Page 3 of Down from the Tower
Now I’m just a Grim Reaper, set to prey on some helpless princess locked in a tower.
5 Months Later
1 Rapunzel
All that glitters stands to ruin my life.
My fingers run through the long strands of my hair as I stare out the window, admiring the newly added bars. They obscure the scenery, making the bay in the distance look that much further out of reach. The sun is out, kissing the earth with hot rays of gold as the day gets going.
Briefly, I try to peer around the tower towards the gardens below. How I miss the grass and dirt, how I dream they’d be now as an adult instead of a child. I remember the roses and trees and even that one really big flower that mother loved to care for. The gardens feel like a dream now, something I vaguely remember but can’t touch any longer. It pulls my eyes from the far corner of the land that I can see back towards the water, and the only view I ever have anymore. Sail ships are my life since I cannot see the other side of Tressa and the formidable wall most days.
Eyeing the sails, my heart sinks when I note the green flag blowing gently in the breeze. My least favorite guest is in port, and if I know anything about the King, he’ll want me to appear for a private audience.
My throat bobs, hands clenching at the golden locks of hair. My instinct is to rip them out, but they’ll just grow back as strong as before and the pain would be for nothing. I’d be punished if I put a wedge in the way of the royals plans.
Not just any royals. My parents.
“Your highness,” a timid voice says, and I peer from the window towards the door. It’s locked and double barred when I’m in my chambers, which is more often than not.
It isn’t for my protection. It’s the only way to guarantee that I’ll stay put. The last time I got out, the King grabbed my hair too hard and pulled for such a long time that pieces ripped from my scalp. He used the cursed tresses to tie up my hands and feet and wail on me.
Because my hair is cursed with his so-called gift. He can touch it with either hand, never having to worry about killing me with the golden touch. I’m the only person in existence he can get away with that with. My skin is another matter, something he won’t test.
I purse my lips, eyeing the handmaid that’s waiting in the doorway. Guards know better than to walk in here without permission. I’m the golden gift to Tressa, and no one would dare earn the King’s ire for trying to harm me. “Anastasia.”
She lets out a little gasp when my voice echoes around the room. I know there’s color smudged on my cheeks and fingertips, making me unpresentable to any guests in the castle. The port is full, and I know the King and Queen only request me when they want to share my power with guests.
I’ll be returned to my chambers after, like a tool back in its shed. The bars are in place to keep me from risking my life on the rooftops to get a breath of fresh air.
Anastasia tugs the worn remnants of her purple maid’s skirt to one side as my cat pads into the room, his striped back a unique blend that’s tinted pink and purple. I grin at him, bending to pat his fuzzy middle as Anastasia continues to fret.
She’s the less annoying of the two sisters. Anastasia is resigned to her life as a maid, but Priscilla is determined to flirt with any guard that looks her way even if it’s unsuccessful. I might not get out often but when I do I get the joy of witnessing that every so often. From what I understand the two girls were orphaned long ago when their mother died on a mission for the King and Queen. At least that’s the story that Anastasia likes to whisper, claiming she was lost outside of Tressa where few dare to go.
“King Midas requires your presence in the parlor.”
She doesn’t need to explain. I know which one she means, and the idea of going in there makes my fingers tingle, the unhelpful fear seeping into me.
Only King Midas. Sounds like mommy dearest isn’t going to be in attendance. As much as I despise her, she keeps the Golden King sane. Every time I go to visit with them, it’s another crazy quest and ideas that sound fantastical, if not a little wild. Occasionally he lets a name drop from lands afar, but for the most part I meet the same few guests over and over again, performing the same actions.
Blowing out a sigh, I straighten up and square my shoulders. Ignoring the command never works out for me, so there’s no point. “Very well.”
Anastasia nods, backing out of the room. “Robin will let you in when the King is ready.”
I stop myself from rolling my eyes. Robin the brave. Now a slave to the Golden King, trapped forever in a gilded prison.
No one is brave here. Not when a single touch can damn you forever.
There’s no point in readying myself when I know what’s coming next. Marching to the door, Cheshie abandons me to lounge in the room, and I swipe my fingertips over the folds of my dress before touching the golden handles of the door, pushing into the hall.
The air isn’t stale out here. I take a big breath, letting my chest fill with the fresh air drifting in from the open windows. It makes my heart ache, knowing freedom is just outside a gilded door.
“This way, your highness,” a gruff voice says, and I glance to the side to spot one of the head guards. I can’t remember his name; it’s hard when the only times I ever see anyone is when I’m being escorted to play the King’s bargaining chip.
Without me, the kingdom of Tressa has gold and that’s it. It makes the royal family powerful, having an endless amount of gold and an enchantress to play the hand of life.
The guard takes off, and I scramble through names until I remember this one is Theo. He’s a bit stingy, and very irritable, but at least he doesn’t gape at me like some of them.
The Golden Princess. Locked forever in her tower.