Page 30 of Down from the Tower

Blinking at him, my eyes widen. I can’t focus on anything else in the room, because he’s so close I can’t look away. “I - it doesn’t work that way.”

“A year is nothing,” he growls. “Give me more time. A year doesn’t change my age.”

“Modred-”

He drags me so close, he’s practically spitting in my ear. “I knew you weren’t anything special. A deceiver, a waste. Let’s see how powerful you really are, Princess.”

Something digs into my forearms and I scream, the pain surprising and strong. I don’t recall seeing Modred wield a weapon, and to sneak it past the guards and the King is no small feat.

There’s some yelling, but I can’t pick apart who is saying what around the stabs of pain in my arms. I shove against Modred, but his grip is like a vise, and my eyes open wider when the stabbing pain starts to drag across and down in my skin.

Everything is oddly bright when I open my eyes, but maybe it’s just the surprise rush of pain. Aside from Midas and Dorah occasionally raising their hands to me, no one is permitted to hurt me. There’s too much at risk to allow that..

“More!” he growls, dark eyes wild and wide. I vaguely make out the shadowed figure behind him and the scrambling of feet around us.

I shake my head, struggling. I can still feel the heat of my hair, the slight tingle in my hands, but it’s all dulled by the new rush of pain. “Let go!”

He’s pulled backward, but his hold on my arms drags me with. “Give me more, Rapunzel!”

He grinds his fingers into my arms and I scream, the pain intensifying. I flatten my palms against his chest, pushing back against him.

Hands appear, grabbing at my shoulders, but we’re locked together and I can’t figure out what’s keeping us here.

Red hair behind Modred tells me Arthur is there, and there’s too many figures who seem to be surrounding us. Why is my vision going blurry?

I scream, unsure if it’s rage or pain, and shove my hands harder into his face, desperate for him to just let go. Modred cries out, and my hair is practically burning my scalp.

“Rapunzel,” Zarev says, but his voice is easy to hear over the rush around us. I glare at Modred as we’re pulled around, but his voice is the only one I can focus on. I don’t even see him, my eyes locked on Modred’s ugly face. “You’re burning him.”

I… what?

Shocked, I rip my palms away from him, and feel the heat in my palms dissipating. Gasping, I blink around the blinding pain in my arms to focus on Modred and try to make sense of what’s happening around me.

The brightness is fading. I blink and can focus on Modred again, on his face…

I scream, struggling with his hands until they fall free of me. I expect someone to be behind me, to pull me away and start up a new clamor in the dining hall, but there’s no one there as I stumble.

My hair falls from Modred, who makes a gurgling sound in his throat. As my hair unwinds I realize his skin looks less youthful than it should, more… sludgy.

Slick. Free. Like it’s melting from his face.

I scramble backward until the piercing pain in my arms leaves, and his hands fall away. There’s a stunned glaze in his eyes as he tries to focus on me, the skin on his face seeming to slide down, like it’s trying to fall off.

I scream again, the hair around his wrists and ankles coming undone as I back up. Other than our cries, it’s silent in the room. Lifting my hands to reach for… well, I don’t know what, I notice something strange. I would touch my hair but I don’t know what’s going on with it, and my fingers flex uselessly as I pull them back on instinct, staring down in wonder.

They are glowing. A dull golden haze surrounds them, seeming to glow as brightly as the intense heat in my skull.

It looks like… magic. Like the soft glow that happens when I use my gift.

“Witch,” someone gasps, and my head snaps up as I look around the room. Modred stumbles to his knees, his skin still unnaturally slick, and stares up at me with lost eyes.

“She’s a murderer,” Arthur says, cutting through the silence. I look up to meet his horrified gaze, taking in the terrified looks of the guards who ran in here. For the first time I dimly realize there’s a blade at his hip, hidden mostly by his cloak. Weapons never make it this far into the castle, and alarm bells go off in my mind.

Shaking, I do a slow circle. People stand back from me, shoved from their seats and backing towards the doors. There weren’t many people dining, but all the servants and guards are putting as much space as they can around me. My hands still burn and my scalp tingles, but I fist my palms at my sides. I don’t want to do… whatever that was, again.

Modred remains a mess on the ground, but the guards line the room hesitantly.

I skate my gaze around, catching Zarev’s eyes before my parents. There’s a hardness to his gaze, his sickle in hand as he watches me.

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