Evermore: The Rylakian Heir

by Caroline Metzlaff

  Manuel sighed deeply, and true to form, answered. “Very well then, if I would go to the trouble to create something as absurd as a fictional illness, the only possible reason would be to obtain power over that person or someone close to them. Placing the mantle of a fictional illness on another’s shoulders would be a way of shackling them; an effective means of control.”

  “Hmmm.” Snow pondered. “You mean like the power to say what you can do, where you can go, and things like that.”

  “Of course, all of that would fall within the net I would have created with the illness. I would have made a prisoner.”

  A prisoner. If that didn’t sound like Rapunzel, she didn’t know what did.

  “Why would you want to make someone a prisoner?” She had to ask.

  “Why are you irritating me with senseless questions? Would you cease if I told you how hungry I was?” He shot a dark look her way.

  Manuel, she laughed to herself, Manuel and his empty threats. Manuel would no more eat her, then she would eat Cindy. The rule only applied to a handful of beings that she knew of, beyond that...she wasn’t quite so sure. She had never actually heard of Manuel eating anyone, but still, he was more than capable; she wondered what he did eat. Regardless, she knew she was safe from all but his biting sarcasm.

  “No.” She replied quite honestly.

  “I should have eaten you and your little friend weeks ago; you are all so much trouble. Perhaps then I would have my life back.” He sent a long suffering glance skyward. “I would create a prisoner bound with invisible shackles for secrecy. I would use the guise of illness to create this invisible prison and hide the existence of these shackles so that none might question and discover my true agenda.”

  “In English.”

  “I want to hide someone, perhaps hide someone from someone, and have power over another. Perhaps I am silencing a secret, hiding an existence.”

  Something to hide, something to silence. Something about that sentence rang true for Snow. What could The Mother have to hide, except Rapunzel herself? Why would she hide Rapunzel and who had instructed her to do so? It was at that moment that Snow became completely sure that The Mother Goethal wasn’t Rapunzel’s mother at all. Who she was and why was she “shackling” Rapunzel, she didn’t know; but she would find out, this she pledged on her own honour, her Rylakian honour.

  “Manuel?” She whispered again. “Have you ever heard of something called Hoglas disease?”

  “Is this the fictional disease you are creating?” He sounded bored again.

  “No. I’m not creating any disease! I just wanted to understand why someone might want to. Jeez Manuel, keep up!” Good grief talking to Manuel was beyond frustrating sometimes. And he thought he was the one being taxed. So much for his “superior intellect”.

  “I have never heard of this fictional Hoglas disease. Wherever did you learn of it?” The lovely vampire wearily asked with a complete lack of interest.

  “Rapunzel has it; according to the Mother Goethal anyway.” Snow glared up at him.

  Instantly he swung his head so it was mere inches from hers. His bottomless black eyes smouldered with intensity. “Rapunzel has no illness; explain.”

  “The Mother Goethal says she has Hoglas disease, whatever that is; and that’s why she is locked in her tower like that.” Snow carefully whispered back; Manuel looked about ready to pounce.

  “There is absolutely nothing wrong with Rapunzel, do you understand what I am saying? If there were anything afflicting her, not only would I know, I would be able to tell you exactly which strain and how far advanced it was. I am a vampire; I smell everything in the blood. If she was sick, I would know.”

  Frightened by the intensity Manuel had spoken with, not to mention the deep and penetrating look in the beautiful predator’s eye, Snow shrunk back and said not a word.

  “Who is this Mother Goethal?” He asked in a deceptively casual tone turning back to scrutinise the cottage.

  Snow, who knew better than to be fooled by his tone answered carefully. “The Lady that Rapunzel believes is her Mother...you saw her back at the tower the night we saw the soldier.”

  “You mean the crone?” Again, far too casual sounding if you went by his eyes, and when dealing with Manuel, it would be wise to always, always read his eyes.

  “Well, yeah, but that sounds a little uncalled for don’t you think? We haven’t proven that she’s done anything wrong yet. She may be old and ugly but calling her a crone? That’s a little harsh.”

  “She is a crone. And she is not Rapunzel’s mother.” Manuel announced matter of factly. He turned to face Snow again. “I will find out everything there is to know about this Mother Goethal.”

  Red chose that exact moment to exit the cottage. After hugging her eccentric and much loved Grandmother Adair goodbye, she began the journey down the path back to Turin, completely oblivious to her escort.

  Moving silently through the bushes alongside Manuel, Snow wondered if Red would ever come to know her secret protector. A protector that went to great lengths to ensure her safety, even when he himself was indisposed; and if she did, how would his affection be received? Would she realise the great honour bestowed upon her as the beloved of a werewolf? Would she even be allowed to realise it, considering Red’s status in the aristocracy? Snow felt that possibility definitely fell in to the ‘slim to none’ category.

  As Red made her way out of The Lonesome Forest and on to the main road of Turin, Manuel turned to Snow, placing a pale hand on her shoulder solemnly.

  “Go home to bed little human. I have much work to do tonight and where I go I cannot protect you.” He whispered with uncharacteristic tenderness before disappearing in to the night.

  ~~*~~

  The town bazaar was truly bustling that Saturday morning; with the Season so close to beginning, everyone was clamoring for the latest perfume, cape, or ear rings. Cindy, of course, was no exception; she showed up at Snow’s cottage in the early hours of the morning dragging Mercury with her. Now Mercury, having finally finished his lock down, was simply bursting with energy; so perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Mercury fairly dragged Cindy all the way to the Rutherford cottage. This also would explain why a rugged werewolf was so easily roped into accompanying two young girls shopping; he didn’t care where he went, they could just as easily be taking him to a “Prince Leonardo Fan Club” meeting, just as long as he went somewhere.

  If Uncle Doc found it strange that Cindy showed up at his door that morning being dragged by a young werewolf, wearing a huge grin along with her, and I have it on good authority that he did, he was wise enough to say nothing about it. He simply set about making a very enormous breakfast for the very appreciative wolf; Mercury was ravenous. The girls watched in awe as he ingested more food in one sitting, than both Cindy and Snow combined could in an entire day.

  Uncle Doc found this all very amusing; apparently he was quite accustomed to young wolves appetites after the full moon lockdown. Mercury was a hit with all the Rutherford boys, no one was immune to an energetic and enthusiastic wolf. Even Uncle Gordon, whom Snow often referred to as “Uncle Grumpy” had to smile at the animated young boy as he described his mother’s sour dough biscuits.

  So off they went with Mercury happily escorting the girls, an arm around each of them, laughing at his own apparent shopping excitement.

  Finally they made it to the town bazaar, which was truly bustling in every sense of the word; tents, stands, carriages, the place was full of just about anything you could think of and it looked as if the entire town of Turin had come out ready to spend their hard earned dollars. Cindy almost swooned with excitement; shopping was her absolute favorite pass time, she took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of what she referred to as “commerce”.

  Several sharp eyed salesmen, noticing a young and obviously affluent young shopper began calling for her attention. Laughing with glee she grabbed Merc and Snow by the hand and ran towards the
centre.

  As she reached the centre of the bazaar, Snow became aware of a curious sensation that had slowly began to sweep over her. Not quite a memory, perhaps the memory of a memory? She felt a silent call, lifting her head she scanned the crowd trying to identify where it came from. Turning her head in the direction the call was strongest, she felt herself take a tentative step.

  “Snowy?” Cindy sounded puzzled. “Which one do you think?”

  “Oh, sorry! Did you say something? My...mind wandered for a minute.” Snow snapped out of the trance, apparently Cindy had been talking to her the whole time; she hadn’t heard a thing. How bizarre.

  “Merc and I want to check out the new perfume stand in the bazaar centre, are you coming?” Cindy explained.

  “Well, why don’t you two do that, I’m just going to take a look down there.” Snow found herself answering, as she pointed to the left where the feeling seemed to be originating. “And I’ll meet you at the scents stand in ten minutes.”

  “Why don’t you come with us, or maybe we can all take a look down there. What are you looking for anyway?” Cindy questioned.

  A question for which Snow had no real answer. How do you describe a feeling, a compulsion or a calling and not sound like a complete nut case? She didn’t know, but she had to follow that nostalgic feeling and soon, the call was getting urgent. Knowing that anything she said would simply sound crazy, she chose not to explain.

  “Nothing. I’m just looking. You two go on, I’ll meet you in a few minutes. Really.” It was the best she could think of. Just get lost already she thought, and was instantly shamed; these were her friends. She needed to chill out, this was so unlike her.

  “Okay, but you better meet me at the scents stand; you don’t have any good perfume and you can’t go around smelling like a tavern wench or a milk maid at the balls you know.”

  “Tavern wench? Milk maid? Seriously?” Snow rolled her eyes at the comparison. “Go on, I have to check something out, and I promise I will meet you there in ten minutes or less.” She attempted to sound light and carefree...

  “ Are you meeting a boy?” Cindy’s eyes popped open. “You are, aren’t you!”

  Shocked, Snow’s mouth fell open.

  “How could you keep this from me? I thought we were best friends forever. How could you? I want to meet him.” Cindy pouted, hurt and horrified that her best friend in the world could possibly keep something so mountainous from her.

  “I want to meet him to.” Mercury asserted, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  “No, there’s no guy!” Snow took a deep breath. “No guy! I just want to check something out. If there was a guy I would be more than ten minutes, and you know that.”

  Cindy scrutinised her face closely.

  “She’s right. Ten minutes would never be enough with a really cute guy.” She explained to Mercury, who remained unconvinced. “Okay, but ten minutes. You’re up to something...I have a bad feeling about this.”

  She looked up at Mercury who nodded in agreement.

  “Oh jeez, you two are like-”

  “If you say Twiddle dee and Twiddle dum, I won’t forgive you.” Cindy said with a grimace.

  “Okay then, but seriously I have to go check something out, I will meet you at the scent stand in ten minutes; I swear. There is nothing up, no guy, no lost treasure, no nothing interesting. Okay?”

  After considering Snow for a long minute, Cindy nodded and grabbed Mercury’s arm.

  As soon as they left, Snow opened herself up to the call. She had never experienced anything like it before. Acting purely on instinct, she allowed herself to be led by the sensation.

  She turned the corner and suddenly the nostalgic feeling intensified; now it didn’t merely pound out a relentless call, it roared mercilessly at her. Helplessly she followed the call until it led her to a dress shop in the middle of the street.

  It must have been a newer shop set up recently to take advantage of the shopping craze the impending “Season” would bring, because Snow had never noticed this particular shop before. A good many women traveled to Crystallise to be fitted by the designers in Homner, but many of them still frequented the smaller boutiques that set up shop each year; it was a very lucrative time of year for the travelling fashion vendor.

  A delicious scent wafted by and tickled at her nose, as she tentatively opened the door; a familiar scent somehow although Snow couldn’t quite place it. Swaths of fabric, gloves, scarves and head pieces decorated the shop and a beautiful waltz played in the background. Now that she could place, it was the waltz she had always danced to with her father before he fell ill. It was his favourite, and he always saved it for her; how he had spun the little girl round and round the great ballroom, her yards of silk skirts swirling and swirling around as they danced. When her father had twirled her around the ballroom to this particular waltz, Snow had felt like the prettiest, most cherished little girl in the entire world. The memory was bitter-sweet, she missed her father with every fibre of her being at that particular moment, and she swallowed hard to resist the urge to cry.

  The shopkeeper was a middle aged woman, perhaps forty years with curly, brown hair neatly tied up in a neat swirl. A very average looking woman, average until you noticed her wide expectant smile that was; Snow found herself smiling back unconsciously.

  “Well hello there dear heart, are you looking for anything in particular?” The shopkeeper asked in a raspy yet rather pleasant voice.

  “Oh no Madame.” Snow replied “I am just looking.”

  “Well then, feel free; the Season will be starting soon and I am sure all of you young girls will be ordering gowns then. I understand that both Charming brothers will be holidaying in Turin this time.” The shopkeeper added in a confiding voice.

  Snow blushed at the thought of Leo, dashing, blue eyed Leo. “It is very exciting to think about to be sure.” She replied politely as she looked at the pile of scarves sitting in the counter waiting to be folded; beautiful scarves Cindy would have just loved.

  The shopkeeper slid around the counter and stood beside Snow, looking her up and down in consideration.

  “Yes, I think you are exactly the right size.” She said with a nod.

  “Excuse me Madame?” Snow was confused.

  “I have just received a new shipment of display gowns from a very eclectic shop in Homner, Crystallise. I am so curious to see how they would look on a real live person.” The shopkeeper said with great excitement. “If you would be so kind, it would only take a moment.” She continued as she easily steered Snow in to the back room.

  Snow could hardly say no seeing as she was already standing in the back dressing room; and true to her word, an entire rack of soft and beautiful gowns hung on racks awaiting their place on the mannequins in the front window. Gowns of every shade and texture, from deep brilliant reds to the softest cream. Velvets, gossamer, silks and amazingly eccentric prints. Snow let her fingers trail over the intricate design stitched in to the neckline of the palest sunbeam coloured silk gown. The pale yellow dress was intricately detailed with embroidered stitching, and a long full skirt. The shopkeeper noticed Snow’s hand linger on it.

  “Ah, that is a beautiful dress indeed. There is a dressing room behind you that you may use; go on now.” She took the dress off the rack and handed it to Snow. It felt so soft and finely made in her hands, Snow decided just this one dress. Just this one dress would she try on; then she would go find Cindy and Merc. But this dress, this dress she had to try.

  Slipping her old dark green dress off, she slowly slid her arms in to the sleeves of the pale yellow delight. Sighing, she felt it caress her skin as it slid down; it was at that moment that she realised she just might have to buy it. Cindy would be a little more than put out considering she had taken it upon herself to completely design Snow’s entire “Season” wardrobe; but this dress was bliss and Snow couldn’t suppress the need to sigh once again as the satiny dress caressed her curves. Carefully s
he stepped out of the dressing room; the shopkeeper pursed her lips rather grimly as she took in the vision of Snow.

  “You are such a pretty young girl, and this dress really was made for you,” She said slowly. “But this dress is meant to be worn over a corset.”

  Snow had never worn a corset in her life, as far as she knew corsets were reserved for grown woman wearing ball gowns; certainly Cindy’s creations never had need of one, a fact the little blonde often prided herself on. Perhaps the lady had misjudged her age; no sixteen year old girl Snow had ever heard of wore a corset. Still, she was just vain enough to be curious as to what a corset might do for her figure, so she agreed to try one.

  The shopkeeper immediately rummaged through a rack to her left, finally deciding on a white bone corset with silky lacings. Snow’s heart skipped a beat as she regarded the undergarment, it looked so terribly grown up.

  “Allow me to help you with this dear heart, it is many years before most women are able to do a corset up themselves, and most women never do; it is rather impossible to tighten it correctly alone. But the shape it allows you...marvellous.”

  Eagerly she lowered the dress to allow the lady to help her get in to her very first corset.

  “Now hold on to that pole, I will have to tug quite hard to get the lacings tight enough, but the effect will be...magical.” The shopkeeper said with a strange smile.

  The bones felt strange against her skin at first, cold, now these were not real bones of course, years ago corsets had been made with bones or so they say, but corsets now were fashioned out of a completely different substance. What that substance was exactly, Snow didn’t know, and wasn’t sure she really wanted to but she didn’t care that much as long as it wasn’t bones.

  Snow gasped as the shopkeeper began to do the lacings up, it was really, really tight. She held on to the pole for all she was worth, and with one last tug the lady neatly secured the lacings. Snow gently pulled the dress back up over her shoulders; the shopkeeper was looking at her with a wide smile; quickly she grabbed some pins and expertly wound Snow’s hair in to a big glamorous bun.

  “Beautiful. Just like I knew you would be. Here, look for yourself.” She turned Snow so she was facing a floor length mirror.