Nick thought of that long braid of hair, unable to fathom how she would be able to descend with it. “No, probably not.”
“Then I would have brought her a present.”
Nick yanked on Ovet’s reins, bringing her to a stop. “A present?”
Penn stopped his horse, and looked at Nick like he had turned into a fool. “Girls love presents. You should know this.”
“Where was this brilliant logic when we were planning this last night?”
Penn shrugged. “I was distracted.”
And with that, Penn turned his horse and started back to Hohburg lands.
Chapter 13
I went through my routine–preparing my morning meal, stoking the fire and straightening the tower–but no matter what I did, I could not get out of my mind the overlapping images of this man–Nick–that haunted my sleep. In some dreams he was kind. In others he was a monster, intent on hauling me back to his cave.
I slipped into the storeroom, trying not to look at the door to the stairs, and refilled the bucket of water from the tap in the room. Thankfully I did not have to use the well pump today. The roof collected rainwater, funneling it to the tap for use. The well pump, while always full, almost broke my arm when I attempted to pump the water up, since the tower was so high.
Fortunately, there had been plenty of rain in the last month to keep the supply full. As I filled the pot over the stove–Mother insisted on water being kept warm at all times–I remembered a piece of one of my dreams of Nick in which I was smiling and laughing with him.
“These dreams make no sense,” I said as I took a few ladles of cold water for washing myself.
Shivering, I scrubbed as quickly as I could, and took the now dirty water to the window to throw out.
“Is he a wizard or a friend?” I muttered.
I hurled the water out the window then gasped, dropping the empty bucket on the floor.
There, sticking out of my windowsill, was an arrow.
Scrambling for my dagger, I did not take my eyes off the thin rope that hung off the end of the arrow. I crept to the arrow and the rope. As I got closer I realized it remained fairly still. I knew from experience that would not be so if someone was climbing it.
It did not as much as twitch.
I squeezed the dagger handle and stepped to the side of the window. My heart hammered in my chest.
“Nick?” I whispered and, holding the dagger like Mother had shown me, grabbed the rope in one hand. It was far too light to be holding someone. I feared another arrow would come my way if I showed myself, so I knelt on the floor and started pulling the string–for upon close inspection, it was most certainly not any kind of rope–through the window.
It glided in easily at first, but then became stuck. With a jerk, it popped inside. There was a bundle tied to the end of the string. The small piece of linen, secured by the string, rattled in my hands and I could feel several items inside jangling together. With trembling fingers, I picked at the knot and, eventually–despite the thick knot and my clumsy fingers–managed to open the bundle.
Three lovely green stones tumbled out, hitting the floor with a clatter. I held one up and a faint amount of sunlight passed through it, just enough to illuminate the inside of the stone, to show the gold and green tones within. All three were small enough to fit in my palm and I rolled them back and forth in my hand, marveling at how they warmed.
“How beautiful,” I whispered, stroking the stones.
One slipped out of my hand onto the cloth they had been wrapped in. I reached down to pick it up and realized something else was inside. A piece of parchment, rolled up and sealed with a tiny drop of wax. I held the stones in one hand and broke the seal of the letter. Opening it, I found a note written with strong dark slashes.
Rapunzel,
Near my castle, there is a dark river that is cool even on the hottest days and on its banks I often find stones that have washed up from high in the mountains.
This morning I found these. Green as the new spring leaves. Green as your eyes.
I knew at once they were meant for you.
One stone is for you, for your beautiful green eyes.
One is for me, for being so fortunate to be gazed upon by those green eyes.
And the third is for the hope that I may come again, and you will lower your hair for me.
Yours,
Nick.
My hand trembled, and I stared at the words, reading them over and over. He wanted to come back. I glanced at the window. If he came, I would have to allow him to come up.
I would have to lower my hair.
I did not know if I could.
Chapter 14
“What are you doing?” a woman asked.
Nick spun around, careful not to startle Ovet, and let out a sigh. He had arrived home from his morning ride to check on tenants a good hour ago and, while he should have had the horse groomed by now, he continued brushing Ovet down. The horse seemed to like the attention.
Though lingering in the stables had more to do with his early morning activities than anything.
He glared at his little sister. “Kiki, do you not have houseguests who need your attention?”
“I do, but they are all still sleeping,” she replied, leaning on the adjoining stall. “You know I could never sleep very late.”
He smoothed the body brush over Ovet’s flank. “One of your greatest methods for learning the latest gossip. Even the maids complain about your early hours.”
She waved a hand in the air. “Only Alda does, because she does not like getting up early. Part of the reason I have quit having her help me get dressed.”
Nick sighed. “Is there something I can do for you, little girl?”
“I just wondered why you headed out so early this morning. The guard house said you left before the morning guard change.”
“And?”
“Bryan’s horse is still gone, too.” She glanced around the stables. “It has been over a week–”
He raised his eyebrow at his sister. “Bryan has been gone for six days.” Nick brushed the soft hair on Ovet’s neck, careful to mind her face. He patted the animal as he did and the horse shook her head at him, sniffing at his pocket. “Yes, there is a snack in there for you. When I am done,” he whispered. “Then you get your prize.”
The horse huffed indignantly.
“I think you love that horse more than you love your own sister,” Kiki muttered, arms crossed.
“The horse knows when to be quiet,” Nick replied. “And Ovet is not nosy. Unlike some sisters I know.”
She waggled her finger at him. “I know you, Nicolas. You are up to something.” She narrowed her eyes at him in a fair imitation of their mother. “I am bound and determined to find out what it is.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Nothing you need fret about, dear sister. Now, run along and play or I will find something for you to do in here.”
She shook her head. “I can brush down a horse better than you can.”
He held out his brush. “Prove it.”
She ran her hand down the post of the stall before looking at him again. “You boys are up to something. Where is Bryan, anyway?”
“Why do you care?”
She shrugged. “I like to know where my enemies are. It does not look well when my guests are afraid another volley of arrows will fly into the room in which we are taking our tea.”
He snorted. “It was one arrow.”
“Regardless,” she said, taking a step closer. “Where did he go?”
Nick could not help being intrigued by his sister’s curiosity. “Which one of your little friends has a crush on Bryan?”
“None of them, now. Not after he shot arrows at us.” Female voices–giggles, more precisely–echoed in the courtyard and Kiki turned and glanced out the main entrance of the stables. “Drat,” she muttered. “You did not see me.” She slid past Ovet’s stall and headed for the opposite end.
Nick shook
his head and, if he were anywhere but in the stables, he would have yelled his sister’s name just to draw the attention of her houseguests. Fortunately for her, Ovet and the other horses saved her this time.
He continued his task, working in careful, practiced motions over Ovet’s body. And even though he could brush down the horse with his eyes closed if needed, he had to do something. He had been twitchy since he returned this morning.
Beyond being quite proud of the fact that he had hit Rapunzel’s windowsill on his first shot in the pre-dawn hours, he was also anxious about the present he had left her.
He already had two more in mind for her, and it took all his restraint to keep from returning to the tower to give those gifts. If he had learned one thing from Penn, it was to take things slowly, to drag it out when enticing a lady, for it made the anticipation even more intense. Though if Penn knew he was taking presents to Rapunzel to win her trust, he would never let him forget it.
Still, it seemed the only way. Nick did not want to scare her any more than he already had, yet he had to do something to convince her he did not mean her harm. His name, his noble rank, or even his title as a Charming Noble would do nothing to ingratiate him to her.
He had to get her out of the tower.
Nick had not heard from Bryan. He considered that a good thing, for Bryan would send word if he were returning. By now, he would have reached the border of Gruenewald province. If, of course, Rapunzel’s mother had not changed direction.
Penn was right. The woman could have been heading anywhere.
Which is what bothered Nick the most about the gifts. While they were a brilliant idea, they took time.
And he did not know how much time he had.
He would not leave her in that tower where she could be brutalized. That was not going to happen.
Not as long as he lived.
Chapter 15
I found no more arrows in my windowsill and had not for days.
Comparing Nick to what I knew of the bad men Mother had told me about, to the evil wizards and horrible warriors, he seemed none of those things.
Yet, also, all of those things.
His large build could have been that of a warrior. The angles of his face, which had been etched into my memory, fit the description of the handsomely disguised wizard, yet he cast no spells.
Or perhaps he did. Perhaps that was why I did not hurt him when he climbed into my tower. Perhaps that is why I picked up the stones he had brought me at least once a day, and gazed at them.
I told myself it was because I had never seen their like. I had never walked along a river, to see the stones there. Were they all smooth like these? Did they all shine when held to the light?
My curiosity was piqued, that was all.
It had nothing to do with Nick.
My heart knew better. It had everything to do with Nick. I would not even have them if he had not brought them here.
Reaching over to touch my pillow, I thought, again and again, about the note inside. My finger danced close to the rip I had tucked the note into. The words in it were simple enough, the meaning perfectly clear.
He would come back.
Though I would have to choose to let him up.
Yet all Mother’s stories about wizards and warriors crowded my head, to the point where I did not know what to do.
I did not know if I wanted to see Nick again.
Part of me believed his words, his restraint, his gifts, his smile. Part of me believed Mother, who had always been right.
I glanced at a beam of sunshine coming in my window, brightening a patch of the stone floor. I took in the lines of it, the details, when I remembered something.
She had not seen the lightning bugs. She had said they were not there.
But they were.
She had been wrong…
The very idea made me shudder. If she could be wrong about the lightning bugs, what else could she be wrong about?
I forced myself to turn back to my new dress. Yet with every snip and stitch sewn, the green turned to blue and I saw his riding cloak. Saw his eyes. It took everything I had to focus and, even then, I would shift and see the stones he had given me, and a tear would creep into my eye. Before I realized it, I was crying, both for his kindness and my anxiety over his return.
Oh, what a fool I was.
How could I believe a word he said? He was an outsider, a male, one of the reasons I was kept here, tucked away for my own safety. I could not be trusted around people, I was too foolish.
Yet here I was, for the third day in a row, staring out my window as the daylight turned to twilight, for once not seeing any of the birds, trees or shrubs outside, my thoughts lost, wondering, hoping, praying for Nick to return. As terrified as I was to see him again, I wanted to.
A few of the pieces for the yellow blouse were sewn together and, while the fabric did not look like much yet, I could see its potential. I could almost imagine myself wearing the yellow and green ensemble. The hours I spent working on it seemed to take an age to slip by. Even the shadows crawled across the floor when the clouds in the sky did not block the sunlight completely, leaving me with very little idea of what time of day it was at all.
Tonight, the orange glow filling my room pressed home my disappointment. Yet another day had passed and Nick had not come.
A slow tune came to mind and I heard myself humming the morose melody, the sound soothing to my ears.
Words began to form and I let them flow around me, lift out of my chest, and I vented the story out of my heart and into the night. Even the trees and the breeze danced to the song. The birds of night, waking, added their own accompaniment, replacing the soft chirping of lively day birds.
I sang. Louder and louder to the orange sky.
“So not to dance, our chance gone, one fine eve’s twilight…”
“Rapunzel. Let down your hair.”
I let out a yelp, my heart hammering as I looked into the dusky night, making myself focus on the garden, awash in the orange light of sunset. There, standing below, was Nick, his blue cape like a patch of black in the light.
I froze, unsure for a moment what to do, merely staring down at him, hoping he was real, not some figment of my imagination.
“Rapunzel?” Nick called.
“Nick?”
He smiled at me. “Do you wish me to come up?”
“I…” I knew not what to say.
He did not attempt to climb on his own, merely stared back at me.
“I have something for you,” he said, holding up a small parcel.
I did not think, throwing my braids out the window. They slid over the windowsill, and I barely got my arm in place to brace myself before they stopped.
“Are you ready?” he called.
“Yes.”
In a moment, I felt him begin his climb. I gripped the window’s edge, but it was hardly necessary, because he climbed so much faster and caused far less pain than Mother. How he did it, I was not sure, but from what I could tell, he seemed to use the wall to help him. And he moved so fast, his arms working in a solid rhythm as he ascended.
With the wind blowing a little more forcefully as the sun set, I slipped to the side to give him entrance.
He straddled the window and was about to pull his other leg in when a gust of wind burst through, flipping his cape around. He started to lose his footing.
On instinct, I put one hand on his arm, the other steadying him by clutching his shirt. His body, so warm and solid, was still vulnerable. He needed my help, and it seemed a bizarre combination.
For the briefest moment, he was merely a breath away from me, and I met his wide, bright gaze. I felt his stare all the way to my toes and my cheeks grew hot, making me look away.
He shook his head, and took a few deep breaths as he regained his footing. I stepped to the side, pulling a little of my hair back into the tower, just enough so I did not have to stand so close to him.
“Thank you, Rapunzel
. The wind is sneaky tonight,” he said, a smile on his face as he ran his hands through his inky black hair.
I felt a strange shiver on my back, as if the way he watched me was a physical touch. I could not help the fleeting thought that he might very well be some kind of wizard.
I moved away from him. “I am pleased you are not hurt.”
“That is quite a perilous window,” he said, smiling. “If you had not been there, I might have not righted myself.” He stayed close to the window, though his attention darted all around the room.
“I hope I did not startle you.” He gestured to the stones on the table across the room. “An arrow seemed the only way to get the present to you.”
My blush had only slightly receded, but it came back full force when he mentioned his gift. “It did, but it was a most pleasant surprise. They are very beautiful. I have never seen anything like them.”
“I am glad. I thought of you immediately when I saw them.”
“You should not have gone to such trouble,” I replied and sat on the corner of my bed, wrapping my arm around the foot post. Still unsure of the purpose of his attention, I wanted to keep my distance.
My dagger remained under my pillow, close enough to grab if I needed it. Knowing the blade rested there gave me comfort.
“It was no trouble.” He pushed his cape off his shoulders and I could not help staring at the size of him. Even the ceilings, which seemed so high to me, were barely above his head. His broad shoulders and thick legs looked oversized. His shoulders, wider than the window opening itself.
I marveled that he had been able to enter the tower at all.
I slid my hands into the twists of the braids, the rhythmic pattern of them calming me. “Why are you here?” I asked, the words tumbling out before I realized what I had said.
“Do you not want me here?” he asked, meeting my stare with his own, his face solid and stiff.
I stroked the braids. “I do not understand your reason for being here.” Which was true. I wanted to understand. Mother always said a fool like me tried to find logic in everything, but could not help failing. I hated that part of myself, yet I could not help my curiosity.
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