Page 46 of Down from the Tower

When I finish, he presses his hand to his forehead before staring back at me. I briefly catch the image of the clover carved into his palm, but it disappears from view just as quickly. “The gold could corrupt you or poison you. You know how Midas treats his prisoners. The torture can last for years.”

“Yes. Raymundo. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

He nods, pursing his lips. “Mother should be able to watch the tavern for a night or two alone. I don’t like to go back out this soon after I’m back, but she’ll understand if I’m helping you. I think the others can assist for a few days.”

“We’re to the eastern side of Sherwood,” I tell him, and he simply nods. “Can’t be more than a couple hundred yards from the wall. But Midas has his chaos in court to deal with tonight. I doubt he’ll send guards over the wall just yet.”

“It won’t make the path any easier,” Raymundo responds. “If I head out in a few hours I can meet you in the evening tomorrow. There’s been little activity from the ogres on that side of the forest. I haven’t seen any bones the last few weeks. I did hear about some rogue mimics though. The gardens are overflowing again and flowers are escaping.”

I glance over at Rapunzel. She’s too pretty to drag through the woods like this. There’s plenty of evil hiding in the underbrush, and beauty is a curse when others will kill for it. That magic hair of hers will be a liability with all the branches, and it would be easy for someone to grab her by the ends as we walk. Mimics love pretty things, and if any of the Flowerborne are this far south they won’t be much more than demons by this point.

Even if she plaits it at her nape, Rapunzel’s going to stick out. Her features are strong and she certainly resembles her father. Anyone who knows of the Golden King could pick her out and that will be an issue if we run across travelers and once we reach the tavern. The fewer people who can place where they saw her, the better.

And if the ogres are prowling around looking for a snack that’s one more problem to deal with. Mimics and Flowerborne are a whole other matter, not to mention other wanderers or soldiers from the Red Woods or Camelot.

“Keep the princess close,” Raymundo goes on. “She may be useful.”

I tense my jaw, but there’s no response I can give for that. My interests in the princess go well beyond the scope of my mission.

After a few minutes we disconnect the stones, and it goes dull and lifeless in my palm once more. Looking back at Rapunzel, I raise an eyebrow at the sleeping girl.

She does look young, but then, so do I. Time does funny things when you’re playing with magic, and she certainly wears the effects like a coat. Her youth is profound for someone that’s been the gossip of Mystica for nearly thirty years, yet she looks so young and at peace when she sleeps.

A bit of a disaster really, tangled up in her hair and snoring slightly. Her dress is dirty from the ground, the cinched purple and gold pressing on her torso and making her breaths short. There’s two more days of walking ahead of us, and maneuverability is critical in Sherwood. Even if we meet Raymundo partway, he’d have to shadow hop with her to The Missing Shoe for us to speed up the journey, and that’s only if she’s well enough for that.

The dress has to go. At the very least the corset top and probably three inches off the hem so she doesn’t trip. If we rip enough fabric she may be able to do something about her hair too.

Glancing around, I don’t spot Modred. If he’s smart he’ll stay nearby, but not near enough to cause more problems. Tomorrow or the next day I should have enough energy to open the gates and guide him onward. His spirit won’t pass on its own if he’s still loitering this many hours later.

Leaning back against a tree, I force myself to close my eyes. It’s going to be a long trek through Sherwood, and we need all our wits about us if we might have to face the Flowerborne.

13 Rapunzel

When the world brightens outside of the cave, I think we might start over and not be so hostile as we travel. Unfortunately, he’s in an awful mood first thing in the morning. After tossing the water pouch at me, he puts out the fire and gets us ready to travel.

But he is out of his mind if he thinks I’m going to keep stripping off the layers. I gave up the bottom few inches of my skirts just fine, but the corset is another matter.

His brow twitches as he watches me, using part of the fabric of my dress to bind his chest where Midas’ gold struck him. He’s partially cleaned our mixed blood off his skin, the spades on his hands as strange as ever to observe. He doesn’t exactly look better in the morning light, but he doesn’t look worse, either.

Well, he doesn’t at first. But when the light catches his tanned skin, bits of gold shine beneath the bandage. My jaw falls open, realizing the gold he was working at last night is back, and it looks like the same amount of marks are in his skin again.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense. I saw him digging out the gold, forcing the black blood to bubble up as he did it. I’ve already tried to offer to heal him, but he’s resistant. I need to eat something, and we have a lot of walking ahead to wherever he’s planning on taking me. My energy is down, and as much as I’d like to help, he’s against it. I have the whole day to try and change his mind, but avoiding my help out of stubbornness is a little ridiculous.

“You need to be free to move while walking through the forest,” he snaps, brushing his dark hair from his face. It snaps me out of my thoughts and back to the current problem. His red-orange eyes are more alive today, somewhat reminding me of last night when he jumped awake and attacked me. His shirt is gone, shredded from the gold, and I’m not sure if he tried to salvage any fabric or not. The cloak partially covers him, but he’s still mostly bare from the waist up aside from the bad binding across his pecs.

And now he wants me to remove my corset. People will get wild ideas if they see us walking around. Or worse, if they just see me. I’ve already started walking around barefoot, and I can hear my mother's judgmental voice for every little move I make.

“You know people will think I’ve gone mad,” I argue, crossing my arms over the bodice. I can’t remove it on my own as is, and letting Zarev undress me feels like kicking the line of decency completely off a cliff. It makes me think all too much about his hands grabbing the front and ripping it open. “I can’t run through the forest-”

“Sherwood-”

“-through Sherwood half naked!”

His eyes rake over me, making my blush, and my legs snap together. The breeze is nice when it blows beneath my skirt, cooling my legs considerably, but it’s going to work against me when night comes. At least my feet don’t hurt anymore since Zarev suggested I heal them with my new gift.

Or my old gift. I suppose it depends how you look at it.

“You’re still dressed modestly enough,” he replies with a shrug. “This isn’t your father’s castle, and the woods aren’t as strict as a Kingdom. You will blend in fine. Better, in fact, since you won’t be flaunting your wealth with that golden top.”

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