I stood, slowly padding to the window, dizzy from the slap. When I reached the window, I dug my fingers into the sill to keep from falling and scanned the shadows for the telltale flicker of blue. To no avail.
“They were just there,” I said, sighing.
“There is nothing there.” Mother’s voice was flat and cold.
“But I saw them,” I said, knowing I had seen the bugs before. I had seen the bugs, as well as the boy. Both were real. “They appeared to me to be dancing…it was so magical, I could not help but laugh.”
Mother merely glared out the window.
My heart hammered once more, but for very different reasons this time. I prayed the boy was smart enough to stay out of sight until Mother was gone.
It seemed an extremely long time that Mother examined the night sky, looking for lightning bugs.
“They are gone.” She turned back to me.
“They were just there.” I stepped away from her, trying to not seem to be doing so, even though inside my heart slammed in my chest. “Who can guess the path of a bug?”
There was a long silence as Mother examined me, then she seemed to relent. “Who indeed?” She crossed the room to the door, pausing as she opened it. She studied me before speaking, and the intensity of her stare made me shiver. “I am leaving tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mother,” I said, though disappointment welled in my chest. I did not want to be left alone again so soon.
Mother made to go through the door, then paused once more. “Rapunzel?”
“Yes?” I said, my heart leaping as suddenly as it had fallen. Perhaps this time she would stay. Perhaps she would allow me to accompany her…
“Fix your hair,” Mother said. “You are a mess.”
I nodded, though all desire to fuss with my hair was gone and my head still throbbed. I reached for the small satchel of rocks I kept in the corner of my room. They remained cool to the touch and I pressed them to my jaw.
As I lay down to sleep, flashes of bright blue danced in my mind’s eye, and I dreamed of the boy who had stood on my wall.
Chapter 8
Nick entered the inn, panting. The smell of food made his stomach grumble, which only added to his exhaustion. He had not ridden that hard in a long while.
The inn bustled with patrons, men and women of all walks of life having a meal and speaking to one another. It took Nick a moment to find his two friends. Bryan and Penn were at a table in the corner, each drinking a stein of ale and smiling over something. Possibly the serving wench with her bosom spilling out of her dress.
Nick made his way over, giving the curvy barmaid a cursory glance as he dropped into the chair. The woman’s fiery red hair did make her stand out in the darkness of the inn.
“Nick,” Bryan said, nodding at him.
Penn shoved his stein at him and Nick drank the remainder of the ale with relish. “My thanks.” His friends were staring at him–Bryan looking intrigued, Penn bored.
“I need to speak with you,” Nick told them.
“You just got here,” Penn said. “Relax, have a bite. You look like hell.”
“Climbing walls and riding hard will do that to you,” Nick replied.
“So you saw her again?” Penn asked.
Bryan smiled and smacked Penn’s arm. “Told you he would.”
Penn let out a sigh and tossed some coin on the table. “I should know better than to bet against you.”
“You two were supposed to help me,” Nick grumbled.
“We did. We helped by securing this table,” Penn said. “We knew you would be hungry.”
Nick rolled his eyes.
“So you found a way in?” It was just like Bryan to change the subject. Keep the peace.
“No,” Nick replied.
“Did you not hear him? He said he was climbing the walls. Obviously he did not find a door.” Penn picked up Bryan’s cup but took only one sip before slamming it back down on the table. “You need more too,” he muttered, waving at the serving wench.
“I would not if you did not drink mine.” Bryan looked into his glass. “It is still half full.”
“Which means it is half empty,” Penn replied. “You need more…”
Nick opened his mouth to stem the argument but the serving wench appeared. “More ale for ye, m’lord?”
“Yes please,” he replied, forcing a smile on his face. “What is the finest thing in the kitchen tonight?”
“The stew is fresh,” she said, passing a sultry gaze over him. “But the finest thing we offer is right here, m’lord.” She put her hand on her curvy hip, jutting it out saucily.
Nick raised his eyebrow. “As appreciated as the offer is, redheads are more to…” Out the corner of his eye, he saw Bryan stiffen in his chair. “…the Lord von Thalunburg’s taste.” He tipped his head toward Bryan.
“Is that so, m’lord?” She sauntered around the table toward Bryan, but did not touch him, standing between Penn and Bryan.
“And what about ye fine nobles?” she asked, leaning toward them.
Penn smiled at her. “Another ale would be splendid,” he said. “And maybe later…” He raised his eyebrow as he gazed down her torso.
The woman laughed. “A naughty one ye are,” she said, then faced Bryan. “And ye, m’lord?”
Nick bit his tongue to keep from laughing as she pressed her hip against Bryan’s chair.
Bryan froze, his eyes dilating as she leaned over, displaying her ample bosom. “Uh. Well. I…” He stared at what she offered him, his cheeks darkening, and his hand twitched toward her. The stein he had been drinking from went flying, right onto the wench’s dress.
“M’lord!” She grabbed the stein and shoved herself away from Bryan.
“Oh, uh. I am…” Bryan jerked out a handkerchief and attempted to blot away the worst of it, though his hands shook as he touched her.
Penn almost fell out of his seat laughing. “He will have another ale.”
Nick let out a laugh as the barmaid took off. While he and Penn got control of themselves, Bryan looked ready to murder them both.
“You truly are evil,” Bryan snarled at Nick, attempting to pat the leftover ale off the table with his now useless handkerchief. His hands were still trembling and he almost vibrated with embarrassed rage.
Penn pulled out his own handkerchief and helped him. “You really need to relax around women, Count.”
Bryan’s eyes narrowed as he threw the soaked handkerchief on the table. “Horse’s arse,” he muttered.
“Who?” Penn asked.
“Both of you,” Bryan replied, the tips of his ears dark. The dim light in the inn hid the more obvious signs of his embarrassment, but Nick knew Bryan well. It was probably cruel of him to encourage the wench, but he knew Bryan loved women as much as Penn. He had just never learned to properly woo them.
The wench returned with the ales and his bowl of stew, though she gave Bryan a wide berth.
“Thank you,” Nick said.
Penn snagged his drink. “Greatly appreciated.” He ran his gaze over her again. “And the offer stands…”
She blushed and set Bryan’s drink in front of him.
Bryan took the cup and nodded his thanks. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out far more coin than necessary to pay for the drinks and put it on the table for her. She eyed him for a moment but said nothing as she scooped up the coins and tucked them into her pocket. Bryan let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing, and sunk a few inches in his chair.
He glared across the table at Nick. “You owe me.”
Nick smirked as he took another bite of stew. It really was quite good, despite the worn appearance of the inn. The three sat in silence for a few moments, Nick eating, the others lost in thought and their steins.
“If you cannot speak to them,” Penn said, sipping his ale, “then do not. Women like men of few words.”
“Arse,” he muttered then glanced at Nick, his face less red than it had been a few moments be
fore. “So you did find the entrance?”
Nick swallowed a bite of his stew and patted his mouth with the rag they claimed was a napkin. He shook his head. “There is nothing aside from the window at the top of the tower. I am still not sure how one would get in.”
“Rope must be lowered,” Penn said, with his eyes still on the serving wench.
Nick nodded, for he had drawn the same conclusion. The image of the tower–and Rapunzel in the window, bruised and swollen–arose again. His fingers tightened compulsively on the stein.
“We have to help her.”
“Before we can get her out, we need to know how to get in,” Bryan said. “We should go back, watch the property.”
Nick agreed. “There must be a way in.”
“Maybe a secret passage,” Bryan mused.
"However it is done,” Nick said, “it must be done. And soon.”
“You are very determined,” Penn said softly.
Nick nodded. “She was not well cared for.”
Bryan tipped his head to the side. “Why do you assume so?”
“I heard the slaps.”
The two friends’ expressions went stony and Nick knew he had them. They would do whatever they could to rescue Rapunzel, no matter the difficulties involved. No matter that the Black Forest lay outside their territories. They all took the protection of women very seriously. No man of honor would allow a woman to be harmed while he stood idly by.
Penn set down his drink. “We will go tomorrow. Ride out to the tower and retrieve the girl.”
Nick shook his head. “I would like to approach her first. Speak to her, if I can.”
“Why?” Bryan asked. “She must not be left to such treatment.” His face was white and his fists clenched.
Bryan knew from experience how women could be broken by fists and cruel words. If Nick allowed it, Bryan would be on his horse within moments, intent on storming the tower. With or without the others. He had been known to intervene if he saw a woman mistreated on the streets of Thalunburg Province.
“Bryan is right,” Penn said. “Why wait? We can haul her out and take her back to your castle with relative ease.”
“I do not think it will be as simple as all that,” Nick answered. “First, I am willing to bet the girl has been shut in that tower most, if not all, her life. I cannot imagine three grown men breaking into her home will accomplish anything other than terrifying her.” Nick ran his hands through his hair. “Then, women who are beaten tend to be fiercely loyal to their masters.” He glanced at Bryan.
Bryan nodded. “She will fight you. Possibly try to return.”
“Which will only make her situation worse.” Nick tapped his finger on the table. “We must approach her cautiously. Persuade, instead of force.”
And they could all be wrong–she could fling herself into his arms and beg to be whisked away to freedom.
Nick hoped as much, anyway.
“So we will take it slow,” said Bryan. “Where do we start?”
“Tomorrow, we determine the best way in and out,” Penn said.
Bryan nodded. “First light?”
The other two nodded.
“Meet here,” Nick said.
“Yes, sir,” Penn said, then glanced at the red-haired barmaid. “It seems I will be requiring a room tonight after all.”
She blushed, but her eyes were dark with knowing.
Nick rolled his eyes.
Chapter 9
Mother and I broke our fast early and she gave me new cloth to sew a dress–good quality yellow and green fabric and a wide assortment of laces and ribbons to accent the dress. She said it was to keep me entertained while she was gone–for I would need a vivid new dress in order to receive the present she was heading out to acquire.
I ran my fingers over the fabrics, part of me wishing the greens were blues, but I said nothing, for it was a fine gift. “Will you be gone long?”
“No longer than usual,” she replied as she moved about the room, picking up items here and there and putting them in the bag she carried on her shoulder.
She seemed agitated, her movements jerky, and she whispered under her breath.
“Is there anything I can do while you are gone?”
“No,” she said. Then paused, tipping her head to the side, and stared at me with a very strange expression, one that gave me a shiver.
“There is one thing…” she said.
She walked toward the storeroom she used to mix and store her potions. There was a cabinet opposite the door, a small table on the left, and the walls were lined with jar-laden shelves.
I hated going into the storeroom. It was so tiny I could not bring all my hair into the room. The overwhelming aroma of the many herbs had seeped into the walls, and it gave me a headache if I stayed too long, but I followed her inside anyway. I almost bumped into Mother as she came to a stop just past the center of the slim, rectangular room.
“Here it is,” she said, gesturing to the cabinet.
I stared in wonder as she pulled on the heavy piece of furniture. I went forward to help, but Mother waved me back and continued until she had moved the cabinet away from the wall.
There was a door.
“What is that?” I whispered. My heart thundered in my chest. How could there be a hidden door?
“It is a door to the stairs.”
I inhaled a breath. There were stairs out of the tower?
Mother glared at me, her hand on her hip. “Do not look so surprised. How do you think I got in and out when you were a child?” She turned to the door. “It is very stiff, but it can be opened.” She tugged on it, so hard in fact that when the door opened–with a horrible scraping sound that rattled my teeth–she stumbled backward into me.
I caught her in my arms and she righted herself. The door had opened enough to let a single person through and, in the dimness, I could make out stairs. Very dusty, very worn stairs. I blinked, trying to bring the room into focus, but the dust spinning in the air obscured everything.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“If someone does manage to get into the tower, you have a way to get out.” She stabbed one long, bony finger in my face. “It is an escape, no more, no less. The stairs are old and worn. One misstep and they will break under you.” She pressed on one with her toe. The wood crackled under her foot and little shavings came off the edge, illustrating their fragility.
It sent shivers down my spine.
“They may only stand one trip down,” she said. And again, she brought her bony finger to my face. “You need not concern yourself with them unless your life is in peril. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Do you understand?” She grabbed my shoulders and shook me.
“Y-yes…Mother.”
She released me. “Good.” She gestured for me to leave the room. I backed out, tugging my hair with me, my heart hammering in my chest. Mother followed me, shutting the door behind her.
As she walked through the rest of the tower, picking up the bag she had packed for her journey, she muttered to herself. “There is something afoot in the woods. I can feel it in my bones.” She did not look at me as she fastened her robe, tucking her hair into the hood as she pulled it over her head. “I cannot lose now, not at this point. The hardest part is finished.”
“What hardest part, Mother?” I asked, stepping to her side.
She snapped her eyes to mine, as if she had not even remembered I was in the room. “Do not concern yourself.” She gestured to the fabrics she had given me. “Make the best dress you know how to make, for you will be presented after I return.”
“Presented, Mother? Presented for what?”
She made an exasperated sound. “Do not pester me with questions! Do as I say.”
“Yes Mother,” I replied, looking at the floor.
Mother walked to the window, picked up a section of my hair and tossed it out–dragging me, stumbling, to the window.
Mother climb
ed halfway out the window, but paused on the sill. “Remember, girl. Practice your dagger. The Black Forest is gaining in treachery. Be prepared for danger.” She glanced behind her, into the woods. “Something is coming. And it will not benefit us if it finds us.” She turned and looked at me. “Be vigilant!”
“Yes, Mother.”
I gripped the sill as Mother climbed down. My fingers dug into the wood of the window sill as she worked her way down. I rubbed my brow, considering everything she had said. What could Mother possibly be fetching that I needed a new dress for?
I hauled my hair back inside and let it pile by the window. While there was no way to answer those questions until Mother returned, one thing was clear. I had to make a dress. I set to work immediately. Working would take my mind off what Mother had shown me.
Stairs.
The shape of them rose, dusty and unbidden, in my mind, much as I tried to ignore them. Why were they there? And, worse, why had Mother revealed them now? I had been alone in this tower most of my life. Even as a young girl, Mother had felt safe leaving me alone here. What had changed? What was this danger she feared?
If someone came into the tower, intent on doing harm, could I use the stairs? Even if I did, where would I go? How would I travel? Even here in the tower, my hair was often an obstacle to movement. Out there? I could never walk through the woods and the hair was far too heavy to carry. Cutting it off was out of the question as well.
If someone breached the walls and climbed the tower, I would be trapped here with them.
I knelt on the floor by my bed. I could see the hilt of the dagger under my pillow. It really would be left for me to defend myself, because on the ground I would never survive.
I ran a hand over my face, rubbing my eyes as if that would erase the memory of the door.
But even out of the corner of my eye, I could see the storeroom and I knew, beyond that, lay the door. I repressed a shudder, and forced myself to look at the material Mother had given me.
“Yellow and green,” I said, attempting to take my focus away from that door and its temptation. A door that led to the ground was both the most amazing and the most devilish thing she could have shown me.
Rescuing Rapunzel Page 4
