I nod once. Only once because his words are busy proving me a liar twice today. We can never go back to the way things were—and I’m scared of Wren Kincaid.
11
RAPUNZEL
Sybil couldn’t hide me here forever.
If a boy from Leeds found me, King John will as well. It’s an inevitability. When that day comes, he’ll use my curse to make himself—and his army—unstoppable. Use it until there’s nothing left. Until Rygard is a shadow of its current glory, and its people tremble in fear of him.
With the need to protect this kingdom at the forefront of my mind, I face Wren’s hatred.
“Thereisa door at the base of the tower.” I swat wisps of hair from my face. When loose, the blonde waves hit the backs of my knees. Today, however, I spent nearly an hour twisting it into a tight plait, but some strands have worked free and the breeze is blowing them into my eyes. “Go around to the back. Near the well.”
“Then what? You’ll toss down your braid like a rope for me to climb?”
I wince at Wren’s mockery, countering with, “Or I could simply unlock the door.”
“Watch your tone, Rapunzel.”
He’s right, of course. There’s no call for sarcasm—not when he’s covered in his mother’s blood. “Give me a moment to unlatch my chain.”
“So much for it being unbreakable except by an enchanted blade.”
“Sybil’s spell holds,” I insist. “She wove it in case I ever…” I let my sentence trail off and avert my eyes.
“If you ever what?” he demands.
“Tried to leave while she was gone.” I drag my gaze back to him, remembering every time the loneliness threatened to drive me mad. “But Sybil has two keys. One she wears around her neck, and the other she keeps hidden inside the tower. She thinks I don’t know about that one.”
“Shame,” Wren sneers. “I was hoping to hack off the foot.”
And on that awful statement, he walks away to disappear around the back of the tower.
I don’t believe he made an idle remark, and I would pledge my last breath that he would enjoy taking off my foot to get me out of this tower.
Out of this tower.
Dear God.
I’m indeed leaving. The idea doesn’t seem real. Not yet, as I hurry to the stairs leading to our bedrooms on the second level, the chain scraping along behind me. I drop to my knees and remove the face of the first step to access Sybil’s secret compartment. I fish out the hidden master skeleton key. It unlocks the floor panel that blocks the stairway that spirals down to the tower’s secret entrance, the door, and lastly my chain.
My palms are slick, and my fingers tremble, making it nearly impossible to fit the key into the lock. But I manage. The clasp opens, and the manacle falls away. I spring to my feet and dart to the left area of the room. There, I unlock the second obstacle. A rush of cool, stale air slaps me after I lift the panel. I grab a candle to light the darkened, musty stairwell, and the moment my slippered foot touches the first step, I take a hard breath and pause, afraid. I’ve never moved beyond this point. My heart thunders almost painfully as I nod in silent reinforcement.
Each breath is a huff as my steps bring me closer, not toward freedom or even Wren, but an unpredictable future. And once I reach the bottom, I slide the key into the lock. I crack open the heavy door—barely an inch—when I leap back with a startled cry. The candle and key fly from my hands. The flame sputters out before hitting the floor.
Hands grab me, fisting in my yellow tunic. I’m hauled outside and slammed against the tower. Pain radiates up my spine at the impact. I blink against the blinding assault of sunlight. Against the rush of summer air that I heave into starved lungs. The woodsy aroma of the forest is so strong and too…close. It tickles my nose and makes me sneeze. I had a window to this world, but the height had dissipated its heady smells. Or is Wren’s rich scent invading my senses as he fills my space? I don’t know. Everything is overwhelming, and as I fight to find my footing, my feet glide over slick blades of grass.
“Stop struggling, Rapunzel.” Wren’s warning whips around me, his face inches from mine.
“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me.”
He gives me a rough shake, my back colliding with the stone again. “Behave, and I won’t.”
“I’m fighting because you’re hurting me,” I protest.
Wren releases my tunic, and I fumble for his shoulders to gain my balance. He grabs my chin and forces me to meet his angry brown eyes. I resist the urge to press into the first human touch, other than Sybil’s occasional awkward embrace. “I won’t tolerate disobedience from a liar like you.”
Damn the tears that well in my eyes. “I never lied to you.”
