Page 58 of Down from the Tower

It’s a massive baking pan and I squeal when he lifts me from the floor, his strange height making him impossibly tall. Upside down I feel immediately nauseous, but I can see into the tub where there’s bits of my hair and what looks like separated skin sitting in a ring all along the edge.

I twist and throw my hands in his direction, begging my magic to come back but it isn’t listening. Desperately I throw my hair at him, unsure I have the energy to do much but needing to try. It tangles all around his head and neck, the folded lengths twisting and knotting around him like a noose made of hair.

Desperately, I grab as much of my hair as I can between my fists and, deciding it’s a better fate than getting tossed in a baking dish, throw myself forward with all my might.

It knocks him off balance, and we go down against the sweltering floor one more. I gasp as my hair pulls and he takes a strangled breath behind me.

I don’t think about what I’m doing because it’ll make me reconsider my madness. Rolling to the side I force myself to my feet, the adrenaline pushing through the pain. Once standing, I pull hard at everything trapped around his neck.

The petals get in the way of him pulling at my hair, which gives me the opportunity I need. When he leans closer to try and wrestle me into the dish, I go for it. Throwing the rest of my hair as best as I can, tangles wrap all around his flowery face and neck, making the petals droop.

He gasps, digging his hands into my hair. My scalp screams in protest, and those traitorous tears well up again.

I scream when he pulls hard, and the magic spirals out once more. I feel it in the heat of my head, see it in the golden shine of my locks, and when I desperately pull again there’s a sickening crack.

Grasping, I drop the tension when he slumps forward. There’s an explosion to the right, and in a daze I glance that way and away from the body.

I almost forgot Zarev was here.

His eyes flicker to me, looking me over, and his hand is pressed to the sunflower face of the other creature. A hard edge enters his gaze before he looks back at the monster. “Nothing else to say?”

“My Queen is my lifeline. I will not betray her highness for scum.”

“So be it,” he snaps, and I watch the shadows slide from his palm, pressed to her face, and over the monster. She cries out, the only voice in this now quiet house, and when the body starts to tremble her neck slumps forward.

Without a head.

Zarev’s still holding the sunflower face, and it crumbles in his grasp as the monster falls to the ground, her unnatural limbs during green for a moment before fading to brown.

Like a dying plant.

He drops what’s left of the face, nothing more than powder, and paces over to me. His eyes are wild as he looks at me, an unhinged shine in them as he walks over with hurried steps.

I glance down at the mess on the floor. The monster is still tangled in my hair, and there’s coppery spots forming along my locks. My legs shake, like they’ve been doing since I realized I ran straight into danger, and then Zarev’s warm palms slide over my cheeks.

Hissing at the touch, he gentles his hand on the side that burns. “I knew you could do it.”

“What?” I ask, my vision growing spotty. The last of my energy is sapped and I can’t imagine doing anything else.

“Kill the monster,” he says simply, studying my face. “They did a number on you.”

“I - I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, Princess. You fight decent for someone who grew up in a tower.”

I barely nod, sagging forward against his hands. He adjusts his hold, and for the first time, I realize his skin is slicked in sweat. The house is still too warm.

He tugs at my hair, and I cry out in pain. “Rapunzel, I need to cut it.”

“My hair?”

“It’s too tangled and we’re too hot. The house is too hot. Their oven is something straight out of the underworld. We have to go. I can’t untangle all of it right now.”

“Try,” I whisper, and Zarev sighs. It’s a petty thing, like carrying my corset and shoes, but I’m shedding all the parts of myself that make me who I am.

If I’m not the girl with the long, golden hair, who am I?

“Wrap your arms around me,” he says, and I follow his lead. He could drop me on the floor right now and I wouldn’t fight. His body is warm but damp in spots, and I think he’s bleeding too. “You need all your strength now, Princess. I can’t heal you.”

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