Page 44 of Down from the Tower

“Don’t doubt the magic that can come out of Wonderland,” Modred snaps, and I shoot him a glare. He might be stuck in limbo until I help him pass on, but he doesn’t get to keep making jabs at her.

Rapunzel shrugs, and the golden tint to her hair disappears. When she doesn’t focus, the magic doesn’t seem to work. “I’m just telling you, spirit, there’s nothing mysterious about my cat. He’s a friend, unlike you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Princess,” Modred scoffs, glaring at me once more. I hiss as the gold finally slides free of my flesh, taking a shuddering breath as the nugget leaves my skin.

It’s a bigger chunk than I realized. I didn’t really stop to consider what size the pieces of gold were when Midas struck me, but this one is several inches long and at least an inch thick. If I were human, this would kill me on impact.

But I’m not, and there can’t be any question in Midas’ mind now about that. He has to know the repercussions of the magic he wields. I survived, so I’m not an average man. I didn’t even stop fighting him.

Surely he can assume I’m a Reaper. Tressa might be locked behind golden walls but Midas’ reach is far.

Modred mutters again, floating senselessly around us. He’s going to be too much of a burden if he keeps bringing up things to confuse the princess.

Shifters… that’s a whole different thing to discuss with the Golden Princess. I’m not going there, not while our lives hang in an uneven balance while we struggle to get out of Sherwood.

She doesn’t understand the danger we are in, not yet.

“That looks bad,” Rapunzel mutters, abandoning her side of the fire and catching my attention again. She crawls over, tangling in her dirty skirts, and it isn’t until she sits and brings her feet around that I notice they are swollen and bleeding in spots in the firelight.

Before I can ask, she moves and the last bits of the hair tied around her arm falls free. I reach out and grasp her arm, staring.

There’s still dried blood, but the spot looks like it’s healed. Sliding my clean hand up, I prod at the spot. Her eyes widen but she doesn’t wince, and I meet her gaze after a moment.

“It… it worked?” she asks, wonder and surprise in her voice. Even Modred has stopped talking to observe the healed skin.

“What did you do,” I prompt, wanting to know her process. This is a type of magic that people will kill for.

She can heal, and she can reverse time. No wonder the Golden Flower of Tressa stayed locked in her tower. If Midas knew the extent of her gift, he would never want to chance her escaping.

Yet here we are.

“I’m not sure,” she says, rubbing the side of her head. “I just wrapped it and started envisioning the magic. I whispered the chant Midas taught me to use to reverse age, but it didn’t do anything. It kind of heats my skull when it happens. The chant is usually what I focus on and the magic works, but this is different. Bringing back my own youth doesn’t really work on me. I’ve never needed to cast the magic on myself when I use it so often. I’ve maintained my youth through the years. I should be older than this.”

Yes, I remember thinking the same thing when I first saw her. She’s spiraling, and I do nothing to stop her as my curiosity grows. “Did you create a new chant?”

She shrugs, unperturbed that I switched the conversation back so quickly. “No. I just tried to focus on the flow of the magic. I hummed, does that count? I didn’t know what to chant and I suck at rhyming. So I just… thought. And the magic flowed. And now…”

She gestures to her arm, which speaks for itself. The flesh is healed, and as she twists it around and flexes her fingers it doesn’t appear like she’s in any pain. She managed to heal it without having to weave some sort of complicated spell or know how to reconnect ligaments, skin and blood vessels.

It’s inherent. Whatever sired her magic is something that I’ve never seen before.

I glance at her other arm, where there’s still a spine sticking out and the blood coating her sleeve. “Now do the other side.”

Rapunzel frowns, twisting her fingers through the golden hair. “But, your chest-”

“I’m half alive,” I say, watching her eyes widen. “I can deal with this for now. You need to heal the other arm to fight the poison in the spines. Lean over, I’ll help pull it out.”

She hesitates, and I get the feeling she isn’t used to putting herself in front of others. Her parents used her for her magic, and anyone who visited did the same. Telling her to take care of herself looks like an almost painful task, but I wave her in closer and grasp the spine.

When our eyes meet, I lift the opposite hand and slide it over her lips. Hooded eyes stare back, trapping me in those ocean blues. “On three.”

She sleeps not long after. I had her try to wrap her feet and heal those too, and despite all her arguing she managed to do that before she started swaying. She’s using too much magic, and the adrenaline high from escaping the castle wore off. She’s too tired to continue.

I wave her off, removing the last of the gold myself. I hand her my flask of water, her eyes narrowing when I produce it from my cloak. I didn’t mention it this entire time, but I was more concerned with putting distance between us and the castle before healing her. Despite her curiosity, she seems to forget I was a wanderer in the castle. I didn’t have a room, and I carried what I needed with me. The flask was always there, and it came in handy since we ran from the tower.

Once I know she’s mostly asleep, I pull out the seeing stone. I can share that magic with her tomorrow, but I’m more worried about checking in now.

“You’re not going to help me,” Modred whines, and I glance up at him from across the fire. He grew quiet while she worked, resigned to watching us since there’s nothing he can do. “You’re not going to send me on?”

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