Finally, she and Sir Walter reach the dais. She lifts her head. Her eyes meet mine, and Anne is again in the large emeralds that pierce through me. Those eyes see beyond my crown and throne and fine garb. They behold the grief that chaffs me raw whenever I think about my wife. And even deeper still. To the sickness slowly rotting me to death.
Before I address her, I first give my attention to Sir Walter. Let her wait. It’s an act of power, this, to put her in her place. Also, to allow me to compose myself before speaking directly to her. Blast the woman for having this irksome…unnerving…effect on me.
I may not like the man, but Sir Walter is steadfast in his devotion to Rygard, so I say, “You have the crown’s appreciation for delivering the lost princess to us.”
Sir Walter inclines his head. “It is my greatest honor to reunite her with Your Majesty.”
“I trust we did not lose many good men during this endeavor?”
“Regrettably, we did, Sire.”
“Terrible shame,” I say with a sombertsk,as if I care about the loss of a handful of soldiers. Anyone and everyone were expendable against the need to get Rapunzel safely to me. And when I finally angle toward her and extend my hands, she takes them, and I note how she trembles. Good. She should be frightened. “Welcome home, Daughter. I have waited for this moment since the day you were stolen from me.”
“As have I, Your Majesty,” she whispers.
“You are not what I expected,” I admit to this stranger staring at me through Anne’s eyes.
Her small, shy smile is, I hate to admit, captivating. “Nor are you.”
I drop her hands and clasp mine behind my back and puff out my chest. The action causes a rumble in my lungs, forcing me to fight a cough. I will not appear weak. Not when this woman, who, despite her quiet voice, brazenly meets my stare. She does not cower before me. Impressive, yes, but also grossly insolent. Remarkable how she stands there, bold as you please with that hair. That fucking hair infused with Sybil’s magic—and tainted with my wife’s death. It falls to her knees in golden waves, mocking me. Remind me how each day I can’t use its magic is one more day this sickness inside me inches me toward my grave.
If I wasn’t aware of the consequences, I’d have my guards hold her down while I cut every strand off her head.
And yet, I admire the regal lift of her chin and the determined set of her shoulders. The more I study her, the more I reluctantly admire much of myself in this striking stranger. My Anne was a gentle woman, may her soul be at peace. Perfect in all ways. She knew her place, unlike this woman, who…
Who was spared the rod and allowed to retain the arrogance she inherited from me.
“What did you expect, my dear daughter?”
“A monster,” comes her quick reply. Then with an embarrassed laugh, adds, “Complete with horns.”
I must pretend I am a pleased father finally reunited with his daughter. I let out a hearty laugh and tap the points of the gold crown atop my brown curls. “No horns here.”
Rapunzel moves closer to Sir Walter and tilts her head to regard me through narrowed eyes. “And yet you destroyed half your kingdom and slaughtered innocent people to find me. I’m curious, Father. Are those not the deeds of a monster?”
A glance over her head shows the courtiers listening intently to our conversation. I should have dismissed them when the guards alerted me she had arrived. Damn my arrogance in thinking she would have come in cowed. How dare this woman be so arrogant? Howdareshe question me? Why doesn’t she fear me? If I so choose, I could toss her in my dungeon alongside Sybil. Take her hair instead of choosing to bide my time and ask it from her.It is my fucking right as king.
As her father.
But because a piece of Anne lives inside this woman, I choose to be benevolent toward her and extend a kindness I would never show another living soul.
“No, Rapunzel.” I draw on patience that will quickly wear thin should be press me. “They were the actions of a desperate father.” I step off the dais, keenly aware that every eye is on us. Of Sir Walter looming, primed, and tracking me as I wrap my arms around my daughter. “We are together now. Our family can heal. My only regret is that your mother is not here to celebrate this glorious day with us.”
Rapunzel’s arms hesitantly snake around me, and a cheer erupts throughout the hall. The noise almost drowns out her whispered question that sounds too close to my ear.
“We are not enemies?”
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
“That, Daughter,” I say low enough for only her to hear. “Remains to be seen.”
She pulls out of my embrace but doesn’t step away. “May I speak plainly, Your Majesty?”
I give her the slightest incline of my head, displeased at my curiosity about what she might say. “Of course.”
“I have lived the whole of my life as a prisoner. First Sybil’s, then Wren Kincaid’s. All I ask for is freedom. My loyalty lies with the person who grants me the liberation I crave. No, that’s wrong.” Tears wet her incandescent eyes. “The freedom Ideserve. So, I ask you, King John of Rygard, are you my father or my captor?”
Dare I believe the sincerity behind her words? I would have Rapunzel compliant in my plan to use her hair to cure my illness. Although I’ve committed a trove of sins that will land me in Hell, I’m not willing to add Anne’s heartbreak to the pile. Forcing our daughter’s compliance will tear my beloved’s soul apart. If I face Anne in the afterlife, how can I tell her I harmed her child?
