Page 18 of Down from the Tower

She glares at me. “Why should I? You’ve made my mother cross with me and now I’m banished to my rooms.”

“Well, the Queen believes you’re isolated and alone.” I point to myself. “She has no idea you’re in such good company.”

Scoffing, Rapunzel lets go of her long locks and paces to the window. There’s a window seat beneath that I’ve not paid a lot of attention to, mostly because it looks fit for a child at best. She sits on the edge, looking closer to hovering than relaxing, and glares out the window.

“Before I grew up, they used to let me play in the castle. When I was still a child. They weren’t as strict in the beginning, but as I grew older and bolder and more curious they locked me in my tower.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “I wanted to know about my so-called gift. Midas and Dorah never talk about my birth, and I can’t remember a time they allowed me down to their chambers. Even the guards are limited there, and anyone who gets close to Midas has to get past his golden touch.”

I nod along. It’s nothing I didn’t already know.

“When I was eight, maybe nine…” her voice trails off, and she grabs at a length of hair to pull at the strands. “I can’t remember. The time blurs together. When I was very young Midas used my gift to make amends with a Queen from far away. She only visited once and she didn’t make her presence known. I thought it was kind of peculiar since most visitors want people to know they are in the city.”

“She was terrifying,” Rapunzel goes on, her gaze shifting far away. She’s lost somewhere in a memory, one I can’t see. “She had these blood red eyes and gemstone hearts ground into her teeth-”

I catch my breath, a mental image forming in my head that I can’t escape. Rapunzel glances at me, curiosity peppering her gaze, but I shake my head and gesture for her to continue.

She’s met the Queen?

“I… I didn’t get the Queen’s name,” Rapunzel continues, her narrowed eyes staying fixed on me. “She was terrifying and never wanted to speak to me directly. The second night she was here, her cat ran away and got lost in the castle. That’s Cheshie. That’s how I got him.”

That explains a lot.

“The Queen needed a lot of magic, and I had to spend more than an hour with her during my visit. Usually my magic works over a few minutes, and I’ve gotten much better since then.” There’s pride in her voice, as though the Queen was her first challenge. “She was so frightening to look at. Her eyes… I’ve never seen anything like them.”

Red eyes flash through my head. If we’re thinking of the same Queen, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“That’s the first time my mother insisted that I drink the tea,” she continues. “I needed to be in control of my emotions and able to focus on my task. The tea calmed me. She used to give it to me once a month, calling it tea time, but sometimes it’s more frequent if we’re having guests.” She shrugs, and I wonder if she sees what I see. “Now it’s our ritual. It’s the only thing she visits me for here, unless she needs to speak with me about a guest before they arrive. Why did you ruin that for me?”

“You’ve never wondered why she visits and you feel different afterwards?” It’s a shot in the dark, but with her reaction to the tea spilling there’s no way there isn’t something in the tea that affects her.

“No.” Frowning, Rapunzel turns her gaze back to me. “It’s when we bond. It’s the only time we bond. She brings me the tea so I can be at my best.”

Trauma bond maybe.

“Rapunzel,” I say slowly, crossing my arms, “I think whatever Dorah uses to brew your tea is used to control you. She wants you to stay compliant and docile.”

She scowls, standing again. “That’s not it. My magic makes me manic. I need it to stay in control.”

Manic? Looking around the room, the only thing manic about her is the amount of painting she does, and that looks like a hobby born out of necessity. She talks to herself, but no one else seems to want to talk to her, so there aren’t many other options. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why stay in control? If your gift is life, what is the worst that can happen?”

She bites her lip, and I get the feeling she has no real answers. When she helped King Arthur, she reversed his age by a year or two at best. She’d have to shave off decades to do any true damage, and I don’t think aging anyone is within her realm of power. So far there’s been no hints that it is.

“I’ve never let it get out of control,” she replies, lifting her chin. Her hands released her hair already, but she balls them up again like she’s fighting to repeat it. “And since escaping the tower is moot by now, I never act out. There’s so little freedom here I don’t want to risk the few liberties I have.”

Now she just sounds like her mother.

“Where do you think your gift came from?” I prod, refusing to drop this as I start circling her again. I think the princess knows more about what’s going on around here than she’d like to admit.

“I don’t really know,” she breathes. “When I met the Queen, she mentioned flowers. But I’ve looked up flowers in the books I can find for years since her visit, and I never really figured out what she was talking about. She didn’t look like the flowery sort. I mean, even the hearts studded on her teeth didn’t make much sense. She looked… gloomy. Angry. But not like someone who would appreciate flowers.”

Rapunzel is right. The Mad Queen doesn’t like anything beautiful like that. She liked roses once upon a time, but only when they were soaked in blood. But what she’s telling me makes no sense, and doesn’t help me figure out what’s going on in this castle.

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