Page 66 of Down from the Tower

The only other thing that sitting at the tavern gives me is time. Zarev is less forthcoming with his stories after the first night, like the memories pain him. When I asked Raymundo three days ago about his wolf side, he looked stunned that Zarev confided in me at all.

Now, I have spare time to practice my magic. Wrapping Zarev’s neck during sex is both titillating and terrifying. One wrong move and he could end up like the Flowerborne I killed, though his neck is quite a bit thicker than the blue flower’s stem-like throat.

I still shudder at the memory.

Glancing at my hands, I try to focus my magic there again. I need to get control of it if I ever plan on fighting, and nothing in that notebook tells me about anyone who has magic like mine. The way Raymundo’s siblings stare at my hair tells me it’s an anomaly, and the curious looks I get make me nervous someone will put the pieces together and figure out who I am.

Thankfully, there are so many kids who live and work here there isn’t time for a stranger to talk to me. The tavern is a cozy family environment, and I get to meet almost all of Raymundo’s siblings as they come around to check out my hair or ask about Zarev. There’s seventeen siblings total, so I’m never really alone anytime I come down here.

I mean, go Dahlia. But the only thing I can glean from Raymundo’s siblings is that their father died some years ago. The youngest ones have to be at least eight, so I can’t quite gauge if they all have the same father. But my lord, they all look so similar whenever I see one of them.

Genevieve, another sister of Raymundo’s and closer to my age than Elsie, has a tiny bit of air magic. We spend some time together when she isn’t working the tavern or running messages between here and a small village nearby. I like spending the mornings with her when Zarev is busy, but I feel those days are numbered. We’re going to have to do something soon, and I can tell that Zarev is antsy to move on from here.

It’s not that he doesn’t like where we are. He seems elated. But it makes him uneasy too, and try as he does to hide it, I know Raymundo feels the same.

I wish I could figure out more about the Reapers, but Zarev claims it’s good to understand the workings of Mystica before learning about the dead. I adamantly disagree, but this is one story he doesn’t seem eager to tell.

Standing outside the tavern one morning, Genevieve points up in the midmorning light, and I watch as the lines of shoes that hang high above the tavern shake in a breeze she creates.

Genevieve is nicer than any of the other girls I ever met around my age. Priscilla and Anastasia are the closest as of late, and they are nothing like friends. Genevieve is kind, if not reserved, and she offered to help me learn to channel my magic and pass the time when I’m alone.

Elsie still seems bitter about my royal status, though there isn’t much to be done about that. I’m hoping she comes around, as I think there’s a chance we could be friends, but she doesn’t seem keen on the idea as of yet.

Standing off the path, we don’t draw much attention. Midweek there seem to be less people about, and she said the weekends are when the tavern is packed because of the markets around here.

“Focus the magic the way you would as if you held something,” she explains, pointing high towards the steepled roof of The Missing Shoe. I’ve gotten used to the design of this place, add ons to either side of the cozy front door, and it looks like a lot of love went into the building over the years. High above, where Genevieve channels her magic, lines of shoes blow in the breeze. It’s only one shoe of each kind, something she claims is to honor the fallen. The lines are so high I can’t even scent anything on the breeze, and she claims that’s the idea. “Magic is tangible when you want it to be. Ray taught me that.”

I haven’t seen Zarev or Ray play much with the shadows. But if they were a gift after death, I suppose playing with them might not be the first thing on their mind.

Glaring down at my palms, they softly glow. It doesn’t create the heat I always associated healing with in my hair, but trying to pull the magic to my palms instead of my head is strange. For years I never even thought about where the magic was channeled.

“Good,” she continues, rocking back and forth on her heels. The air under her control follows the push and pull of her body, while all I can do is make my hands glow. We aren’t actually sure if I can produce gold like Midas, but I can melt, so there’s that.

I haven’t tried anything else with my hair aside from the bedroom activities with Zarev. If I learned how to control the magic in my hair, I could strangle for real instead of play and be a force whenever we’re on the road again. I’m going to need to protect myself, and waiting until I can touch someone to melt them might put me in danger.

If I were to die, the healing gift dies too. I’ve tried over the last two weeks, but nothing I do heals Zarev's chest; the gold remains. He seems resigned to his fate until a new solution comes along, but I’m determined to figure this out. If I can heal, why can’t I fix what the gold is doing? Midas isn’t close enough to influence the gold embedded into his skin.

I shove the thoughts away, trying to focus. Pressing my palms together, I focus the heat and make a swiping motion downward. The thinnest of lines appears burned in the dirt, and I lose all focus to clap my hands. “Oh!”

“See?” Genevieve clasps her hands together. “It takes practice. You have a lot of power, so you should be able to control it over time. You definitely need to keep exercising your abilities though. Like any skill, practice makes perfect.”

“You’re quite chipper,” I reply, letting the magic fizzle away.

“I’m excited that my teaching is working,” she replies, clapping her hands. “Other than Ray, none of my siblings have any magic. Some of them are jealous, like the triplets, and some are more or less indifferent, like Thomas. There’s no one who gets what it’s like to have power like this.” She nudges me with her hip, flashing me a smile. “But you do. Having you around is nice. No one ever stays here this long.”

My smile slips. If Zarev has his way we won’t be here much longer.

Genny refuses to let our good moods disappear, and we continue to practice until I’m slicked in sweat and feeling like I’m getting nowhere. We break for the afternoon, knowing the Reapers should be back soon, and I hurry inside for a drink and to change into something else.

I grab the book Dahlia lent me on my way back down, following Elsie’s instructions that her mother is in the back. I walk to the office, rapping on the door, and Dahlia’s pleasant voice carries through to the hall. “Open.”

Pushing inside, she beams at me. I don’t get to chat with the tavern owner every day, but when we do it’s really nice. I enjoy her company and her motherly touch more than she will ever understand. “Ah, Rapunzel, what brings you back this early in the day?”

I smile, handing her the book. She lifts her brows and stares at me, taking it from my hands. “I’ve read it twice. I took some notes, and Zarev handed me my own map a couple days ago. He had to bring me another because I made so many marks on the first.”

She laughs, taking the book and returning it to the hiding spot behind the desk. “Ah. He’s meeting tradesmen out on the road then. This is a prime time to travel right now. Weather’s good, and there’s a lot of movement in the woods and around the coast this time of year. You would have to wait a few weeks to meet someone carrying maps otherwise.”

Smiling, I nod. “Thank you for letting me borrow it. I’m still confused about some things, but it helps me get a broader understanding of Mystica. Midas and Dorah… they didn’t share much with me.”

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