My Name is Rapunzel(21)

I heard her footsteps going down the stone steps. I wished she and I were truly friends, but how could we be when I didn’t trust her? No, not her. Just a friend—any friend. It had been so long since I’d lost Suzette. I shook my head of the memory. Now wasn’t the time for that.

If it wasn’t for that dragon, I’d be gone. Why was the beast so angry when it discovered my absence when last I’d run away? It was on that night that I realized that the candle represented something to him. Aside from the fact that the beast had become protective over me, by lighting the candle and placing it in the window, I announced that I was home, alive, and safe in my tower. It served as a symbol of my wellbeing. I certainly didn't want an angry mob of people knowing my secret or knowing what sort of creature lived on my land. So every night since that horrible night, I lit a candle and placed it on the window ledge to keep the beast calm. A candle worked better to soothe a fierce dragon than music ever would.

Perhaps I was just being silly. It wasn’t possible for anyone, let alone Gretta, to spy on me. I could hear the sounds of anyone climbing the stairs to approach my tower chambers.

Now, if I were still in the master suite I’d once occupied on the lower level, maybe it would have been believable that Gretta could spy on me. But, here in the tower? No way. Why did I ever agree to allow Gretta to live with me? Why did my father want her here? I should never have made that promise!

Who in their right mind agreed to live with a witch?





CHAPTER NINE




What else could I say? “I'll be down in a few minutes, Gretta.” Father said I must always call her by her given name. I'd never forgotten his face the day I first stood outside the family's castle beside the witch who’d stolen my life and handed me eternity. It was hard to understand, even at the time, how Father, a rational human being, could come to understand so quickly what had been and what would be, so much so that he knew what promises to elicit from me even then. It was almost as if he had seen into the future and knew exactly what would happen. I wish he’d told me what was coming.

So, I held my tongue and ground my teeth against the accusations and reminders I wanted to hurl at Gretta on a daily basis. Politeness and civility became another morning ritual, all just to keep a silly promise I made to my father centuries ago.

It made sense at the time. Gretta would live there at the castle with us, kept close so she could one day reverse what she had done to me when I found a way to convince her to do so. Besides, at least we were together—the likely alternative was that Gretta would have taken me far away against my will. But here I was, two hundred years later, still having breakfast with the witch, still being polite. Father had been freed 199 years ago. And I missed him every single day.

But one thing grew increasingly clear. Gretta was in as much danger as I was of being discovered.

An old woman who forever withered away but never died, and a girl who remained as youthful as a freshly blossomed flower? Oh, how the odds were stacked against us. I found it surprising that we had managed to last so long in the same habitation.

My stomach growled in protest over the delay, so I grabbed my robe and headed for the kitchen. The delicious aroma of crisp bacon and freshly brewed coffee lured me down each step as I got closer.

Sometimes I wondered if Gretta had lost some of her powers. Maybe she had no real hold on me, but I had no way of knowing it. I shrugged off the thought. It was fruitless to ponder things I couldn’t know and couldn’t do anything about.

I remembered enough of the past all too well in my dreams.

“Good morning, Rapunzel,” Gretta greeted with her back turned to me. She always knew when I entered a room, even when I was as quiet as could be. I gave up trying to decipher her and the way she functioned ages ago.

“Morning,” I replied. What was so good about it anyway? I woke up each day still crying from a horrible nightmare and she thought it was a good morning? Not that I wanted to talk about my dreams with her. She was the reason for them. I'd much rather we kept our conversations to a minimum. The less chatter the better.

I didn't intend to be rude. I was just keeping things simple. It was much better that way. I didn't want Gretta to have any false sense of friendship with me, because this was as far as we would ever go: silence for the most part, short exchanges when necessary, and a love/hate relationship with the walls that kept us away from each other's company, but refused to choose a side. But mere existence aside, as long as I lived, as long as I breathed, I would never forgive the woman who took everything that mattered most to me.

“I'm going to town.” Gretta startled me from my ponderings. She turned to face me as she sampled the coffee she'd been stirring. “I'm sure you'll be fine on your own. Maybe I'll find you a nice book or two?” She never asked me if I would like to go with her. Not that I blamed her. It wasn't like we were best friends or anything, or that I'd actually care to go with her anyway. She knew the answer, even without me giving the words life, so she didn't bother to ask.