Rescuing Rapunzel (13 page)

Words burned behind his eyes, so powerful, I could feel them, yet I knew not what they were. I opened my mouth to ask, but he closed my lips with a brush of his finger.

“I have…”

I reached for him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Thunder roared through me as I held him, staring into his eyes. As close as we were, he could not hide his torment.

“Please,” I said, though I knew not what I asked for, except that I craved touching him, if only to ease his burden, to soften the worry that marred his brow. “How can I make it better?”

His forehead touched mine. “I cannot bear to think of you trapped here, Tressey, but I also cannot force you to leave. I will come to you, every day for the rest of my life, if that is what it takes to convince you.”

I stood on my toes, pressing my lips to his.

He let out a groan, and when his lips moved against mine the most delicious sensation rippled through me. The first kiss we shared was nothing like this. It seemed chaste and barren in comparison. I started to sway, and he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against his body. My breath was stolen by the beauty of this warmth against me.

I held onto his shoulders, looping my arm high around his neck. Running my fingers through his hair, I marveled at the texture, so smooth and silky it felt as fine as the most delicate silk.

Nick’s mouth opened, teasing my lips. He pulled me harder against him, letting out another moan as my hips crashed into his.

I pulled back, afraid I had somehow hurt him. “Are–”

He stopped my words with his mouth, running the tip of his tongue over my lips. A sigh escaped me and I sagged against him. With his hand on my jaw, he tilted my head to the side and dipped his tongue into my mouth.

Fire burned through my body as the kiss deepened, until I thought I might explode.

Nick slid one of his hands along my back, the other caressed my waist, and I sighed as he slipped his lips off mine to touch my jaw, to slide over my throat. I groaned as his kisses sent more lightning through my body, bringing every sense to life. My knees began to buckle, but he held me firm against him and did not let me fall.

“Nick,” I whispered, my voice sounding husky and strange to me.

“My Tressey,” he murmured against my throat.

As he came up, he began to wobble, his hand landing on the table to balance. A crash of breaking teacups. Nick winced and jerked away from me.

I shook my head, trying to slow down my humming body, when I saw his hand–a slice down the side, blood pouring out. He pinched his eyes shut, whispering under his breath.

I reached for my handkerchief to staunch the blood. “Nick, are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, it is not bad,” he said, though he held his hand curled against his chest.

“Let me see, please?” I pulled the wounded hand away from him, my head still floating from his kiss, and had to blink several times to focus on his hand.

The cut was long and deep. Though it did not gape and the blood flow was slowing, it was enough to tempt infection if not properly cleaned.

I took his other hand and pressed it over my handkerchief. “Hold this to it, while I get what I need.”

I flicked my hair out of the way and charged into the storeroom. I grabbed the herbs and tinctures I needed, as well as a clean bandage, and had started back to Nick when I noticed the dagger lying on one of the shelves

I knew what I had to do. The dagger added to my collection, I came back into the room with all my supplies.

Nick had cleared up while I was gone–the broken pieces of the cup lay neatly in the saucer–so I set everything on the small table and cleaned the cut.

When that was done, I exchanged my now-soaked handkerchief for a scrap of fabric and pressed his hand over it once more. Placing the herbs into the mortar, I ground them with the pestle until I had a fine powder. I needed one more ingredient.

“It will heal in a few days’ time, and I shall be good as new,” Nick said.

I glanced at him. “But it will infect.” I grabbed the dagger.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What are you doing with that?”

I looked around the floor until I found the end of my hair lying near the window. “This,” I said, marching across the room and snatching it up. Gritting my teeth, I took a deep breath then chopped off a small piece, no longer than my thumb.

I let out a slow breath, releasing the pain as I had done a thousand times with Mother, to hide how much it hurt. This was different though. Before, it had always been to please her. This was because I chose to do it.

Sweat beaded on my brow and I had to forcibly hold myself upright as I walked back. I slumped into the chair and motioned for his hand. Twisting the hair together, I placed it directly on the cut. Nick let out a hiss as I applied the herb mixture and wrapped a fresh bandage around his hand.

When I was done, Nick sighed.

“Is it still throbbing?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Why your hair?”

My head pounded and I wiped sweat out of my eye. “It has healing properties.” I stroked the braids hanging off my shoulder. “Mother said it has something to do with the golden color.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I have met men and women with golden hair like yours and never once have I known the hair to have healing properties.”

I shrugged. “It is the way of it.” I nudged the dagger with my hand, shoving the thing away. I did not want to even touch it more than necessary.

“But how is it possible? I have never heard of such magicks.”

“I do not know. It has always been this way. Mother has been using it in her healing potions since I was a little girl.”

“How did your mother learn of it?”

“Perhaps it had something to do with her healing abilities? She might have taken special herb teas, I suppose, before my birth. The herbs can do many things when taken in the right combination.”

He shook his head. “I am awestruck.” His eyes went dark. “I can understand why she would keep you hidden.”

I blinked at him. “Why?”

“The value of your hair. Herbs that can heal are quite expensive, and very few of them do as they are supposed to.” He rubbed his hand. “Already my hand feels much better. Your hair is a rare prize, Rapunzel. There are many who would pay a great deal of coin to have just a piece.” He glanced around the room. “And you have twenty ells of it.”

I shivered, for Mother had once told me the very same thing. I raised my eyebrow at him. “I thought that was why you were here as well.”

Nick let out a breathy laugh. “No, not at all.”

“Then why are you here?”

He looked away from me. “I do not know,” he whispered.

“How can you not know? You have a reason. Everyone has a reason.” My stomach started to tie in a knot, for a dark cloud spread over his eyes.

He sighed. “The first time I saw you, I was intrigued by you. Locked up in a tower like a princess in a story. Then, I heard your mother hit you. I was appalled. No nobleman would allow such treatment of women.” His eyes met mine. “Women are gifts to be cherished, not beaten and broken.” He stroked the bandage on his hand, straightening the knots that bound the fabric. “I wanted to help you. We had a plan.”

“We?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“My two friends, Penn and Bryan, and me.” He smiled wryly. “We wanted to rescue you.”

A chill seeped into my bones. “If you were so determined to rescue me, then why did you not do so?”

 
“You were not willing to come with me. If I forced you all I would accomplish is taking you from one prison to another. I would be no better than your mother.”

“So all of this,” I waved my hand in the air, passing over the presents, “all of this was to win my trust, so I would go with you?”

“Yes.”

Fury burned through my body. Very slowly, I stood up, my hands shaking. I felt twisted, bent, manipulated into trusting him.

He had tricked me.

He had tricked my heart.

I slapped him.

Nick’s head swung to the side but he did not move otherwise. Instead, he slowly turned to face me, and his eyes were cold and dark.

What had I done? What would Nick do to me for such an attack?

I backed away from the table. Even if I had to cut off some of my hair–assuming I could walk after–I would use the stairs in the storeroom and get away.

I snagged the dagger off the table, brandishing it the way Mother had showed me. I would not be helpless.

Nick stood. “You have no cause to fear me, Rapunzel.”

And he did the most remarkable thing. He did not come toward me at all. Instead, he walked, head down, to the window.

“If it makes any difference,” Nick said, his shoulders slumped, “my intention was honorable. I wanted only to save you, to let you live a life away from such abuse.”

“So you wormed your way into my heart?”

“I did not intend to,” Nick said, staring at the stone wall. “I came here today to tell you I am betrothed to another.”

His words slapped me harder than Mother ever did. I wanted to fall to the ground, wanted to dissolve the pain in an ocean of tears, but first I needed him gone. I wanted to shove him out the window and be done with him.

Instead, I calmly grabbed a length of my hair and tossed it out the window. “Go. Now. Do not come back.”

His eyes shone in the light. “Rapunzel, please.”

I shook my head. “Go.”

And he did. He watched me as he climbed down my hair, and–halfway down–he paused. “Rapunzel, I am sorry.”

“Go, before I cut this hair off.”

I felt the pull on my hair as he descended, but I was not even granted one last look at him, as my eyes were filled with tears.

Chapter 22

“Nicolas, a word, if you please,” the Duchess of Hohburg called out.

Nick groaned. He knew from experience his mother would have her word–or words, rather–whether it pleased him or not. And, more than likely, there were plenty of them she wanted to direct at him. He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss anything with his mother. Especially not in the sour mood he had been in for the last four days.

He needed to get out of here. His first impulse–to ride to Rapunzel’s tower–withered when he remembered her command to never come back. As much as he hated it, he would not go against her wishes.

He had already done the worst possible thing to her–he had hurt her. No matter how much he had wanted to avoid this, her pain was entirely his fault, and he felt the worst kind of ass about it.

Maybe he should have let Penn talk her down. For Penn would have never let himself get wrapped up in her as much as Nick did.

And Nick was completely enveloped in Rapunzel. His Tressey. He wanted nothing more than to go back, beg on his knees for her forgiveness.

Yet he could not change his duty. And that made him the sickest of all.

Duty was duty and, regardless of how he felt about Rapunzel, he was betrothed. There was nothing that could be done.

He could hear his mother within, abusing the furniture while she waited. She slammed a door shut with particular violence, and his head throbbed. Ever since that night he could not get rid of the ache in his head. Or maybe it was the one in his heart that caused such pain.

It mattered not. They were one and the same.

Nick paused in the great hall. “Yes, Mother.” He peeked into the room. His mother was pacing, opening and closing cabinets with unnecessary force, and Kiki shadowed her.

Nosy little brat. She had probably been telling Mother every single time he left.

After shooting his sister a glare, he turned to face his mother. The duchess–a short, stout woman–carried herself with a dignity that was only marred by her natural inclination toward frenetic activity when in the midst of one of her schemes. All the signs pointed to this being one of those times.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Out for a ride,” Nick said.

He took Ovet out at least once a day now, pushing her into a gallop as soon as they cleared the castle walls. Leaning low over her neck, he would bury his fingers in her mane and close his eyes. Try to lose himself in the thunder of her hooves, in the strong and steady beat of her heart, in the heat rising from her coat. He kept urging her faster, hoping in vain to outrun the ache in his heart.

Kiki snorted behind Mother, bringing him out of his reverie. Her dark eyes narrowed on him. Evidently, he had committed some great crime and Kiki was bound and determined to hear his punishment.

“Enrika,” Mother said, not bothering to look back at her. “You have things to do, do you not?”

She grinned. “No, I have nothing I need to do.”

Now Mother did turn, and her expression must have been something to behold, for Kiki’s grin slid off her face as if greased. “Go,” Mother said. “Find something.”

Kiki huffed and headed out the door, muttering about being dismissed after she had been the one to inform Mother.