Page 42 of Down from the Tower

“Lucky me. Think you could turn back the hands of time and put me in my body?”

She flinches, spinning to glare at him. “I - I melted you! I killed you. I don’t think there’s anything to put back.”

Pursing my lips, I think she’s right. I saw the flames in the castle as we flew over the wall. There’s a good chance Midas chose to burn the evidence of Modred’s murder, and possibly the rest of the Court of Camelot if he could get away with it. I wouldn’t put it past him to eradicate a threat for self-serving means, but killing Arthur is a direct blow to Camelot, and it could start a war Midas doesn’t want to be a part of.

“So glad I could be your test dummy,” Modred growls, and Rapunzel’s attention is entirely on him. I use the opportunity to grab her arm and tear the spine free of her skin. She screams, and I slide a hand up to press over her open lips.

Leaning in, I breathe into her ear. She stiffens the closer I get, her breaths turning rapid. “Shh, Princess. We don’t need any more beasties joining us tonight.”

She snarls behind my hand, and I can feel the slight dampness against my other palm from the blood. She squirms, though I’m not sure what she thinks she’s going to get away with as she shoves against me. After a moment I let go, and she falls forward along with her momentum.

Growling, she shoves away the curtain of blonde hair covering her face. That hair is something else, and the slight sting it left on my skin is jarring. I’ve never seen hair do anything like that before, anywhere in Mystica. “Don’t do that.”

“They have to come out. Poison will spread until the cure is given.” I pause, tapping a finger at my chin. We have no medicines on us, and it’s not something I bother with since the shadows claimed me. But Rapunzel is still very human, and poison can kill her just like anyone else.

Unless…

“Have you ever used that gift of yours to heal?” I ask her, crossing my arms. Surely if she can heal enough to reverse age, she can heal wounds too.

She shakes her head, glancing away. Her fingers twist into the dirty skirt, eyes looking towards something I can’t see in the darkness. “Just for youth. De-aging. I’ve never been asked to heal a wound before.”

That sounds like a waste of potential. “Well, no time like the present. Give it a try.”

She frowns, her blue eyes darting back to me. They seem to gleam in the light of the fire, and for the first time I notice a small, golden ring circling her iris. I never noticed it before, but maybe it’s just the glow in the cave. “I don’t know how to start. Midas showed me the way to use my power.”

That’s a strange thing to say. Midas destroys with his golden touch. His daughter heals. “Do whatever it is that you do when you restore a person’s youth. It’s the same process I’d imagine.”

“There’s a chant that goes with that!”

“Is there?” I tilt my head, and her eyes narrow at the movement. I remember the works she recited to Arthur in the parlor, but they didn’t sound magical. They sounded transactional, like something she was prompted to say but didn’t mean. “Or did your father tell you that?”

She shakes her head, her brows pinching. “Well, yes-”

“And you’ve never tried to see what else you can do?” I go on, a frown tugging at her lips. “Magic isn’t just one thing, Rapunzel. Your abilities are only limited by you. Midas can touch people, turn them to gold, and throw golden weapons out of thin air. You think your only purpose in life is to be the youth potion to a bunch of old bastards?”

She jumps up, pointing a finger at me. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“I know you’re a sad little damsel,” I taunt, watching her cheeks burn at my jab. Her golden hair seems a little brighter, so perhaps that magic within her is fueled by emotion. “Locked in a tower, all alone with a cat. Forgotten until you’re useful and then locked away again.”

“Stop it,” she growls.

“I bet I know more about your kingdom than you do,” I go on, stepping closer to her. She balls up her fists, and I’m probably in danger of getting slashed with her hair again. That’s a trick I’d like to study, but I have a feeling she knows very little about that ability. “Have you ever walked to the marketplace, or checked the nonexistent graveyards in your kingdom? The rivers and small fountains and ponds that flow freely at all hours of the day?”

Something nags at the back of my mind, but I’m too focused on our dispute at the moment. The pains in my chest distract me, and the thought slips away as quickly as it came.

“You don’t know anything,” she snaps, balling up her hands. “The people love Midas.”

I snort. “Do they? They tolerate a tyrant King because they don’t know any better. The walls around Tressa are impenetrable, and the only people who breach the city are allies or enemies of Midas. They don’t know anything about the rest of Mystica.”

“Not everyone is as hidden away as I was,” she grumbles. “People could know about the other parts of the country.”

“Yet they hide behind a wall of gold?” Pacing towards her, I watch those pretty eyes ignite with rage, and she tilts her chin to glare up at me. “Those walls are new, Golden Girl. They have only existed for half a century. And the Midas I met last night isn’t nearly that old in appearance, but he’s the only one to ever hold the Golden Touch. So explain that to me.”

She wets her lips. “I don’t know-”

“So if Midas lies about his age, his kingdom, his daughter, you don’t think he might lie about what you can do?”

“He wouldn’t-”

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