“Yes,” she said slowly. “The two men, one his middle years and the other an elderly gentleman. They had no part of holding me prisoner in the tower. She spelled them to watch me, that is all. They need to be set free.”
When Justus let out a squeak, Rapunzel elbowed him—hard.
“So, how did you escape?” King Thomas asked with concern. “We searched for years and years. How did you manage to get away from her?”
Justus looked at Rapunzel, clearly uncertain of what was going on.
She rubbed her hands together, thankful when Justus put his arm around her shoulders. “Of course, you will want to know. Well, you see, the witch… Yes, the witch made my hair grow very, very, long. When she wanted to enter the tower, she would call up Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”
Justus’ choked cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Queen Frieda gasped, ignoring Justus’ interruption. “I had heard that she was keeping you in a tower.”
Rapunzel sighed. How could she explain to her natural mother—no, her mother— that she had heard it because Frieda was the very person who started the rumor in the first place? Taking a deep breath, Rapunzel thought about Romy and everything she had done to make sure Rapunzel would one day get back to Frieda. Surely then, Rapunzel could say something that would help clear Romy’s name.
It was time for Romy to have her happily ever after. Rapunzel knew that she would never get that if Frieda and Thomas knew Romy was alive.
“One day,” Rapunzel said as if she were telling a story, “a prince came along and asked me to let down my hair.”
Freida clapped her hands. “A prince? Oh, this is exciting!”
Justus had another coughing fit.
“I say,” King Thomas said with a look of concern. “Do you need a physician?”
Justus mopped at his eyes. “I hope not.”
Rapunzel elbowed him again. “Anyhow, when Prince Justus climbed up, he waited until she returned and, um, killed the witch.”
“How did he do that?” Queen Frieda asked.
“Yeah?” Justus added.
Rapunzel nearly stared daggers up at him.
“Oh, I mean, yes. I, err, clubbed her with a…”
“Club?” King Thomas added helpfully.
Justus nodded. “Precisely.”
Rapunzel fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was obvious that Justus was just as terrible a liar as she was. Thankfully, Thomas and Frieda didn’t seem overly curious as to all of the loopholes in their story.
“There was a woman who helped us,” Rapunzel added.
“Who?” Queen Frieda and Justus asked at the same time.
“Her name is Romy,” Rapunzel said quickly to cover his gaffe.
“Who is she?” King Thomas asked curiously.
Justus stepped forward. “She is the queen of my people. We live in a small kingdom in the south. We are the Raven people.”
“A queen helped to save you?” Queen Frieda sounded intrigued. “I should like to meet her someday. Is she your mother, Justus?”
Justus did choke this time, while Rapunzel felt a little sad. While Romy had never professed to be her mother, that is the role she took in Rapunzel’s life.
“No,” Rapunzel said quickly, remembering just then that she had said Justus was a prince. It seemed that lying was far more difficult than she could have anticipated. “No, Justus is a relative, though.”
Justus, having finally regained his composure, nodded in agreement.
“Perhaps if you are in agreement, Justus and I can bring her to meet you someday. I have a feeling that you would really like her,” Rapunzel said softly.
Queen Frieda patted her hand. “I am sure I will. Anyone that had a hand in bringing you back to us will be welcomed with open arms.”
“Indeed,” King Thomas added. “Not only will we welcome the Raven queen, but we shall be allies with their nation.”
Queen Frieda motioned toward Rapunzel and Justus. “It would seem that soon enough our nations may be even closer than allies. If I am not mistaken, we may have a royal wedding in the near future.”
Rapunzel flushed. “Mother!”
Queen Frieda froze, tears coming to her eyes. “I never thought I would hear you call me that.”
Impulsively the queen pulled Rapunzel in for another tight hug. When the queen released her, Rapunzel’s cheeks were hot, either from embarrassment or confusion; she wasn’t sure which.
“You don’t have to call me Mother,” Queen Frieda said kindly. “You may call me whatever you feel comfortable with. But I have to admit it means a lot to me that you did. Welcome home, Rapunzel, welcome home.”
Epilogue
Romy
There had been hundreds, if not thousands, of times in the years since Romy escaped with Rapunzel that she had wanted to tell Einar how she really felt. When he climbed into the carriage and demanded that he stay with her, it had cemented how she felt for him.
And yet, it seemed that it wasn’t the time to declare one’s self.
There had been so many sleepless nights when Romy cried as often as the babe, not knowing if she was ever going to figure out how to raise a child. Through all of it, Einar had been there. His knowing smile and laughing eyes had been the one thing that she knew she could rely on.
In truth, there had been plenty of times when he nearly drove her crazy. Romy was always terrified that one day he would slip and accidentally touch Rapunzel. But he never did.
Then there was Papa Otto. Einar was so kind to him, so patient. He helped Papa Otto without making him feel like an invalid.
She could never have done what she did without him. Romy knew it as well as she knew the sun would rise in the morn, and the stars would twinkle in the night sky.
So why didn’t she tell him?
If not when the child was growing out of nappies, why not when Rapunzel was seven, or twelve, or even fifteen?
Had she waited too long?
Was it too late?
Fear like nothing she had ever felt before gripped her.
She had promised Frieda that she wouldn’t rest until Rapunzel was returned to her arms. Well, today saw that promise fulfilled. Had that ruined all of her chances with Einar?
Rapunzel had been one of her greatest adventures. But Romy knew that a large part of that was because Einar had been by her side.
She loved him. What if she never had the chance to tell him that?
Romy paced back and forth in the forest. It hadn’t been hard to cast a spell of concealment. It wasn’t like the area was inhabited. Romy knew that Papa Otto would take this moment to tell her something about how the forest folks were starting to return to the forests.
Papa Otto wasn’t a young man. How had he taken imprisonment? A sob lodged itself in her throat. Romy couldn’t consider the idea of a world without Papa Otto. As she walked, Romy ignored her limp. There had been a time when she couldn’t stand the fact that one leg was longer than the other.
What a silly, foolish child she had been! As if such things meant a hill of beans!
“Romy!” The shout was from somewhere behind her.
Waiving her hand, she dispelled the enchantment and began to run. When she rounded the bend and smacked right into Einar, she didn’t even pause to take a breath.
“I love you!” she said.
His arms reached out to keep her from falling.
“Did you hear me?” she said nervously. “Where is Papa Otto? Oh, dear heavens, tell me he’s okay.”
Einar didn’t let her go. Slowly, he lifted one hand and with his knuckle under her chin, tipped her head up.
“Papa Otto has been set up in a nice room at the palace. Now, are you alright?” he asked in his low steady tone. The only thing that gave any indication of what he was thinking was his eyes. Those were locked on her face.
“What? Oh, okay.”
Einar’s lips twitched. With tender care, he tucked one of her wild curls behind her ear.
&n
bsp; “Are you really not going to say anything?” she blurted out.
He smiled. The creases on the corner of his eyes were so dear to her.
“I’ve always loved you. Even when you were living with Widow Hayes, and I was bringing you radishes. I know that I wasn’t very nice, and I am sorry for that.”
His smile deepened. “Do you want to know a secret?”
Still flustered that her body was in such close proximity to his, Romy nodded distractedly.
“I hate radishes.”
She frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Einar laughed. “My aunt used to order a bushel a week, but when I came to live with her, she increased her order to three bushels. Haven’t you noticed that in all the years we have lived in the same household, I have never eaten another radish?”
“You haven’t?” she asked.
Einar leaned down and kissed the end of her nose.
Romy felt like she might swoon.
“I despise radishes. But I knew that the pretty girl who lived with her papa in the forest would bring them if my aunt ordered them. So, I paid her dearly to do anything I could possibly do to bring you around more often.”
“You wanted to see me?”
He kissed her brows, first one and then the other. “I wanted to be anywhere you were. That’s why I came to help with the gardens. That’s why I befriended your Papa Otto. And that’s why I climbed into that carriage.”
“But,” Romy shook her head, “I mean, I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
“You funny, beautiful, and clearly confused woman—I love you. I love the way you dance.”
Romy laughed. “You carry me when we dance.”
He kissed her forehead. “Don’t interrupt. I love the way that you cast spells when you sleep, and then we have to search for our shoes in the morning.”
Romy blushed. “I am sure that’s perfectly normal.”
“I love the way that you care for Papa Otto. I love the kind of mother you have been to Rapunzel. But most of all, Romy, I love you.”
Before she could do something terrible, like cry, because his words touched her so deeply, she bit her lip and whispered, “I love you, too.”
Romy watched in amazement as this time when his lips came in closer they didn’t land on her cheeks or eyelids. This time Einar kissed her softly but firmly on the lips. Her eyes gently closed as his warm kiss stole away her every thought until suddenly Romy didn’t really care about much of anything besides this kiss.
Because what mattered, what truly mattered, was that the man she loved was holding her close and kissing her to distraction.
All of the things that needed answering, the knots that still needed untangling, they would still be there tomorrow. Romy finally understood that if she wasn’t careful, she might miss out on the love that has been waiting patiently for her all along.
So, was it any wonder that Romy decided to let all of the worries go and to wrap her arms more tightly around the man she loved and kissed him back?
Corbina sighed contentedly. She had always adored a happy ending, and this one was shaping up to be the very best. Her niece Romy, while wrapped in Einar’s arms, had finally found where she belonged. Corbina knew in her heart that the Raven people would finally be free from war under Romy’s reign.
It had been the icing on the cake to see Justus and Rapunzel falling in love. Now the two of them would have plenty of time to get to know each other as well as Rapunzel’s new family. And one day, when the time was right, Corbina knew there would be wedding bells for both couples.
It was almost like a fairy tale.
THE END.
Authors note
** Author Note: Devil’s Breath or scopolamine, is made from the seeds of the borrachero tree, most commonly found in Columbia. There are many tales and legends of the terrible things that have occurred to those that have been dosed with this drug. I have taken creative license to give it the specific attributes that are mentioned in this story.
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 ch
est. 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.
Kingdom of Crowns and Glory Page 24