Page 15 of Down from the Tower

“Of course. I’m not an imbecile. We never stray from tea time.”

Well, there’s certainly something in the tea. Rapunzel doesn’t like me, but I feel a dull ache in my chest, like maybe I should warn the girl that her mother is up to something. Dorah was strangely insistent that she drink the whole brew when she was up there, and from the sounds of it she’s going to go visit and pull the same thing again.

“Good. We need to keep a tight hold on her. I’ve heard rumors that Arthur is returning without an invite within the next week.”

Dorah’s eyes widen. “The nerve!”

“He’s bringing a companion along. Someone I’m certain who thinks I will let him control our Rapunzel. She only listens to us, and I won’t have anyone storming into the castle and trying to turn her away from us. The brew must be perfect this time, Dorah. We need her docile.”

“Rapunzel’s never shown an interest in rebelling,” Dorah replies, waving a hand. “This will be no different.”

“We will have more guards on duty for the next few weeks. If anyone tries to go up to the tower, banish them. We will not allow anyone to get in her ear or steal her away.”

“I’ll take care of Rapunzel,” Dorah says dismissively. “You handle our company.”

Midas nods, dragging a hand over his face. It’s the first time since I’ve arrived that he’s looked tired. Old, even, like time is weighing on him. “I’ll visit her after the tea. She’s more willing to help me after that. You know she hates using her gift on me.”

I can’t imagine why. But it’s curious that Midas would need her golden touch, since he has magic all his own. Maybe it’s not enough to gain the part that lets Rapunzel wash away time, turning someone young again.

Dorah nods, and this whole conversation makes me want to dash off to find the golden princess. But Midas’ next words make me pause.

“Tell the Mad Queen we know nothing of Rosen. And if she thinks we’ll give up Rapunzel, she’s more insane than I thought.”

“Yes, Rapunzel is our gift of life.”

“She is life, Dorah. And no one will control life but us.”

Their words bang around in my head, and despite everything I’m learning one thing sticks out above all else.

The Mad Queen.

The Red Queen.

Midas is on speaking terms with the woman who ripped my heart from my chest, and condemned me to this fate.

I have to walk around the city the following day before I go in search of Rapunzel. She was still asleep last night when I peeked in on her and eavesdropping on Dorah again this morning told me she didn’t plan on visiting her daughter until midday. I thought the Queen claimed the second batch of tea was ready, but walking around on the roof of Rapunzel’s tower I never saw or heard anyone climbing the stairs.

I tried to reach out to my Hell Brothers, but none of them answered through the seeing stone. Ray is certain that the stones we use are looking glasses, and they aren’t readily available in Mystica. Usually the rich have them, or extremely powerful beings. We picked ours up after the Mad Queen finished with us, when it was time to try and put back together our broken lives.

They have their own problems to deal with in different parts of Mystica, but the issues behind the wall of Tressa are mine to bear. One will reach out, eventually. Hopefully by that time I’ll have left the city and resolved the problems.

It falls within my domain, the divide we created to make the life of a Reaper a bit more tolerable. We each handle a section of land, and avoid the Red Woods altogether. Until those lands can be saved, the souls are trapped and dying. The nation might be screaming in agony in a tone only we can hear, but everyone knows how damaging the Mad Queen’s rule is.

Everyone except for Rapunzel, it seems.

When I do make it to her rooms with a better mindset, Dorah is already there. I glare at the Queen when I pop into existence, watching as Rapunzel’s glass rattles against the saucer when she notices my appearance.

Dorah shoots her a disapproving look. “Rapunzel, you know how I feel about distractions. You’re getting spooked over nothing. Is painting becoming an issue for you?”

Her eyes widen, and I glance around at the walls. If Dorah thinks she can take painting from this girl without repercussions she’s an idiot. There’s sweeping art all over the place, even high on the rafters. Loneliness made her paint her own adventures, and I don’t miss the smear of black off to one side, white paint glossed over the top to create a shadowed figure. “No, Mother.”

I purse my lips. To me the new painting sticks out, but perhaps Dorah is too distracted by talk of the Mad Queen and Rosen to worry about anything else.

“Good. Now, drink your tea. You know how you get when you’re worked up. This will calm your nerves.”

“I’m not worked up,” she replies, glancing between me and the Queen. “I’m okay, I was just doing what I always do.”

“Yes, painting.” Dorah’s words are clipped, as though she finds Rapunzel’s hobby a waste of time.

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