Page 28 of Down from the Tower

Dorah purses her lips. Yesterday we talked, and she paced my room for most of an hour muttering to herself about the tea. They couldn’t get more brewed before today, and she still looks nervous about it.

Since I haven’t seen Zarev, I can only make up wild ideas in my mind about why that is.

Blowing out a breath, Dorah turns without another look my way. I must be presentable enough. “We’re late.”

I eat dinner with the guests, something I despise. It's one thing to be the pawn, it’s another to sit there and fake my smiles until they decide to use and dismiss me.

I keep fisting the fabric of my skirt in my hands, barely touching my food. I wouldn’t risk eating too much anyway with how tightly Anastasia cinched the dress, and I worry the corset won’t hold if I breathe too hard. Why they care what I look like today is a mystery, but I’m sure I won’t like the reasons.

If anyone notices something amiss with me, they don’t seem to care, and I manage to take up space without needing to speak to anyone. I’m trying to not show how bored I am on my face, but it’s hard when a sense of unease rests over the dining hall.

Arthur’s company really is a strange, pensive man. While the King of Camelot finds me fascinating and a bit like a toy, this newcomer is studying me with the type of interest I don’t like. I have no idea how to read him, and his lecherous stares make me uncomfortable.

Modred. I don’t know this name. Arthur’s never mentioned him before, but from the way they talk he sounds like family of some sort. Father gave him a tight smile during introductions, but I get the feeling Midas is unhappy to see the newcomer here. I already know that Arthur’s return isn’t a planned visit, and before slipping into the dining hall, Midas muttered to Mother to be on the lookout if they try something sneaky.

Halfway through dinner, I look up and spot Zarev sitting across the room on a table. Curious, sharp red eyes watch the room, his shadows licking up the walls lazily around him and the heavy scythe he carries dangling loosely in his hand. He’s propped back against the wall, dark hair falling around his face, but I swear all his attention is focused on me.

I almost choke on my water when he winks, pounding a hand against my chest.

“Rapunzel,” Midas says, his hands pressing to the table in front of him. His golden one presses to an already turned napkin as I recover, and he watches until I no longer cough as the napkin hardens to gold. “Pace yourself.”

“She seems to be a little jumpy,” Modred says, and I resist the urge to scowl at him. He’s had something to say about every little thing possible tonight. My glass clicks a bit too loudly on the table when I set it down and Mother winces as Modred continues. “Do you dine with the guests often, girl?”

“Princess,” Midas warns.

“Of course,” Modred agrees, offering the table a lecherous smile. I’m too stunned by his jab to even look back towards Zarev now. “Princess Rapunzel. I’ve heard rumors that they only bring you out of the dungeon when the guests are in port.”

“Modred,” Arthur hisses, his eyes rounding in stunned surprise.

“Enough,” Midas growls, cutting off the need for me to reply. I finally glance at Zarev again, who watches all of this with narrowed eyes. What he’s been up to the last few days is a mystery to me, but he better come up to the tower later and explain his absence. My dependency on his visits is painful. I regret that I miss his company, but it’s better than going back to being totally alone.

“My daughter will not be disrespected in this kingdom,” Midas booms, and I force my gaze away from Zarev. Staring at nothing will just make my parents curious, and the more questions I avoid the better. “Now I did not request nor sanction another visit so soon, Arthur. Letting you dock in our port was a courtesy. Do not overstep your welcome.”

The King of Camelot purses his lips as I watch, and the smile he forces out is ringed in displeasure. “Of course not, Midas. Modred is still getting his land legs back after days at sea.”

Zarev’s words replay in my head. Arthur made a surprising turn around if Camelot is as far as the shadow man claims. They would’ve only been in port for a day or two, barely allowing for a restock or any repairs before sending the King off again.

If Midas was away from the throne for that long, despair would settle across the land. Why can Arthur disappear from Camelot’s throne for weeks while Midas has to remain in this kingdom at all times?

“Waves were choppy,” Modred says, taking another swig of his goblet. It doesn’t escape my notice that he’s had several glasses since sitting down at the table. He’ll be sloshed soon, and it never goes well when I try to use my gift on drunks. “Got into port in the nick of time.”

“We were following up on your gracious offer, King Midas,” Arthur cuts in, folding his hands beneath his chin. “To visit again and see what else the Kingdom of Camelot can offer you.”

“And what more can Camelot offer me?” Midas asks, leaning back in his chair again.

I look towards Zarev. I don’t know if it’s because no one else can see him, or because I’m getting to know him, but I like seeing his responses. He isn’t as guarded as Dorah or Midas, or as concerning as Arthur or Modred. I like trying to gauge his opinion on things.

Modred stands at the same time as Arthur huffs, speaking over the King. “I recently took a trip up past the Red Woods to the Queen's Court.”

That doesn’t mean much to me, but my eyes widen when Zarev jumps from his table, eyes narrowing at Modred’s words. I watch, wishing he’d look over and give me an idea of what’s suddenly flying through his head, but his eyes don’t leave Modred.

“I picked something up while I was there,” he continues, opening up the side of his coat. He’s looking a little sweaty, and I wish my seat were a bit further down. He digs through a large interior pocket before tugging out a thin, bound book.

I jump when Midas stands so fast his chair scrapes against the golden floor. Dorah stands too, her eyes wide and full of greed as she stares down at the book.

Zarev paces across the room, coming to stand so close to Modred that he does a double take at something he can’t see before shuffling back a step. Zarev’s narrowed eyes never leave him.

Finally, I catch a glimpse of the book's title: Into the Looking Glass.

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