Rescuing Rapunzel (7 page)

Even the seam of the door was jagged, like chunks of rock had been removed to create it, and filled in with the wood. Whoever had done this had gone to great pains to make sure the entrance was hidden from the casual observer.

“It is only painted on the outside,” Nick remarked, as he chipped a little chunk of paint off the wood.

“It is a good disguise–most would not see it.” Penn glanced at him. “Unless they stumbled upon it.” His eyebrow waggled.

Nick grimaced at his friend.

“And look at that,” Penn said.

Nick spun around. They stood in a garden, neatly sorted with rows of vegetables interspersed with sections of green plants Nick did not recognize, but Penn was pointing at the long, golden rope that hung from the window.

It swung in the breeze, just waiting to be climbed.

“What kind of rope is that?” Penn asked. “I have never seen one quite that texture.”

Nick held up his arm, barring his friend’s steps. “Wait outside. Signal if someone comes.”

“Of course, m’lord,” Penn said, sketching an elaborate bow. “As the future duke, you get to have all the fun.” He heaved a mock sigh, but said nothing more as he went through the door.

Nick approached the rope with caution, and it was not until he got closer that he realized it was not rope at all.

It was hair.

Long, golden hair bound in multiple braids and twisted together.

He looked up to the window. That had to be twenty ells. Could he really climb it? Would it hold him? He wondered how many horse tails it would take to create such a long rope. Eventually, with no other option–he had come here to get into the tower, after all–Nick took it, and it was soft and silky in his hands. It felt, undeniably, like hair. Why would somebody make such a rope? Shrugging off his doubts, he braced his legs against the wall and climbed.

It seemed an age–and a very strange one at that–before he reached the window. The hair…the rope was smooth and fine as opposed to the coarse fiber of his prior experience, and he found himself slipping a number of times before he got the knack of it. When he finally pulled himself to the ledge, he swung his legs inside and was met by a blood-curdling scream.

“No, wait, please.” He held up his hands, palms toward her.

“Who are you? What have you done to my mother?” Rapunzel stood before him, wide-eyed and shaking, brandishing a pair of scissors at him. His muscles slackened, and his arms fell limp at his sides. He did not move, could not move, though it had nothing to do with the scissors, or not wanting to alarm her.

She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her skin was pale and creamy, her lips rosebud red, her eyes as startling as emeralds in a field of snow, and her hair…Oh Lord.

He had climbed a rope of actual, living, growing hair. Attached to her head.

Rapunzel made a stabbing motion with the scissors. “Well?”

Right. She had asked him a question. “I have not done anything to your mother.” Sense returning to him, he dropped to the floor. He put his hands up and stopped where he was, trying not to look threatening.

She scrambled backward until she reached the bed, where she waved the scissors at him with one hand while fumbling under the pillow with the other, never taking her eyes off him.

“You must have, she only just left. How dare you!” Her hand reappeared, clutching a dagger.

This was not going as Nick had hoped. Rapunzel slashed wildly with the dagger, and–while she was far enough away that he was in no danger–she was obviously untrained and he worried she would injure herself.

The next time she lunged, he stepped into the charge and grabbed her knife hand, using it to turn her in a half-circle so that her back was to him. He closed the distance between them, grabbed her other hand and crossed both over her chest.

“I did not harm your mother. And I will not harm you. ”

The scissors fell to the floor, clattering on the stone and she let out a soft cry, twisting and fighting against him.

He kept her still in his arms.

“I do not believe you,” she said, stomping her foot, trying to hit his boot. He danced around, moving his feet out of her way, making the two of them rock back and forth.

“Your mother is fine, I promise you.” He released her and, keeping hold of the dagger, stepped back to the window.

She darted backward across the room. The rope of hair, which still hung out the window, zipped by his arm. “Why are you here?”

“I only wish to speak to you.”

Chapter 11

He released me.

He let me go.

I could not breathe, could not move. He had let me go. He still held my dagger but made no move toward me. Instead, he tipped the blade this way and that, before tucking it into his clothes. He showed me his empty hands then met my gaze. His eyes were a startling blue that matched his riding cape.

I felt an utter fool for ever thinking him a boy. Over a head taller than me, maybe more, he looked like he could fold me up and tuck me into his cloak and carry me away.

“I have no need to speak to anyone,” I replied, holding my hands out, ready to grab for the nearest thing. My scissors were on the floor in the center of the room and I wondered if I could get back to them.

“Everyone needs someone to talk to,” he said, a bit of a smile on his face though the expression did nothing to soothe me.

“Your attention is not needed or appreciated,” I said. “Be gone with you.” My heart thundered and I stood as tall as I could, mimicking the poses Mother had used on me, hoping the same posturing would intimidate him as it had me.

He kept his hands in the air, which only made his chest look broader, and I took another step away from him.

“My lady, please.”

I raised my voice like Mother. “There is nothing here of value. Just leave.” My voice wavered with the last word, my attempt at bravado starting to sway. I did not know if I could remain strong, for his piercing eyes watched me so intently.

He tipped his head to the side as though he knew not what to do with me. “Are you all right, my lady?” he asked, one of his hands lowering.

“I am fine. Fine enough to handle the likes of you, I think,” I said, though I felt no confidence in my bluff.

“I do not wish to harm you,” he said. “I am merely here to offer my assistance.”

“I need nothing,” I replied.

He raised his eyebrow–thick and black, so dark it seemed almost blue in the light. “If you are certain.”

“I am most certain.” I took a step toward my scissors though it unfortunately brought me that much closer to him. It could not be helped. “Be off with you.”

He tipped his head down. “As you wish.” He turned to the window, threw his leg over the sill and grabbed the hair in his hand.

I took another step forward, my scissors just in front of me, and I knelt, scooping them up. I held the scissors aloft, ready to stab at him if he changed his mind and decided to come back in.

“My name is Nick,” he said, meeting my gaze.

“I do not care.”

“Pity,” he said. “For I care about you, Rapunzel.”

If he knew my name, what else did he know? Obviously, he knew how to get inside the outer wall. Did he have means to get back here? Would he try?

He reached into his cloak, and a wave of panic crested inside me that he would pull a weapon. Or if he were a wizard, he could be readying himself to throw some spell at me. A scream sat inside my throat, but years of holding back every cry kept it lodged there, unable to form, even in this moment of utter fear.

From inside the folds of his cloak, he removed my dagger. He laid it on the windowsill, then climbed down my hair.

Before he reached the end, he glanced up at me, let go of the hair and fell to the ground. He landed on his feet, shook his head and turned to look at me.

And waved.

I did not move, shocked that he would have the audacity to wave at me.

Frightened he might change his mind and come back, I started jerking the hair inside as fast as my arms would let me. I fell to the floor, tears erupting from my eyes in an unstoppable downpour. I put my hand on the floor, wincing when I bumped something sharp.

My dagger.

He had left me my dagger. And he had not hurt me.

Not in any way. Frightened me, yes, but harmed me? Not in the least, nor did he attempt to. Even when he pulled me to him, he had only startled me.

I did not understand.

Mother had always said that outsiders were dangerous.

Yet he did not hurt me.

I picked up the dagger, staring at the shiny blade as if it could tell me what exactly had just happened.

The blade remained mute.

Chapter 12

“So, if the introductions are now made,” Penn said, glancing at Nick with a smirk on his face.

Nick growled at him as he climbed onto his horse.

“What, no invitation for tea?” Penn asked.

“You are not funny,” Nick replied as he tapped Ovet on the side.

“I am quite comical. All the women comment on it.”

Nick headed into the woods, away from the tower. Behind him, Penn was finally keeping his mouth shut. Nick glanced over his shoulder to see if Rapunzel watched from her window, but she did not. He had barely hit the ground before Rapunzel’s hair had disappeared back into the tower.

They rode for a short distance in silence, Nick focusing on getting out of the thicker part of the woods, if only so he would stop reliving every single moment in the tower and how he had been so wrong about everything.

Somewhere along the way, he had convinced himself she would be grateful, run into his arms, begging him to take her from that tower and all would be well in the world.

He had not expected such hostility and fire in her petite frame.

And what a lovely frame it was. Unlike the girls at Hohburg Castle, she was not perfectly coiffed, not overly adorned with jewels. She was simple. More naturally beautiful than probably any female he had ever known.

Yet she had been afraid of him. Terrified.

And he knew not how to handle that.

“I was thinking,” Penn said, jarring Nick out of his thoughts.

“That is a challenge for you, is it not?” Nick countered.

“Oh, now you find your wit.”

“You bring it out,” Nick replied.

Penn smirked. “I was thinking, I believe I might know where that woman was headed.”

“And what makes you say that?” Nick asked.

Penn pointed to the west. “What is straight that way?”

Nick shrugged. “The heart of the Black Forest?”

“On the other side,” Penn replied.

Nick stiffened in the saddle. “Gruenewald Province.”

Gruenewald Province was run by the Duke of Gruenewald, Penn’s cousin, and a more dastardly scrap of spite and arrogance, Nick had never known. Gruenewald Province bordered Bryan’s home, Thalunburg Province, with the small stretch that belonged to Penn, the Eisenburg Estates wedged between. On the other side of Thalunburg lay Hohburg Province, and the three large provinces made a “U” with the Black Forest in the center.

Gruenewald’s holdings, the way the crow flew, sat straight across the Black Forest from Hohburg Province.

And Gruenewald hated every one of the Charming Nobles. Nick never truly knew the reason, beyond some twisted jealousy against Penn that extended to him and Bryan. But if that was where the woman headed, Bryan would find no assistance.

“The woman might not have been heading there,” Nick said.

“What else is that way?”

“Your house.”

Penn snorted. “I think I would know the woman if she came to my holdings. I can stand on a tree stump and see from border to border.”

Nick let out a laugh. “True.”

“Why do you think I come to your home so much? I am either related to or have already experienced every woman on my lands.” He clicked at his horse, increasing his pace. “So what was the girl like?” Penn asked. “Was she a loon?”

“No, not in the slightest.” Nick clicked at his own horse to match Penn’s pace. “I think she thought I was, though.”

“What, did your great charm fail you?” Penn shifted in his saddle. “I knew I should have gone up there. I can get anyone to do anything I want.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “You think you can.”

Penn shook his head. “I have a way with women. I can woo even the biggest shrew if I so choose.”

“You certainly talk about it,” Nick replied. “But I doubt you would have fared any better than I.”

“Of course I would have,” Penn said. “I am, after all, me.”

“Oh really? And what would you have done?”

“She lives in a tower. I assume she cannot get down?”

Nick thought of that long braid of hair, unable to fathom how she would be able to descend with it. “No, probably not.”