulled the blanket tighter. “You can’t fix it anyway.”
“Are you sure?” Hair stroke.
“Yes, Mom. There’s only one person who can fix it.”
Dawn squinted. One person. Was it a boy? She’d suspected for some time now that Morning had a crush on Cinderella’s oldest son. But she’d never actually said it. How precious. How momentous. How … her childhood with Davin came rushing back … how agonizing.
“One person?” Dawn repeated, hoping to coax rather than nag her daughter into divulging more information. “Well, considering I’m technically three hundred and twenty-eight years old and they say wisdom comes from age … are you sure it’s not me?”
Morning made a face—a half leery, half pitying face. Then, a couple seconds later, she looked up. Her eyebrows rose. Her lips parted but no sound came out.
“Talk to me,” Dawn tried again. “Even if you’re right and I can’t fix it, what harm is there in letting me try?”
Morning pressed her hands between her knees and leaned forward. Dawn reached out to rub her palm along the top of her back. Even when her daughter was a toddler, with barely any surface area and not an ounce of stress, this always calmed her down. “You’re such a beautiful, sweet, smart girl,” she said. “Any boy who doesn’t see that is—”
“Ugh!” Morning bounced up from the glider. It flew forward, taking her mother with it. “Is that what you think this is about? A boy?”
Dawn cleared her throat and climbed back into the seat. All of her words seemed stuck somewhere between the throat and sternum.
“Seriously Mom. Maybe that’s all you cared about back when you were my age, but girls today have much more important things to worry about.”
Dawn nodded. “Of course they do. I just …” She shrugged. “Sorry, I just thought this was going to be the talk I’ve always heard so much about.”
“The talk?”
“Yes, you know, the talk.”
Morning stared back at her, hands on her hips and the blanket falling over her right forearm. In that moment, Dawn could see both the infant she nursed years ago and the woman she was going to become. That’s ridiculous, she was saying with her huge green eyes. I probably know more than you about sex, anyway. All you did to win Daddy’s heart was purse your lips and fall asleep.
“I’m not worried about a boy,” Morning said, chewing on her lips as soon as the words were out. Then, an exhale. “Fine. If you absolutely must know, I’m worried about you and Daddy.”
Dawn froze. She knew about Davin. Her wonderful, innocent, ten-year-old daughter knew that her mother had betrayed them and that her parents were on the verge of complete collapse. Letting Hunter take them yesterday afternoon had been a mistake. Her absence had drawn suspicion. How was she ever going to rectify this? How was she going to have the adult relationship she’d always dreamed about with her daughter? How was she—
“Everyone at school is saying you and Daddy are being fired. Is that true?”
Dawn’s head twisted in a way that made her suddenly dizzy. “What? No, that’s not even—”
“They say the people are turning against you and are going to vote to end the monarchies soon. They say Cinderella isn’t coming back from her vacation, and Donner is going to jail, and the prime minister is going to take over all the thrones permanently. Does that mean we’ll have to move out of the castle and live in a house? Can we even afford a house? Please don’t tell me I’ll have to share a room with Day. He farts in his sleep all the time—and on purpose sometimes too. I’ve smelled it. I can’t live like that.” Morning’s voice was racing. Her face was almost as red as her hair. “I can’t,” she said again, shaking her head. “I can’t. I—”
Dawn’s arms were around her daughter before her heels even touched the floor. She could feel Morning’s heart slamming through her chest as they pressed together.
“Hey,” Dawn said, stroking her curls and blowing calming shushing sounds between the assurances. “It’s okay. Nobody’s losing anything—jobs, rooms, or otherwise.” She ushered Morning onto a cushioned bench—stationary this time—and pulled the quilt back over her. “This is just what happens before elections.”
Morning looked up and sniffled.
“It is?”
Dawn nodded.
“Even the unimportant ones? When it’s not for prime minister?”
&
nbsp; Dawn stifled a laugh. “Members of Parliament are still important. And there are other things to vote on each year besides people—like budgets and laws and—”
“And whether or not to get rid of the monarchies.”
“No,” Dawn said, suddenly in negotiating mode. “That’s not on the ballot.”
“Yet. It’s not on the ballot yet, but the kids at school—”
“The kids at school don’t know what they’re talking about,” Dawn blurted, with significantly more force than intended. She swallowed and inhaled. “The kids at school are only repeating what they hear their parents say, and they don’t know what they’re talking about either.”
“But Jenny’s the smartest girl in my class and even she says—”
“Morning,” Dawn interrupted, hoping to settle this once and for all, “nothing is going to happen to us. You and Day and Daddy and I have many, many, many more years left in this castle.” Her eyes darted toward the sky, begging the universe not to make her a liar. “And Marestam is not going to get rid of the monarchies. We’re part of the Constitution. There have always been a few outliers wanting to go full democracy—just like there are people who want no government at all and people who think we should have barcodes instead of names.”
Morning made a sour face, then rolled her eyes. “You’re making that up. How would you even say a barcode?”
Dawn smiled and shook her head. “Cross my heart, there are people who believe that.”
Morning let her weight fall further into her mother. Dawn melted like a stick of butter at the height of summer. She closed her eyes, rested her chin against her daughter’s forehead, and made a solemn vow to mend her family no matter what the cost. They sat this way for a good ten minutes, listening to the birds and watching the sunrise over Regian’s eastern coast. The last thing Dawn wanted was for this moment to end. But, as she’d learned too many times over the past few weeks, nothing lasted forever.
