by Caroline Lee
No, not the open window. Zelle’s eyes widened. The ladder.
And the call, from outside: “Rapunzel! Rapunzel?”
He’d run from the station, not caring what he stepped in, or who he knocked over. Oh, he’d intended his return to Everland to be stately and regal, to show Zelle that he was serious in his intentions, but waiting for the train to slow, he found himself bouncing on the balls of his feet. And when the door finally opened, he bounded onto the platform, and was running by the time he hit the street.
There was no one home at her house. He’d made a proper fool of himself, pounding on the front door, calling her name, and her parents’, and peering through the parlor window where he’d stood less than a week ago. They weren’t there.
Chert. They had to be there. Maybe both doctors were out on calls? And maybe Zelle was in her garden? She’d said that she loved growing things, and described how she enjoyed the hours she spent in the walled garden behind the house. He took off at a run, looking for a way to reach the alley behind her house.
Finally, there! He thought he recognized the architecture, and there was a walled garden with a pretty iron gate. Dmitri slowed, panting, about to pull the gate open, when he spied the ladder. Why would there be a ladder, propped against the house? Leading, apparently, to an open second-story window?
And then he remembered Zelle’s taste for adventure. It’d been five days since he’d torn her world apart with his news about her family. Had she gotten over the hurt already? Had she gone off on another adventure? Had she run away from the pain? The knowledge that her parents must be unaware of her escape had him moving towards the ladder, craning his neck to see into her window, terrified for her.
What if she’d run? What if she was hurt someplace, on her quest to experience life? What if she needed him, and he wasn’t there? What if—
That’s when he saw her braid, dangling out the window, and the band around his heart eased, to be replaced by an entirely different band. “Zelle?” He grimaced at how his voice cracked, and tried again. “Zelle? Rapunzel?”
Nothing. No response, no movement. Was she just sitting there at the window, ignoring him? He raised his voice, no longer caring if the neighbors heard. “Rapunzel? Rapunzel!” A pause, and no response from the long braid. “Listen, Zelle, I can see your hair!”
Then, a noise, like someone scrambling, and her face appeared. Her beautiful, perfect face, which had kept his dreams company since he’d seen it. Her face, surrounded by a halo of blonde wisps, not at all connected to the braid hanging out the window. “Zelle?”
And then she was smiling, and he was halfway up the ladder before he’d realized his feet had moved.
When he reached her window, reached her, he slowed, his eyes never leaving her face. Had she been crying? She had! Because of what he’d done? What he’d told her? Bozhe moy, he felt even guiltier! Slowly, he forced one hand to release its grip on the ladder, and lifted it to her cheek.
And—wonder of wonders!—she leaned into his touch. Let him caress her skin, as he’d been dreaming, let him feel her warmth. “Zelle.” It was just a whisper, but her strawberry lips curled up slightly. “Zelle, I’m so sorry.”
“I forgive you.” Just like that. So easily? “You came back, after all.”
“I know, and I couldn’t help it. I know that I should not have. I know that I should leave you to your family, but I had to see you, to know that you are mending.”
“Mending?” Those lips, which he’d been so close to capturing, turned down again. “Why would I mend?” Then she was straightening, pulling away from him, and he almost went with her. Instead, he recovered his grip on the ladder a moment before he might’ve toppled from it, and watched her back away from the window seat where she’d been kneeling.
Following her wasn’t a choice, but a directive, straight from his heart to his legs without his brain pointing out that perhaps climbing into a lady’s bedroom through her window was a tad improper. He swung his legs over the sill—momentarily distracted by the long blonde braid that hung out the window and had so thoroughly fooled him—and climbed over the window seat. “What did you do to your hair?”
“My hair?” Her question was low and threatening, as she moved towards him. “You want to know what I did to my hair?”
Oh, chert, there were her parents, standing near the door and looking shocked to see him. And her plump friend—Briar, wasn’t it?—by the bed. He had an audience, and he’d apparently severely irritated Zelle. On the other hand, this was exactly the welcome—or lack thereof—that he’d expected, and had he not seen the way she’d been pleased to see him a moment ago, he wouldn’t be surprised. So he held out his hands, palm up, trying to understand why she was angry now. “I didn’t mean… I only—“
“You left me, Dmitri Volkov. You walked out of my life! And then you saunter back in—“
“I climbed a ladder. It was just sitting there—“
“You sauntered back into my life, and you were expecting to ‘check’ on me? To see if I was mending?” She now stood in front on him, one long finger poking at his chest, her nose nearly at his level, her hair wild around her gorgeous green eyes. She looked like an avenging angel. “Why would I be mending, Dmitri?” Then she lifted herself on her tiptoes, until they were almost eye-to-eye. “And stop looking at me like that!”
He couldn’t help it. He smiled, and captured her finger in one of his hands. “I’m sorry, Zelle. I can’t help the way I look at you.” A deep breath, and he knew he had to confess. “You see, I love you.”
Her expression went slack, and her mouth actually dropped open. “You…what?” She tried to take a step backwards, but he wasn’t letting her finger go. “You left me.” This time, it wasn’t an accusation, but a whisper.
Helpless to understand, Dmitri met Doctor Carpenter’s angry gaze over Zelle’s shoulder. His wife, beside him, just looked pitying, but the friend—oh, what was her name?—had a big smile on her face. And that gave him hope, more than anything.
“I’m so sorry, Zelle. I had to tell you. I hope that one day, you’ll forgive me for ruining your life, and consider, somehow, maybe—“
“Ruining my life? Tell me what?”
Her genuine confusion stopped his attempt at explaining his feelings. Stopped him cold. “Tell you…” And then he really looked at her expression, her eyes. Saw hurt, but something else. “Tell you about your parents?”
“You think I’ve been miserable because of what you told me? About being a princess, and my parents not really being my parents, except that they are?”
Dmitri was lost. “…Yes? I mean, aren’t you?”
She exhaled, long and slow. And then, just as slowly, a smile bloomed onto her lips. Lips that, no matter how much pain he’d caused her, no matter how much she might hate him, he still wanted to claim. Lips that he hadn’t stopped thinking about since that evening that she’d accidentally landed on his lap and kissed him. Flustered, he caught Meredith Carpenter’s big smile, and wondered what he was missing.
“You stupid man.” Zelle twisted her hand, so that her finger was no longer captured in his, and a pit opened in his stomach at her absence, minor as it was. “You stupid, stupid man. You thought I was miserable because of some ancient history? No. No.” She stepped closer. “Your story was sad, and I’m sorry for my birth parents, but this is my home. I belong here. I love it here, and I love my parents.”
And then she stood before him once more. Proud, perfect. “I was miserable because you left. Left Everland, left me. I loved you, and you left me alone, to go back to your home.”
“You love me?” He hadn’t been sure that he’d heard her correctly, over the pounding of his pulse in his ears.
“You left me!”
“I had to. I’d ruined—“
“You did no such thing, until you got on that train and chose your moldy old dukedom over me!”
The heartbreak he saw on her face was what finally made him understand. He’d hurt
her because he hadn’t trusted her, hadn’t told her his feelings. And when she nodded, slowly, he knew that she’d seen it in his expression. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Her lips pulled into a pretty frown. “What?” she asked mulishly.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.” Hesitantly, watching for any sign that this wasn’t what she wanted, he wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry, Zelle. I shouldn’t have left. I’d never chosen home over you. I didn’t want to go home. Home is here. Home is where you are.” Was it his imagination, or had she stopped breathing? “I love you, Zelle Carpenter, Princess Wilhelmina Gertrude, and I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve told you how I felt, instead of assuming that you’d hate me for what I did.”
“I couldn’t hate you.”
Her gaze was focused entirely on his lips, and he realized that he just didn’t care that her father was standing right over there clearing his throat meaningfully. Their kiss was full of warmth and sparks, and apology, and finally—finally—a future. It lasted a million heartbeats, but was over before they could breathe, and it wasn’t enough. Looking down at the woman in his arms, Dmitri knew that forever wouldn’t be enough.
“I was coming back, moya lyubov. I knew that you might never forgive me, but I’d hoped…” He swallowed, reveling in the feel of her hands clasped behind his back, pulling her tightly against his chest. “I’d hoped that maybe, someday, you might consent to allowing me to court you again.”
“Again?” They both ignored her father’s outraged whisper, and her mother’s shushing.
“I’d hoped that maybe I could build a house here, and start that partnership I’d planned with Max, and in time, show you that I could be trusted again, and that I was worthy of you.”
Her pretty little lips—still red from his kiss—pulled down into a frown that he didn’t have time to wonder at. “Hmmm. You’ll be keeping horses, right?”
“Yes…?”
“And you would take me riding again, right? Bareback, I think? I’d like to learn to ride astride, too.” She squeezed him hopefully, and his smile bloomed.
“I would take you on any sort of adventure you wanted, moya lyubov.”
“Are you sure? I have quite a lot of adventuring in mind, you know.”
“Anything for you, Zelle.”
“In that case,” she smiled up at him, “Let me save you some time.” He raised a brow, not understanding. “Let’s skip straight to the courting right now, and I’ll say yes.”
“To me courting you?”
“No, you silly duke! To marrying you!”
Her friend squealed, and her mother sighed, and her father roared, but Dmitri ignored them all, his senses entirely devoted to the woman in his arms. This time, their kiss lasted forever.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at another Everland tale!
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Did you miss the story of how Zelle’s parents came to be her parents?
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Jack and Meri’s fairy tale:
His princess’s gentle snoring had lulled Jack into a state of near-sleep himself. He wasn’t sure if she could even put herself to sleep anymore; most nights he just held her against his chest, marveling at this tiny little miracle of Creation, until she drifted off. It wasn’t because Zelle needed it. Nah, it was for him; he needed to feel her, to listen to her, to be reminded that he was alive and free and so was she.
Tonight had been no different. After finishing yet another meal of rice and beans and salt pork, he’d had to give her a bath in the basin. It was just as well that he let her eat naked, because with his limited meal repertoire, she often ended the evening smeared in mushed beans and with rice stuck in her ear.
It was the highlight of Jack’s day.
As usual, after her bath, he’d changed her into her nightdress and put her on his lap to read to her. Lately she’d gotten real interested in his books, but he still didn’t know if it was just the sound of his voice, or if she really cared about the story. And then, as usual, her eyes had gotten droopy, and she’d curled up against his chest, one thumb in her mouth and her feet tucked between them. When her breathing told him that she’d fallen asleep, he’d put the book down, and just hold her.
With his feet up on the crate, and his head wedged against the seat-back cushion just so, he could fall asleep like this. Had fallen asleep like this, pretty often since that day three months ago that he’d arrived in this two-bit town and moved into the empty house. Probably would’ve again tonight, except for the knocking.
It took him a minute to figure out where the noise was coming from. He’d had plenty of visitors in the first month, sure, but he’d gotten rid of most of them with his poor manners. Besides, the sun had already set. As always, something out of the ordinary like this caused his heart to crawl up into his throat and his pulse to start pounding in his ears. Had Witcher found them, already? It’d only been a few months!
The knock came again, and Jack slowly sat up, making sure not to disturb Zelle. He slipped around the furniture towards the simple house’s only door. Still holding her pressed against his right shoulder, he lifted her so that she sat more comfortably, and grabbed the knife off of the table where he’d set it to dry after dinner. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
If Witcher had tracked them to Everland already, he wasn’t going to take them by surprise. Jack would do pretty much anything to keep his old boss from taking Zelle away again. Swallowing, he admitted that he could even kill to keep his princess safe.
Cautiously, he cracked the door with the hand holding the knife, being careful to angle his body to protect Zelle if necessary.
He probably shouldn’t have bothered. There was just enough light from the western sky to see who was standing on what would’ve been his doorstep if this God-forsaken place was civilized enough to have doorsteps: a woman. And not just any woman, but a young one.
He’d been to the prayer meeting every Sunday for the last ten weeks—he believed strongly that Zelle needed to be raised with religion—and thought he’d met every single female Everland had to offer… all six of them. But this one hadn’t been there; hadn’t been around the town at all, as far as he’d seen. Because he’d sure as hell remember someone who looked as good as this.
She was a pale angel in the twilight, dark hair pulled back under some kinda bonnet, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that made her somehow more approachable. Maybe he was getting fanciful, but she looked exactly like the kind of woman—good and pure and tight and clean—that he’d dreamed of during those long nights in his cell. The kind of woman that he wanted to raise Zelle to be. Noble. Kind. Pristine.
Jack blinked, wondering if there was something off about the beans. What the hell was she doing, standing at his door? The sight of a wagon with two figures in it, kicking up dust on the way back to town, or the trunk with carpetbag on top, didn’t help clear things up, either.
Well, blinking hadn’t made her disappear, so Jack figured he’d better find some manners, quick. He pulled the door open wider, keeping the knife behind it so he wouldn’t scare her. He shifted Zelle up higher, and stepped forward a
bit, to let the light from the lamp on the table spill out into the frigid night.
With a gasp, the woman took a step back, staring up at him like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe opening the door hadn’t been such a good idea. Was he all that ugly, really? From the way she was looking a bit sick, he thought that maybe he was.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She didn’t say anything, but continued to stare, her fingers twined around themselves in front of her lips. “Ma’am?” It was damn cold out here, and he was letting all the heat out. She shook her head once, although Jack couldn’t tell if it was in response to his question, or if she was trying to shake some sense into herself.
Zelle whimpered in her sleep, and nestled deeper into the crook of his neck. He would’ve patted her back to sooth her, but he was still holding the knife. The baby had drawn the mystery woman’s attention, though, and he watched her fear—or was it only surprise?—fade as her gaze swept over Zelle’s wispy pale hair. He tried again, “Ma’am?”
This time, she met his eyes, and dropped her hands from her mouth. He noticed that they were still twisted together, though, when she took a deep breath. “I’m Meri Almassy.”
She said it like it was supposed to mean something. “Yeah?” He knew he was being rude, but she still hadn’t explained anything.
When he didn’t react sufficiently—what had she been expecting?—her dark brows drew together, making a cute little “V” that he itched to smooth away. Another deep breath, and he pretended not to notice the way her small breasts strained against the light gray of her coat. Why in the world would someone who looked like her show up at his door at this hour? There was no call for it, no good reason.
“Are you the doctor?”
Ah. There was a reason, but not a good one.