Page 27 of Down from the Tower

There’s no sense to it. I’ve known them my whole life, yet they always act like I’ve done something to ruin their lives. I once heard the guard Michael that Priscilla sneaks off with saying their mother was once in love with the King, but I don’t know anything about her. Lady Tremaine, as far as I know, died in a tragic accident just after I was born. Plenty of the staff wish to get with one of the royals and elevate their lives, but Midas and Dorah are too cruel and I’m off limits.

Today is going to be especially painful for me. There’s news that another guest is coming into port, and my concern is that it’s Arthur. There’s no reason he should be back if he was here within the past month. I’m not sure what the endgame is, but mother and father demand that I look my best this afternoon.

That’s another weird thing. I can’t remember the last time they bothered to put me in such a glorified dress to spend a few minutes with the company. The new dress is snatched at the waist almost to the point of pain, keeping my posture ramrod straight. The neckline is lower than I’ve ever worn, and the sleeves are loose and flowy; I can tell they’re going to get in the way of everything I do.

Only once Anastasia tightens my dress to the point of pain does she let up on the corset. I press my hand to my chest, wondering how long I can stand to wear this getup before I pass out. “You’ll have to look extra special tonight, your highness.”

I frown. Her tone is bitter, so that means I probably won’t like whatever gossip she’s in the mood to share. “Special occasion?”

“You could say that, Miss. King Arthur is back in port.”

As she speaks, I look towards the window. We’ve spent hours getting ready this morning, Priscilla arriving to cake my face in too much makeup and adding little flowers and beads to the braids in my hair. I never go to meetings with my hair bound, not when I usually need it free to be of any use, so this is a new one. With how long they’ve been at it, I could believe Arthur’s docked again without my knowledge.

A sigh escapes me. I looked out my window for half the night expecting to see Zarev, but he didn’t show. Knowing now where Arthur’s kingdom is only makes me antsy for answers, along with everything else he shared. Looking to my map, I feel woefully underprepared for anything today, even if I know that the royals in Camelot have no desire to quiz me on anything.

I can’t ask the King or Queen directly, so I need to get creative with this. If Zarev won’t come back, I’ll need to dig for my own answers.

“I suppose he’s looking for more of my gift,” I muse, feeling Anastasia tense behind me. I almost think she’s going to leave it like that and scurry out like she normally does, treating me like a creepy abnormality. Priscilla left the moment she finished with my makeup, turning up her nose and scurrying out like I’ve personally insulted her today. Turning, I study Anastasia.

I know after my time with Zarev that my magic isn’t truly creepy. Zarev can turn us into shadows and slip through bars, so being able to heal people can’t be all that strange. He left too quickly once we got back to my room for me to question him, but my paintings took a dark turn since. I’m seeing beauty in the shadows and I want to keep exploring.

“It’s not my place to say, Miss,” Anastasia breathes, sweat beading along her brow. “But King Arthur brought along a guest.”

“Did he?” I ask, suddenly curious. Arthur is a selfish man when he visits. He’s never shared his time with me with someone else, but if he was here not long ago he can’t possibly need more magic yet. I’ve tried in the past, and my magic can only reverse time in small bunches. It doesn’t work close together. I have no idea why, and it’s not as if I’ve had the chance to test it.

Anastasia nods her head quickly. “Yes. Didn’t catch his name, but he’s got dark hair and these beady little eyes. Been asking around the castle about you.”

That’s not unusual. People always ask about me, even if their questions largely go unanswered. The guards like to complain about that when escorting me to one of these meetings. “It’s because he’s new to the castle, Anastasia. He’s probably as scary as Arthur is.”

“More, Miss,” Anastasia breathes. “He’s asking all kinds of questions, speaking with the staff and even some of the tortured. The King upped the security you see. Guards keep shooing him off. Michael says he was pestering the gardeners too, Miss.”

I almost thought maybe they were talking about Zarev, but he’s more mysterious than creepy. I hate that Arthur brought a guest, because that makes it seem like I am available at his beck and call. Spending time with him grates on my nerves enough, and I don’t think his guest will make things any easier to tolerate.

My mind drifts when I think of the shadow man, and I mentally remind myself that I don’t even know what exactly Zarev is. Something to do with Death and shadows, but he’s not put a true name to himself yet. I’ve heard him whisper Reaper, but from what I know…

I shake my head. As the stories go, Reapers are the living who are forever cursed to guide the dead into the afterlife. It’s a forever task, endless, lonely, and damning. I may not know anything about the world beyond Tressa, but my mother loved to whisper about Reapers at night to scare me to sleep when I was very young. The cruel curl of her lip as she left taught me she enjoyed my discomfort.

A bunch of rumors, nothing more. I wouldn’t go so far as to call my mother caring, but she had her moments. She never really tried to be a parent, but every once in a while she did something like the moms in my books. She occasionally told me a story, nothing that should be considered a bedtime story but a story nonetheless. Usually about some poor young girl who died a horrible death for not listening to her parents. Her underlying message was clear every time.

Anastasia grasps my hand, a totally out of character move for her. Round eyes peer at me, like she’s trying to figure out something without asking me. “Have you seen the shadows moving lately, Miss?”

Yeah, this doesn’t sound like it’s about to go very well. I decide to play dumb, since I would usually never know about the happenings in the castle anyway. And if there’s speculation about Zarev I don’t want to point fingers. “Can’t say I ever see anything different in my room.”

She’s unperturbed, looking towards the door for a moment before meeting my gaze. “The cook says she saw a man of shadow walking through the halls. Says he was there one moment and disappeared the next, like he was hiding. Rumor got back to the King. He’s mighty paranoid today. Best be careful when you visit with King Arthur.”

My eyes widen. Father must be in an especially foul mood if she’s warning me. The few times he’s raised a hand to me, I’ve always wished it to be the cursed one. He occasionally touches me with his golden hand, but the touch is light and never hurts me. If he struck me with it, I could suffer the same fate as all the others. If he’s in that bad of a mood there’s a chance of that happening.

I want to pry about Zarev but the doors open before I get the chance to ask. I know he’s sneaking around the castle, and if I could prove to anyone that he’s there I would report him.

I would probably report him. I think I would. I know I should. Just because he gave me my first taste of fresh air in years doesn’t mean I’m suddenly on his side.

When I think of him, my mind gets twisted and my body heats. He’s trespassing here in the kingdom, hiding right beneath the King’s nose, and I should hate his mere presence. But I can’t, not when he doesn’t see me as the frightening Princess of Tressa, the girl who controls life.

He sees me as someone who knows next to nothing about life and is trapped in a tower. I don’t like that he might see something real within me. The reactions I have to him and those twisted shadows are troubling enough. I can’t get careless with someone who could turn around and be the enemy. He’s trespassing in Tressa for a reason.

“Rapunzel!” Mother’s clipped voice suddenly echoing off the high beams in my room scatters my thoughts. I was distracted and that almost never happens. “It’s time. Maid, you’re dismissed.”

There’s a touch of annoyance in her voice. I don’t think Anastasia ever hung out long enough before to earn the Queen’s ire, but she’ll regret that later. I barely notice her as she scurries away, Mother’s penetrating gaze snagging my attention.

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