Rapunzel and the Griffin Prince

by Savage, Vivienne

  What would Rapunzel say if she could see him like this? She’d tell him to draw in a deep breath through his nose and release it slowly. She’d tell him to think his actions through before he did something he’d regret.

  So he listened to her silent voice in his head and collected himself outside the study door. Only after he had quelled the shake of his hands and calmed his racing pulse did he open the door and step inside.

  Joren brought one of his boot heels down louder than necessary on the polished wooden floor. “Father.”

  The king turned away from the hearth to face him. A smile broke across his weathered face, and light danced in the man’s blue eyes. “Ah, there you are, hale and whole as I knew you would be. I knew this nonsense would end peaceably.”

  “It did.”

  “How fares my diplomat? Did you call satisfaction at a single wound as I suggested?”

  “No.”

  “No? Then by all means, tell me what happened, my boy. How did you best a giant like Lord Muir without conceding the fight or taking injury?”

  “I did concede under grounds of achieving satisfaction, but under another condition, Father. Lord Muir asked for Rapunzel’s hand in marriage, and as her brother, I gave it to him.

  For once, he had managed to shock his father into silence. The man’s smile faltered. “What? Whyever would you do such a thing? She is not capable of marrying anyone in her current state.”

  “But, Father, you said it yourself, Lord Muir did nothing to Rapunzel she would not have done on her own for Eisland.” There was so much pleasure in uttering the words, yet he managed to keep the vehemence out of his voice and speak without absolute disdain for a man he’d come to hate over the years. “Did you not say you could think of fewer ways to foster intimacy between our two kingdoms. Now surely you have every reason to celebrate.”

  King Harold’s white brows drew together, deepening the chasm of wrinkles in his craggy face. His father had aged poorly over the years, already quite an old fellow by the time he and his wife had conceived the twins. In fact, they’d been lucky his mother had bore them at all, considering she’d been on the eve of her forty-ninth birthday when they were born. He knew, because his father had regaled him often with the tale of their miraculous birth, calling them both his special gift from Astra, goddess of love, because he’d never known he could adore anyone so much until the midwife had placed them both in his arms.

  What a load of pig shit that had been. Joren fumed, thinking back on it before shaking the thoughts from his mind. It was time to commit to the plan and truly show his father he was ready to take up the throne. What better way was there than to challenge his rule?

  “You lack the authority to approve such a match between your sister and a foreigner.”

  “My most sincere apologies, Father. I thought to impress you by taking the initiative and sending a letter to Creag Morden addressed from the Crown, inviting them to visit for the upcoming ceremony. I’m sure they’ll be unable to leave their throne under such short notice, with their ship mooring in our bay, but perhaps Queen Anastasia knows methods of magical transportation we do not.”

  “I see.” The old man steepled his fingers and stared down at his lap. “Then I suppose we have no choice but to plan a wedding. To spare your sister embarrassment on her special day, we must minimize the number of guests, of course. Only close family and nobles.”

  Joren nodded. “Naturally.”

  “As we are in agreement, I charge you with arranging the details of your sister’s wedding. Three days should be enough, won’t it? Perhaps you and Lord Muir will become friends in the coming days.”

  “Perhaps. Now, what about my ascending to take the throne? Mother says you’ll discuss—”

  “Not now, dear boy. Another time. Don’t you have work of your own to do regarding Rapunzel?” With a little shooing gesture of his fingers, as if urging a kitten from his lap, King Harold dismissed his son and ended the conversation.

  * * *

  At about half past midnight, Muir squeezed into Rapunzel’s bedchamber and secured a rope around the end of her bedpost.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Tying a rope.”

  “Yes, I see as much. But why?”

  “Patience, Princess.”

  He secured the knot and gave it a testing tug. Her bed didn’t even quiver, crafted from heavy, strong wood. When Rapunzel opened her mouth again to question him, he placed a finger to her lips. Her eyes widened, the expression so comical he was tempted to laugh. No doubt she had never been silenced before in such a manner.

  “As I said, patience. Now, please step back.” Muir took the heavy coil and crossed over to the window. He peered out first and hefted the weight in his hand. “As long as you’ve grown your hair, I ought to be using it,” he muttered before dropping the other end out the window. Moments later, he hauled her brother inside.

  “Joren!”

  Rapunzel threw herself into her brother’s arms and wept against his shoulder, relief and happiness such a powerful storm within her that her body quaked.

  “So it’s true. Father really has been drugging you. I….” His gaze cut towards Muir then back to her. “I almost didn’t believe him. How long has this been going on?”

  “It began two years after James left.”

  “Gods, I’m so sorry. I… I failed you, Rapunzel.”

  “No!” She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “You’ve never let me down, Joren. Ever. You were away and had no idea.”

  “But I should have. I know James broke your heart, but I should have known you wouldn’t become some pathetic shadow of yourself over a man. I should have insisted Father bring you to Arthras. I should have rallied the council. I should have… done so many things.”

  “He brought their best healer over, or so he claimed,” she said.

  “Claimed. There’s no way Master Veritan traveled all this way without my knowledge. He hasn’t left the school in a decade.”

  Muir perked up. He had remained a silent observer to their reunion. “You can prove this?”

  “Possibly, but I’m not sure how much it will help. He could write to father and denounce the imposter, draw attention to it, but Father could merely lie and claim that he was swindled by some charlatan foisted upon him by the council. Now that he has disbanded his former board of advisors and hung most for treason, no one remains to challenge his word.”

  Muir glanced at her brother and raised his brows. “Go on, tell her.”

  “In my own time.”

  The griffin’s thin smile wavered. “Perhaps your own time should become now before I do it for you.”

  “Tell me what? What’s happening?”

  Joren sighed and raised a hand to his left temple. “I have a plan that will get you free from this tower, but it will require all of our cooperation if it’s to succeed.”

  The words reignited the spark of hope that had been dwindling with each passing day. “Truly? How?”

  “You two will be married,” he replied.

  “What?” Her voice climbed an octave. Muir winced and massaged both of his ears.

  “It was my idea,” Joren confessed.

  “What were you thinking?”

  “Shh. Keep your voice down. Most of the guardsman are imbibing on a bit of mulled wine to warm their bellies, but we don’t want to draw their attention.”

  She quieted, fixing him on the hard end of a long and silent stare instead.

  “I’m sorry, Rapunzel. It was the only way I could call an end to the duel.”

  She bit her tongue and took a moment to quell the rising anger. Sure, her brother had practically sold her off to retain his own honor, but when she looked past that complication, she was able to see to the core of the matter. When backed into a corner, he’d come up with the one viable option to solve all their problems.

  “As noble as your intentions were, Father will never allow it. He’ll never let me leave this tower.”

&nb
sp; An impish grin surfaced on Joren’s face. “Father… came around to the idea. We had a few words.”

  “But then he’d risk Lord Muir discovering the truth.”

  “As far as your father is concerned, he believes my monarchs only care about trade. That we have no interest in what he does with his people or kingdom so long as our trades are unaffected,” Muir said.

  “But James—”

  “I’ve fixed that too. Our little friend Tinker Bell was the motivating factor in the decision to rehabilitate James Hook. Tink loves him, and she’s also a grand fairy now, which makes her quite powerful and not one any of us wants to cross. I merely fed your father a few lies about Anastasia and Alistair wanting peace between all the kingdoms. They have James under their control now. As does his new wife, who wouldn’t dare allow him to step a toe out of line and risk his life again.”

  Joren stared at him. “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “I take pleasure in doing a thorough job,” the griffin replied, appearing as satisfied as a cat that had eaten the canary.

  “There’s still the matter of my claim to the throne.”

  “I’ve considered that as well. Given the fragile state of your mind, your father has agreed that you still deserve… male companionship. He wants me to provide an heir in the event Joren declines the throne.”

  “You mean my father agreed to let you use me as a broodmare.”

  Muir grimaced. “He did. After Joren had his say, your father called me to his study and I made phony promises to satisfy him for now. I have no plans of making good on my end of the bargain, but he doesn’t need to know that. He also doesn’t know what I am yet—mind you, I merely implied the bloodline could only benefit your kingdom greatly—but he became so excited he shook on it right away.”

  “Probably thinks you’re a dragon or some other dangerous creature. I could just throttle him,” Joren growled, sounding as bestial as Rapunzel imagined any shifter man would sound. “How dare he insinuate Rapunzel could… it goes beyond all decency. For years, he’s implied she’s nothing more than a doll, but he’s....”

  “Yet he’s very willing to allow a stranger in his kingdom to bed her,” Muir finished.

  A hard knot tightened in Rapunzel’s gut. What happened to the father who once held her on his lap and read her stories from the throne? “Mother won’t allow that.”

  “Mother is in her cups by lunch and doesn’t know where she is half the time, let alone what’s happening to you,” Joren spat. “She doesn’t care.”

  “Don’t I get a say in any of this?”

  “Say yes, Rapunzel,” Joren begged. “This is the only way we can get you out of this tower and away from Father’s drugs.”

  “Once we’re wed, I’ll create another excuse. Demand my wife accompany me away from the castle.”

  “Or I can make my claim on the throne now. Tell Father it’s time for him to step down as ruler. Either way, Muir’s plan provides every reason for him to listen. He believes Muir will control you as his king and queen are controlling James Hook. Don’t you see?”

  “I….” She had no other choice. The knowledge crashed over her like a cresting wave. Her gaze darted to Muir and took in the large foreigner she’d be bound to if she gave her consent to their wild plan. Who she would be bound to even if she didn’t. Now that they had aroused her father’s interest and played to his greed, he wouldn’t let the proposal die.

  “All right,” she murmured. “I’ll go along with it.”

  Joren wrapped her in his arms and hugged her tight. She couldn’t help but return it, grateful to be held by her twin again. “Excellent.”

  “We should go before we’re discovered,” Muir said. Unlike her brother, he looked as enthused about the plan as she felt.

  * * *

  Lacking time the previous night to speak with his king and queen, Muir checked in the next evening in his usual place in the northwestern gardens of the castle grounds, finding it the quietest and least likely to receive patrolling royal guards.

  The fine, hairline crack caused by Rapunzel’s temper tantrum hadn’t worsened, thankfully, and tracing his finger over the mirror perimeter activated its magic.

  “Queen Anastasia,” he murmured against the rippling surface. Magical shimmers deepened in shades of twilight, and then the reflection of the night sky above him faded, becoming the warm, lantern-lit background of Castle TalDrach’s library.

  “Good evening, Muir.” An impish smile came over her face. “How does betrothed life fare for you?”

  King Alistair chuckled from somewhere out of the crystal ball’s frame. Muir wanted to throttle him and wondered how unevenly matched they would be if it came to claws and talons. “Perhaps a little conjugal bliss will remove the stick from his hindquarters.”

  “Alistair. He can hear you.”

  “I’m aware.” The dragon settled beside his wife, grinning broadly. “Amerys already told us about the outcome of the duel, expecting you may not have the free time to check in with us.”

  “I’m glad the two of you find this entertaining,” Muir gritted out between his teeth.

  Anastasia regained her composure first, concern replacing the amusement. “Really, Muir, I am sorry about how this went. I know—we know—what something like this means for you. However, I think Joren had the right idea.”

  “So do I,” Muir relented. “It is a marriage in name only, to save the princess. I will not take advantage.”

  “We never thought you would. Now, have you discovered anything else regarding slavery? We’ll need more proof than the word of a woman locked up for the past ten years for insanity, as much as I hate to say it.”

  Muir shook his head. “I haven’t, but now that the prince is here, I plan on venturing out on my own. Give me a few days. I don’t know how to describe it, but something strange is happening, like we’re standing on the precipice of change.”

  Anastasia nodded. “Then let us do whatever we can to foster that change. May the stars guide you, Muir. Take care.”

  The mirror dimmed and left Muir in the cold, wondering how so much responsibility had fallen into his lap.

  Chapter

  Rapunzel smoothed her palms over the fitted bodice then turned from the mirror to face her maid. Her gown was the finest creation to ever enter the castle, a masterpiece of cobalt, silver, and ivory silk with a seven-yard train stitched with a thousand frost rosebuds. Another dozen of those roses had been woven throughout her hair, all three meters of it drawn into an intricate series of thick braids and fashioned into an extravagant updo. Pearl pins glittered amidst the tiny sapphire blossoms and occasional pop of pink from summer roses imported from Ridaeron and grown in the palace hot houses.

  For ten years, she’d allowed her silver hair to grow unimpeded, vowing she’d only cut it again on the day she truly attained freedom, that she’d mount the plait itself to immortalize years of captivity.

  She wasn’t yet free.

  Soon, Rapunzel thought. Soon, she’d be a free woman again, but she refused to celebrate until the day she was aboard the Twilight Witch or standing in an Eisland liberated from her father’s tyranny. When that day came, she’d take the shears to ten feet of hair herself.

  But today, she would be the radiant princess who smiled as she glided down the aisle to meet her prince.

  Over a decade had passed since the scheduled date of Rapunzel’s wedding to James Hook. That day should have been a joyous occasion, a beautiful moment spectated by all within the kingdom who wished to see her joined in marriage. Instead, she’d wept herself hoarse in the tower, refusing to see anyone, even Joren. Bitterness had taken root in her soul and left behind such a black stain she hadn’t spoken or taken her meals for days.

  But then she’d healed. The sun dawned bright one fine summer morning, and she realized James Hook hadn’t been worth so much of her sorrow. That there were other bright young men, and her life was better without the handsome pirate who sailed out of it.
>
  She’d courted a few nice nobles, found them not to her tastes, but ultimately rediscovered happiness. The sharp, bleeding wound left by Hook had scarred over, forming a tough little callous often forgotten until memories of him were stirred up by passing gossip. She still remembered his final day ashore in Eisland, his forced smiles and strained mood, the secrecy between them.

  Now she knew. Now she knew her father had chased him away, ruining James’s life and ultimately taking her freedom.

  “You are dazzling, Your Highness,” Sebille told her, the intrusion of her voice chasing away the dark thoughts laying a melancholic, crushing weight over Rapunzel’s mood.

  “You would say that if I wore a burlap sack.”

  “It would be only the most fashionable burlap sack, and my words would still be true. Still, today, you are elegance personified, a true rival to the goddess of beauty herself. Lord Muir won’t regret this.”

  Rapunzel sighed. Sebille didn’t need to know the truth, that the whole marriage was a clever ploy by her brother.

  Footsteps on the stairs announced her father’s arrival. He swept inside her room, decked out in his finest robes. “Ah, here’s the blushing bride.”

  Sebille curtsied and excused herself. Rapunzel waited until her maid was gone before lifting her chin and facing her father.

  “Will you drug me for this as well and have me carried down the aisle to my husband?”

  “I’d considered the ramifications of you lolling about at the altar before Eisen and all, but I suppose I shall trust you just this once, child. Will it be necessary to remind you of what will happen if you disappoint me and speak of our arrangement with Joren or our visiting beastman?”

  She swallowed. Sebille’s safety depended on her. “I’m aware of what you’ve threatened to do.”

  “Far from a threat, daughter mine. Her family is present, of course. They came to deliver that dazzling dress.” He flicked one of the rosebuds. “It would be a shame if they were named as traitors to the crown, consorting with the wrong sort of people, and executed on the morrow.”