Page 4 of Rapunzel's Gambit (All That Glitters)

“You could lock me in a tower,” I suggested, eyes narrowed. “Or marry me off to any stranger you choose. Isn’t that your plan, anyway?”

Father rolled his eyes so hard that he could have examined his own brain as he let out a long stream of air, cheeks puffed out so he resembled a plum more than ever. Then he forced a strained smile onto his face.

“Dearest,darlingdaughter, if you don’t reveal the location of my closest friend’s son right now, I swear I will marry you off to the next man who walks through the door, and I won’t care if it’s the chimney sweep.”

I put a hand up to my chest and widened my eyes in mock surprise. “You always suspect me when your friends go missing. That hurts.”

“Am I ever wrong?”

I raised a solitary eyebrow, glad I could make Father just as angry as he’d made me that morning. “All the time.” I went back to strumming my harp. “Did you know that the gardener’s shed near the vegetable garden is always unattended during the midday meal?” I shot him a wicked expression. “Harold’s head is so empty; he might have been hunting for a replacement among the lettuce.”

Father turned. “Go, go, go!” Two of the manservants sprinted back down the hall in the direction of the vegetable gardens.

I resumed playing the harp, immensely satisfied by how the gentle music was at such great odds with the venom in my father’s gaze. Minutes trickled by as he continued to glower. I smiled adoringly at him. “You’re such a wonderful father to listen and be so supportive of my musical endeavors.”

His eyelid twitched and he didn’t respond.

“Shall I play you another song?” I turned a page on my sheet music and narrowed my eyes. “This next number is called ‘The Vengeance Sonata.’It’s one of my favorites.”

I played the melody, relishing how the vein pulsing in Father’s temple was growing more pronounced with each minute that trickled by.

“Your Majesty!” The head servant had returned, panting. “We found Lord Morvain’s son shoved into the gardener’s shed. He was unconscious and seems to have been drugged. He’s now in the infirmary being tended to.” The servant shot an uncomfortable look my way.

I put a hand up to my mouth and gasped dramatically. “Scales above, who would do such a terrible thing?”

“Leave us,” Father growled to the servants. “Let me know once Harold is awake.” Looking quite relieved to vacate the scene, they all scurried away, shutting the door with a snap behind them.

Without breaking eye contact, I idly strummed my harp. “I’m nearly done with this song, then I’ll finish getting ready for the ball, just like you want me to.” I flashed him a wicked smile. “I’m eager to meet all the rest of these men you’re so anxious to marry me off to. Will a chimney sweep be in attendance?”

He ignored my question. “Give me the rest of it.” He held his hand out expectantly.

With a smile, I handed over my sheet music. “Is that what you wanted?”

In a fit of rage, he ripped the papers to shreds and scattered the pieces into the air. “The wyrmsleep! Whatever you drugged Harold with! Where is it? Is there more, or did you use it all? Turn out your pockets.”

I watched the bits of paper flutter down. “This dress doesn’t have pockets, Daddy dearest. Besides, wyrmsleep isn’t even deadly. I don’t know what you’re so worked up about.” How I relished using his own words against him.

“Give me your handbag.”

I gestured at the table where it lay. Father wrenched it open and extracted a simple fan, a comb, my small tin of mints, and the tube of lip stain. Unsatisfied, he spent an additional five minutes scouring the bag for any hidden pockets or concealed seams.

“Take your shoes off,” he ordered.

I slipped them off, followed by my stockings, then wriggled my bare toes as he shook the shoes as if he expected packets of powdered sleep aid to tumble out. I raised an eyebrow. “See? I’m innocent.”

“As innocent as the dragon who keeps stealing all of my oxen,” Father snapped. He closed his eyes and took a long, steadying breath. “Why are you doing this, Rapunzel? This is the third man this year.”

“Why do you keep assumingIdid it?”

A smile curled Father’s lips. “Because you’re exactly like I am, that’s why—brilliant and scheming.”

“And I’m the person I am today because of what’s been modeled to me. Aren’t you proud?” I matched his steely gaze, my jaw jutted out defiantly.

Father sighed heavily and ignored my question. “I just can’t figure out where you put the rest of the wyrmsleep. Do I need to have a handmaiden come to search the rest of your person?”

A tentative knock echoed around the room.

“Enter,” Father boomed. The head servant was back. “What news, Reginald? How’s Harold?”

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