Einar took a step forward, looking as if he meant to comfort her. At this point, Papa had managed to slip inside the room. But he was still blocking Thomas who had finally come out of his faint.
When Papa saw the midwife, his eyes widened and he asked hoarsely, “The curse?”
Romy nodded and Frieda’s wails became deafening. Each sob more heart wrenching than the last.
“What is going on?” Thomas exclaimed, forcing his way further inside. “Where is my son?”
Romy held the baby awkwardly with her good arm. The other keeping the baby’s neck supported. As the prince took a step forward, Romy moved back. A look of fear and determination crossing her face.
“How dare you!” Thomas raged.
In a split-second Einar had moved in front of Romy and the baby.
Frieda sat up on the bed. Reaching her hand out, she screamed, “No! Don’t hurt her!”
Romy looked at Papa and nodded. It was time to start the plan.
Papa took out a small pinch of white power that was odorless and tasteless. With a resigned sigh, Papa blew the substance into the prince’s face.
“I will take it from here,” Frieda said thickly. “But first, may I see my daughter?”
“I don’t understand,” Einar said uncertain of what was going on.
“Einar, there is no time to explain. Let me through.” Romy pushed past him with the bundle in her arms. She passed Papa, who was tucking away the small pouch. Romy was thankful to see that Thomas was now in a calm, dream like state.
Romy carefully sat at the edge of Frieda’s bed and began to unveil the baby. A newborn’s eyes were most often blue, and yet when Romy pulled the blanket back for Frieda to see, they both saw the bright green eyes staring back at them.
“She’s so beautiful,” Frieda said through choked tears. “I am going to miss her so much.”
Romy couldn’t hold back the emotion as she replied, “She looks just like you. Listen to me, I promised you, Frieda. I promise that you would hold her in your arms one day.”
“What’s going on?” Einar’s voice was a mix of frustration and confusion.
“You have to leave,” Frieda pleaded with Romy. “Take her somewhere safe. Somewhere that we can never find her. Thomas’ reach is far and wide, you will have to be clever.”
“Take her?” Einar echoed incredulously.
“I will find a way, Frieda,” Romy said again. She wanted Frieda to know, to believe that she wouldn’t rest until she found a way to bring the baby home. “We will come back when the curse is broken.”
“What curse?” Einar demanded hotly.
Papa shook his head sadly. “Not now, boy. If you care about my daughter at all, you will keep your mouth shut about what you have just seen and heard.”
“Papa,” Romy said from the doorway, “I can hear them coming!”
Papa nodded, pulling out the small bag once again.
Einar took a step back. “Whatever that is, you are not giving it to me.”
Papa looked at Romy who said, “We have to take the baby right now Einar. If we don’t there will be may people who will die. You can stay with the true memories of what really happened-”
“Or you will spell me with… magic?” Einar asked incredulously.
“I will do anything to protect Frieda and this baby,” Romy responded fiercely.
Einar ran a hand through his hair. Romy could tell that he was horrified by what was happening. She could only be thankful that he wasn’t stopping Papa from blowing the powder on the servants in the antechamber.
Einar stalked to the doorway. It was there his pallor turned gray. “Romy, what is going on? Your Papa just spelled the king. We are going to hang for this!”
“Go!” Frieda screamed from the bed. “Don’t let anyone touch my baby!”
Romy shook her head. “I have to go. I will miss you.”
It was in that moment that Romy saw that Einar had made a decision. She wasn’t going to spell him with Devil’s Breath. Einar could cause them a lot of trouble if he wanted to. Romy prayed in her heart that he would see her intentions were pure.
It was at this moment that she knew she loved him. Papa had often said that love makes one foolish. But perhaps, Romy reasoned, it may be the key to making everything clear. With one final look at Einar she turned and fled with the baby in her arms.
Einar went to follow her when Frieda called him back. Frustration laced his features as he obeyed her command.
“Yes, your highness?”
Frieda’s lovely face was drawn, and tear stained. She hardly resembled the perfect princess that everyone knew and loved. “Einar, please don’t stand in their way. I know you don’t understand.”
“I know Romy’s heart. She wouldn’t do anything to betray you.”
Frieda blew out a breath of relief. “I know Romy will find a way. She always does.”
Einar turned and looked at the door. Anxiety swept through him. “I must go, but I swear that I will keep your daughter safe. I will keep them all safe.”
“Rapunzel,” Frieda called out as he was attempting to leave.
“I beg your pardon?” Einar replied, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.
“Her name,” Frieda answered, suddenly looking very small and terribly tired. “Tell Romy, her name is Rapunzel.”
With a nod, Einar swept from the royal bedchamber in a dead run.
As Romy raced through the corridors and finally made it to the servant’s exit. She saw that Papa was there waiting for her.
“Hurry Romy! The carriage is waiting.”
Romy had a stitch in her side and her hip was aching something fierce. But that didn’t stop her. She followed papa out the door and awkwardly boarded the carriage with the baby in her arms.
Romy was just about to shut the carriage door when she saw Einar race out of the palace.
“Stop!”
Not understanding, Romy feared he was trying to halt them. She reached for the door, trying to yank it closed.
However, Einar was stronger and caught the door before it could latch.
“No,” Einar panted. “Wait.”
“What are you doing?” Romy gasped as Einar shoved the carriage door open wide and climbed inside.
Papa looked stunned for a moment, but then a broad smile spread across his face.
“Where you go, I go,” Einar said gruffly.
Romy blinked and opened her mouth to argue, but Einar’s glare indicating that he meant business.
Papa snapped to action. “Close the door, boy.”
With a sharp rap of his cane to the roof of the nondescript coach, the horses were sprung, and they rode out of sight.
End of Part One.
Glacier by Anne Stryker
Copyright ©️ 2019 Anne Stryker
All Rights Reserved. This book is a work of fiction. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the proper written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at [email protected]
Edited by Boriana Spassov
Created with Vellum
Chapter 1
The World Inside
So many years. So much waiting. But soon it would all come to a close. The days of Dale were at an end. The time of Mab was upon us. What kind of world would she make…
I took a deep breath, gripping my throne with my scarred hands to stop their incessant shaking. My nails dug into the witchwood, and seeping cries hissed from the enchanted, living bark.
All around me, the night court spun, dancing in the caverns that peppered the ravine separating the forest from the mountains. A crack in the very foundation of the earth was where we lived, the winter fae, the monsters, the nightmares.
Willowy ents traced paths across the obsidian tile. Sylphs whistled on the breeze, skimming through fairy lights that hovered near the ceiling. Sparks of magic zipped through the air, and I breathed it all in.
Would she like it?
But of course she would, for however long it lasted. I glanced at my hands and cut the hissing cries of my throne short. When I stood, a moment of stillness washed in and out of the room, but nothing stopped.
“Lord Rumpelstiltskin.” Mythalzen trotted to my side, his hooves tapping a beat against the floor as he followed me out of the throne chamber and into the twisting halls. “What is it, my lord?”
I waved a hand. “Nothing. You can enjoy the festivities. Such a Hallowed Eve only comes once every few years when the moon is bright and the stars are right.”
His deer ears flicked, and he blinked at me from above his brown nose. “Only once every near century, my lord. Why would you miss it?”
My lips parted in a grin. “Because, far more lovely things are transpiring this night. I might be needed.”
“Ah, of course,” he stated flatly, shifting his gaze off me. “The girl.”
“The queen,” I corrected.
“She is young yet…and so…”
Human. He didn’t have to say it; it was wise that he didn’t. Having lost her those seventeen years ago still struck a nerve deep inside me. She was meant to be mine then. She was meant to grow up with me, in a magic that called to the magic that had lived and breathed and evolved within her. Instead, they had squelched her spark. Kept her trapped in iron confines. Bred her with a mind of war.
It broke my heart, sickened my stomach, and made me furious. We had so short a time together as it was, and now it would be filled with pain.
“She’s no younger than you,” I mumbled at last.
Mythalzen shuddered at the bitter chill billowing off me, but he dutifully continued to follow. “Why does she need you today?”
“She always needs me on these days.” Recently, it was rare a day came when she didn’t need me, if even for a moment, and in some of the places she called me, I could only stand a moment. I hooked around a sharp corner and continued my stride. The halls lay ahead of me, starkly empty and dark. Everyone in the palace tunnels were in the throne chamber now, celebrating the alignment of Winter’s Howl, Celestine, and the full moon. Once every near century, those stars—called lovers by the fae—burned azure and hallowed an eve with sidhe magic.
I could smell it in the air. It was a warm scent with a cold memory. Something of spice—cinnamon, nutmeg—and something of love.
At last reaching my personal chambers, I slipped within. Mythalzen trotted along behind me, a sigh filtering out of his chest. He pursed his lips and stared at me in a way not even the strongest fae dared.
Thin as he was and as convoluted as he appeared—half satyr, half deer—his years didn’t show on his face or stature. He looked little older than a teenager, and compared to most fae, he may as well have been.
“What are you planning?” His dry tone made me roll my eyes.
I lifted what I had been working on this entire year off the dresser. Thick magic thrummed in the mounted globe, displaying a miniature of Dale. Snow fell inside, dusting the homes and streets, and when you shook it…well, I’d refrained from causing tiny voices to scream. When you shook it, the seasons changed. Dale had never had the luxury of seasons, but Mabilia deserved all the luxuries in the world. “When do I ever plan?” I asked.
“When don’t you plan?” he scoffed. “And on days like today? You plan useless frivolity,” Mythalzen droned, grumbling, “even though there’s plenty of that here, at the parties, that you never stick around for.”
“Frivolity is expected on one’s eviction day.”
“It’s a birthday, Lord Rumpelstiltskin.” His expression waned, but a sliver of humor lit in his eyes, and he dropped his guise of respect completely, prancing to my side. “What is it?” He reached for my project, like he had any right to.
I lifted it out of his grasp. “A season globe. Hooves off.”
“What?” He grinned. “Only for your hands and hers, my lord?”
“Quite right.”
“If the rest of the court of big bad wolves only knew how much of a romantic you were.” Folding his arms, he flashed me a smirk, then shivered in response to mine. Curtly, he mumbled, “Oh, right. You’d have them burned alive…”
“Perhaps.” Still smiling, I searched my armoire for my ring and my gloves. As I slipped the iron ring onto my finger, I breathed a sigh of relief. My shaking hands paused, if for a short time.
“Why continue to hide it?” Mythalzen leaned against the armoire, sadness trickling in and out of his eyes. “If anything is going to go to plan, she has to find out. The sooner the better. And today is the day, isn’t it?”
“No.” I slipped one glove on, then the other. “Things don’t need to start today. Tomorrow, perhaps.”
Mythalzen snorted, but I knew I was serious. Tomorrow perhaps was the day things fell apart. I could only hope instead they wouldn’t, but something as frail as hope cracked and broke before it was of any use, and I knew better than to wish for things that could not be.
Setting my crown down, I sighed. Already, the familiar pang lit in my chest, hollowing out a fraction of my heart. “I’ll be leaving now.”
Concern rippled, and his folded arms tightened. “Be careful, my lord.”
I didn’t reply as I disappeared, reappearing in the thick of Dale’s palace yard. Iron immediately burned my nose, scalding down my throat with every inhale and swallow. It spun in my gut, sawing the lining of my stomach away like gnawing piskies had gotten a hold of me.
I breathed my way through it, adjusting as well as I could. Every day, it was worse. Every day, it was worth it. My muscles daring to spasm, I meandered through the gardens packed fat with crops and waited.
Guards stared blankly ahead beside the doors leading into the ballroom. No older than fifteen, they had been shuffled into training, and their slack faces radiated an emptiness that loomed in their stares.
Oblivious as they could be, an angel slipped between them out of the shining ball. Her bright blue eyes peered at each one, and she stuck out her tongue, before the chime of her laughter tried to bring me to my knees. Her eyes found me, and my breath held.
They had tried their best to ruin her tonight. They had done everything they possibly could. They had twisted and pulled and pinned each and every perfect, straight strand of raven dark hair into some contraption atop her head. They had dabbed her flawless, pale skin with colors so similar to blood, her cheeks appeared splotched with the substance. They had even dressed her in a silver gown thread through with iron. It clanged when she walked, like she wore armor, but it billowed around her slender legs just above her knees, and they had left those alone, content to trap only her feet in heels. She promptly discarded those odd little shoes among the turnips and carrots.
They had tried their best to ruin her; they had failed.
“My faerie,” she murmured, a coy smile playing upon her lips, “is this the day you kill me?”
My chest pinched. “Do you wish to die, Princess?”
“Dreadfully.” Spinning round, she threw her arms wide, so used to glamouring herself she could shout. “Ah! To be free of you!” The spark in her eye was almost a reflection of Winter’s Howl, and it steeled. “Just watch how I’ll run.”
If only I could wrap my arms around her and steal her away from all of this. With the iron congealed in the air and against her skin, it would be difficult. With my name claimed, removing power over her, it was impossible. The only way we left was if she decided to entirely on her own, or if a new contract allowed. Then I would lead her through the chasm of mines they wasted their lives in, stealing from the earth, and out into a frigid freedom she would adore.
One by one the wind would snatch away the mess in her hair, the snow would melt the paint off her face, and I would give her a mantle so ligh
t, it would drift on the air itself, bearing her into the sky.
Oh, darling. You wouldn’t have to run. You would fly.
A tiny smile lifted my lips at the brief thought of her soaring through the air.
“Okay,” she huffed. “I can withstand this no longer. Take me absolutely away.”
Oh, what those words could mean. It was a shame and a pity their intentions were as innocent as her father’s had been years before. I leaned to peer around her at the waltzing forms within the ballroom and curved a brow. “Are you certain? It looks quite lively in there.” My lungs filled, searching past the sting of metal. “I smell food. Are you sure you want to leave the food?”
She didn’t even look back and consider it. “You can’t call that food. Do you know what they do?” She moved close, iron wafting off her, but I met her where she was and waited for the secret she would share. “They cut the meat into teeny tiny little bits and put it on a thin, thin cracker. Then the itsiest-bitsiest dab of cheese goes on top. And on that?” She pulled back, folding her arms and rolling her eyes. “Well, I’m certain they just put a scrap of grass there and call it a day.”
The feasts I could show her.
I scrunched my nose, baring my teeth. “Sounds horrible.”
“It is. Mother says I shouldn’t be picky.” She chewed her lip. “We have so much, and it’s special.” Her playful excitement drifted away into a calmness of one far older. Her spirit, linked to mine as it was, carried the same weight of my ages. And in the moment, that showed. “I just can’t be like them. I’m not happy in their little cage. I want a sky I can’t touch and the freedom to never stop trying to. But I don’t want it through war.” Her gaze pinned wistfully on the stars that gleamed through the iron glass, and she breathed softly. Without looking away, she reached for my gloved hand and closed her fingers around mine. “Take me away from at least one wall tonight.”
Resisting the urge to bring her fingers to my lips, touching skin to skin, I squeezed her hand and smirked. “But, my princess, aren’t you afraid the fae will come for you?”
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 26