Rapunzel and the Griffin Prince

by Savage, Vivienne

  The women who had taken over the kitchens reiterated that argument. They forced her to the dining table where many of the rebels were enjoying breakfast, and they weren’t happy until she’d accepted a few slices of toast and jam.

  “Are you certain there’s nothing I can do to help you?” Rapunzel asked Adeline, the rosy-cheeked matron who came to deliver her tea. The woman was pushing a cart loaded with food.

  “Well,” the cook considered. “Would it trouble you to take this cart out to Prince Muir’s kin? They’ve been patient, those two, requested to be fed last after everyone else.”

  “Nothing would trouble me, Adeline.”

  Rapunzel set her cup on the cart and pushed it outside onto the courtyard. Aside from a few rebels holding the perimeter, it appeared deserted.

  “Strange…. Where could they have gone?” she muttered.

  “Are you looking for us, Princess?”

  Rapunzel jerked her gaze up to the manor’s roof and saw both roosting on the edge, poised like feathered gargoyles overlooking the estate’s grounds.

  “I’m told there are two hungry Oclanders here waiting to breakfast.”

  Both flew down to her, almost identical in plumage and fur coloring with dark hind ends and glossy ebon feathers. “Ah! At last,” the one with the deeper voice said. “Was beginning to regret this selfless gesture thing.”

  “You weren’t,” said the other, transforming to his human shape. He was young and dark-haired, bright blue eyes in his handsome face. “Before you arrived, he was trying to coax me into fishing with him off the coast for our meal.”

  The other transformed. Up close, she thought they could be brothers, the resemblance most apparent in their sky-hued eyes and identical smiles. The one with the deeper voice had a rust-tinted beard, likely the elder brother.

  Rapunzel raised a lid to reveal the generous array of sliced ham served alongside buttered scones and a dozen sunny-side up eggs with crisp edges and a dash of herbs over their golden centers. “No need now. There’s quite a bit of coffee too.”

  “Grand. Now that we’ve been receiving the stuff from Samahara, I can’t get enough of it,” the younger said. He poured two mugs for both of them.

  “Faolan, right?”

  “Aye, Princess.”

  “And you’re Sòlas,” she said to the other Oclander.

  “Aye. You’re awake rather early, Princess. You should be resting,” Sòlas said.

  “So should the both of you.”

  “We don’t sleep much, to be truthful. Besides, I enjoy the quiet.” Faolan smiled and unscrewed the cap of a silver flask before pouring a generous amount into his coffee. He did the same for Sòlas then extended it toward her in offering. She nearly refused, thought better of it, and extended the mug toward him for a splash of whiskey.

  She hadn’t spoken much with the two griffins beyond attack plans. They tended to keep to themselves, though each had a jovial nature Muir seemed to lack.

  “Well, don’t let me keep you then. Enjoy your meal.”

  “Join us, please. We’d be honored to have Muir’s mate sit with us awhile.”

  Muir’s mate. The two words sent her heart fluttering. “This must be hard for you two, being so far from home and fighting a battle that isn’t your own,” she said.

  “Not so much,” Sòlas disagreed. “We may not be fighting for our home, but we fight for our family. Muir is our leader, our brother, and so his fight is our fight. He fights for you, and so do we.”

  She dropped her gaze to the murky tea in her cup. “It’s all right, you don’t have to try to make me feel better. I know I’ll never be to Muir what Fiona was. And I know that I’m not his mate.”

  Faolan sighed. “So he’s told you then. About time he fessed up.”

  “Do you two have this… soul bond?

  “Sòlas does.”

  “I’d have to, for you to be around, now wouldn’t I?” The older griffin chuckled and flicked a crumb at Faolan, who snapped it up in his mouth midair.

  Interest perked, Rapunzel lifted a brow and studied the two men more closely. “You’re father and son? I had no idea. You hardly look old enough to have a son his age.”

  Sòlas chuckled. “Muir likely neglected to mention our kind live long lives and heal fast. It’s rare to find a sick and ailing shifter.”

  “Is it difficult to be away from your wife?”

  “At times, but I know her love for me and our son. She is always with me wherever I go.”

  “And you, Faolan?”

  “No, I haven’t found a mate of my own yet. That’s the reason Muir and I came on this little expedition. Sòlas had never planned to leave the ship.”

  “And now you’re here fighting.”

  “None of that now.” Sòlas tipped her chin up. “I made my choice. I could be on the ship with Captain Vandry if I wanted, but I chose to be here. Just as Muir chose to be here.”

  “He….” Her voice wavered, and she swallowed back the thickness in her throat. “He doesn’t want to be.”

  “If that were the case, he wouldn’t have taken you as his wife, lass. It’s good to see him take a new mate. He deserves happiness after all these years of self-inflicted solitude.”

  “But he said there would never be anyone else for him. Ever. He only married me because Joren manipulated him into it.”

  “He did, did he?” Sòlas grumbled something in Oclander before catching himself and clearing his throat. “Muir is long past the usual time of mourning. It is true that losing a bondmate is a pain none of us ever wishes to bear, but if it were the end of us, our kind would have died out long ago. Between war and curses, we’ve lost many of our people.”

  “Then it’s just me he doesn’t want,” she whispered.

  Sòlas shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that. You didn’t see the way he watched you walk down the aisle to him. The lad was smitten.” He eyed the scones and tasted one. His wary expression became open delight before he soaked up some of the runny yolk from his plate. He and his son ate like ravenous beasts, stuffing their faces from that point on without any qualms about speaking with their mouths full.

  Rapunzel bit her lower lip. “What should I do? Do I let him go?”

  “No,” Faolan said. “Give him time. He may be a good man, but he’s an idiot when it comes to affairs of the heart.”

  “Time,” she repeated.

  Sòlas nodded. “A bit of time. If you’re the one for him, Princess, he may come to you. Until then, try not to take offense. Our alpha means well, but he’s a dunderhead when it comes to expressing his heart, and has been since he was a wee lad no higher than my knee.”

  A big grin spread across Faolan’s face. “Trust me, lass, and believe it when we say, when the time comes, he’ll be the one to come to you.”

  * * *

  Silence reigned in the main hall when Muir roused himself from bed and made himself go downstairs. Judging from the sun’s position in the sky, it had to be past noon, a testament to how long he’d overslept past his usual waking hour. For a while, he’d just laid there amidst the blankets, marveling over the fact that he’d drowsed in a bed for so long.

  He usually never slept on a mattress, preferring to nest in his griffin form.

  Following his nose led him to the kitchens, where the cooks and servants bustled about preparing food for the many mouths living in the estate and those beyond.

  “Prince Muir, good day to you,” Adeline greeted with a smile. “Give me a moment and I’ll have you set up.”

  “That isn’t necessary,” he told the cook.

  “Nonsense.” She moved to a counter with a covered dish and busied herself with assembling his meal. She piled so much food on he doubted even he would be able to finish it.

  He tasted the cheese soup then dipped his bread into it. The stuffed prawns were as large as his palms, bigger than anything he and his kin fished from the seas off Cairn Ocland’s coast. They melted like butter in his mouth. The effervescent wine sh
e poured into his glass—which he wanted to loathe on principle—paired for a sweet complement more delicious than the berry mead brewed by his own clansmen.

  Before he knew it, the plate was empty, he’d drained two glasses, and he was sopping up the remnants of soup with a scrap of bread.

  Adeline beamed. “Brings my heart joy to feed such a kind prince. More?”

  Modesty be damned. He hadn’t realized the depth of his appetite until the last crumb was gone. “Aye. More please.”

  The old woman practically cackled as she heaped another serving of soup into his bowl, set more shrimp on the plate, and filled his glass a third time with the fizzing wine. These disappeared too.

  “That was fantastic, Adeline. Thank you. Do you know where I can find the other griffins or Prin—my wife?”

  “I believe your kinsmen are at the gates. The princess took food into the city.”

  “Alone?” His voice raised in alarm.

  “Er, no. Captain Milo was with her.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Ah. All right then.”

  “Will you be needing anything else, or will this be enough, Your Highness?”

  Muir twitched. No matter how many times he corrected the staff, the citizens, or the rebels, the damned title snuck into every conversation. This time, he dragged in a deep breath and smiled. “Nothing more for me. Thank you.”

  Adeline dipped into a curtsy and returned to her kitchen.

  Grumpy, Muir walked outside to seek Faolan and Sòlas. They weren’t hard to find and stood out among the many men in the yard, both griffins at the gate, Sòlas in his feathered body, his son standing with his arms crossed while staring downhill at the city below.

  “Ah,” Faolan said with a sly smile on his face, “at long last, His Royal Highness awakens to visit with his peasants. To what do we owe this momentous occasion, Prince Muir? Do you actually intend to work alongside the rest of us?”

  Muir grunted. “Where is my wife?”

  “Oh, your wife now, is she?” Faolan’s grin widened. “Finally accepting it?”

  Muir gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to throttle his friend. “Why are neither of you with Rapunzel?”

  Faolan chuckled. “She asked us to stay behind to wait for you. The lass may be small, but she’s a grown woman, Muir, and hardly unprotected.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re an arse.”

  “And you’re a damned fool is what you are,” Faolan said. “If you can’t see the lass cares for you and loves you, then you’re a fool and you don’t deserve a second chance at happiness.”

  “But I—”

  “A damned fool,” Sòlas agreed. “Been waiting since we dropped anchor to tell him that much, but I thought he’d come to see it in his own time.”

  “The hell are you two on about?”

  Sòlas preened a glossy flight feather then shifted his wings. “That lass you keep pushing away because your head is so far up your arse you can’t see what’s in front of you, came and sought advice from us mere hours ago. Since you neglected to mention it, we let her know our kind aren’t bound to a single mate in one lifetime.”

  “You had no fucking right to tell her such a thing,” Muir snapped.

  “And you had no right to conceal the truth from her. It’s been years, Muir. No one can put a time limit on mourning, but if you let this princess walk away from you, I swear you’ll curse yourself to the end of your days if someone else snatches her up first. She’s a good woman. And she’ll be a good queen. Mark my words, son, she won’t remain on the shelf for long.”

  “She is a wife in title only. I explained the nature of her brother’s scheme to you both.”

  Faolan rolled his eyes. “I give up on you. Talk some sense into him, Da’. I’ll seek out Rapunzel and see if she’d like company.”

  The younger griffin set out on foot. Muir watched him go, clenching and unclenching both fists at his sides. Sòlas didn’t speak until his son was beyond earshot.

  “I’ve seen the way you watch her, son. Tell me you haven’t felt the bonding draw to her, and I’ll give up flying for the rest of my days,” Sòlas said.

  “It’s not fair to her,” Muir muttered instead. “She didn’t choose me willingly.”

  “Maybe not, but she has eyes for you and cares a great deal. Think about that. An unhappy woman wouldn’t give a damn about pleasing you or bringing happiness to your situation.”

  “You of all people should understand.”

  “Fiona would hate to see you like this. My daughter would want you to be happy again, Muir.” Sòlas clapped him on the shoulder. “Honor her memory. Live. Love. Have a full life. To do anything else is to forget what she stood for.”

  Chapter

  Gothel admired her handiwork from the palace balcony overlooking the courtyard. In mere days, she’d accomplished more while moving out in the open than she ever had while maintaining secrecy. Any castle guards who opposed her plot no longer had a choice. The shards had blinded them to love and kindness, filling their hearts with ugly hatred.

  It had taken ten years to gather all the necessary components to claim what was rightfully hers. She’d collected all of Rapunzel’s hatred, despair, and angst, bottled it like a fine elixir and trapped it within the mirror.

  The end result had created the most magnificent pane of ebony glass, the manifestation of pure loathing that distorted all within its sight. What was beautiful became ugly, what was once fair became cruel, and those who would fight against Gothel saw her as their ruler supreme. Their goddess.

  With the excess power siphoned from her daughter, she had been able to amplify the effect, sending thousands of little shards from the shattered mirror into the kingdom. Its performance had outdone her expectations, and soon, all Eisland would be under her control.

  If only her power could reach the east.

  Gothel swept from the balcony and into the queen’s master suite where Joren lay insensible on the bed, his features relaxed in sleep.

  She brushed a wisp of blond hair from her son’s face. He’d barely put up a fight, and crushing him had been as easy as flattening a beetle. “You were always the weak one,” she murmured, though she knew he couldn’t hear her or perceive his surroundings. She’d become far too strong for that, though in the early years, Harold had resisted her control and acted out in strange ways. He’d been present in his mind, an argumentative force until at last she squashed what remained of his will.

  “How I wanted to have your sister here in this bed. I would have had several years of youth and untarnished beauty, but instead, I am stuck with you. A failure unable to secure marriage. As poor a mage as you were a son.” How many years had he wasted at the collegium scraping away at a meaningless title? Archmage. What good had it done him now?

  Disgusted with her own offspring, she stormed from the room and into the hallway. Soon, he would be ready for the transferal, but until then, it suited her plans to keep him out of the way.

  As she traversed the long blue carpet, her idle thoughts turned to redecorating. The pale blue and silver swallowed the palace in light. She’d always loathed the traditional colors of Eisland, but with Harold truly gone, perhaps she’d shroud the palace like a mortuary in black, forewarning all who entered of the doom they approached.

  Gothel had already rid the throne room of roses and replaced their sickly-sweet scent with special alchemical incense meant to focus her powers while unsettling anyone else who entered.

  The throne was the only thing she cared to keep. No one had seen the true potential of the large sapphire, but she had, the moment she first came to the palace as a younger woman. She ran her hand down the smooth gemstone, tiny sparks igniting between her fingertips and the surface. It had taken her decades to tap into the generations of energy suffusing the throne, and years longer to stow the magic she’d stolen from Rapunzel.

  If not for that power, she could have never kept Harold alive so long when his body should have otherwise f
ailed him. Not without depleting her own strength.

  Heavy footsteps echoed through the spacious chamber. She turned to face an enormous man stalking down the barren floor, his broad shoulders and massive frame clothed in the silver and cerulean blue reserved for the elite royal guard.

  Jean-Gaspard was her favorite of all the loyal guards, the son of a wealthy lord from the northern vineyards who had benefited greatly from her arrangements with Ridaeron. Twelve years ago, he’d been a midshipman aboard Hook’s crew, among the first to race to the castle and report each of his former officer’s crimes. In those twelve years, he’d risen in the ranks from young cadet to decorated officer, choosing shore duty and country over any misguided sense of morals. Like several other guardsmen, he knew about the slave ships and had helped smuggle their chattel throughout the countryside.

  It was such a shame she had lost Rapunzel to the beastman. She’d looked forward to inhabiting a younger, rejuvenated body and claiming the young captain in her bed as a treat.

  Jean-Gaspard lowered to one knee. “Your Majesty, I bring news.”

  “Out with it then.” She settled into her throne and crossed her legs.

  “Floren has repelled our forces.”

  Gothel sat up, spine stiff and muscles tight. She leaned forward and focused her gaze on the captain. “What?”

  “One of Lord Emberlene’s men managed to escape the battle and send word.”

  “How? Who?”

  The man offered out the letter in a steady hand, though his gaze averted to the floor. “It was the princess and her husband. They led the attack.”

  Gothel snatched the missive and read its dismal contents. Magic and unfamiliar flying creatures had appeared to turn the tide of the battle and thoroughly squashed the royal army.