Ravishing Rapunzel (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales, #6)(18)

Rapunzel nodded that she was following along.

“You know that I have magic, but your aunt doesn’t,” Gothel said, leaning in, staring right at Rapunzel. She took her daughter’s hands into both of hers. “I received my magic when I joined a special group of women who protect maidens. We use our power to help those girls get justice on those who have wronged them. I am one of the FaeRisen.”

Rapunzel squinted at the odd word. “Fay-rizzen?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Gothel said. “We are a group of women who were imbued with magic so that we can assist women who have been wronged by society. Our power is rooted in our chastity, and it helps us root out wicked men who would like to deprive young maidens of their virtue. We are more attuned to the wicked. To thievery, mockery, malice, and vice, than to the good things in the world. We see the good things only when they are targeted by the wicked, and then we use our powers to punish the wicked.”

“Punish them?” Rapunzel asked. “How?”

“It depends. Sometimes we lock them away from the world so they may not harm others, sometimes we change them into their true nature, and sometimes we simply reveal them to others to be dispatched with. But the FaeRisen do this to help, and I was proud to join them.”

Rapunzel thought of the magic her mother did, little feats when the two of them were together. Her mother had been proud to join them, she said, as if it were a choice. She wondered if it was a choice she could make herself. “How do you become a FaeRisen?”

Gothel sighed. “You must want it,” she said. “You must want it more than anything. Most of us sought our power after being scorned by a scoundrel, a man sweet of tongue who tricked us into abandoning our virtue, only to leave us behind. And in our anger and bitterness, we sought revenge. That’s when the Fae appears, and she asks if you want to change your path, to chart your own destiny. She asks if you want to make men who are cruel and wicked suffer, if you wish to provide justice to those who need it but cannot achieve it on their own, and then she imbues you with the power of the Risen, those who have risen above their baser desires, and now mete out justice to those who have chosen not to rise.”

Rapunzel swallowed. It sounded harsh and unforgiving. Though, she supposed she’d always known that about her mother — that she didn’t care for being crossed. That she had never forgiven humanity for whatever wrong it had bestowed upon her in youth.

Her mother’s hand was still atop her knee, so Rapunzel set her hand on top of her mother’s aged one and asked gently, “Who was the man who hurt you, who tricked you, mother?”

Gothel slid her hand away from her daughter. “Dearest, that was long ago, and he is long gone. Long since punished for his crime.”

Rapunzel hesitated a moment. For some reason, her parents, her real parents, popped into her mind. Her mother talked as if she had known of them before they abandoned Rapunzel. Not that she’d given an indication that she’d known them well, but at least of their reputation. Now, Rapunzel wondered if her mother had known her real parents better. Had her real father been someone who Mother Gothel had once loved. Had he left her for the tart that had been Rapunzel’s mother. Not the mother who stayed with her, but the one that callously didn’t want her. Gothel led a life that wasn’t the most compatible with being a mother, so Rapunzel had often wondered if there was more to the story of why her mother had decided to take her in. More than the obviousness of her being kind. Rapunzel wondered if she had been a symbol of a lost life to Gothel. The thing that she’d wanted but had been denied. “The man who hurt you, mother. Was he my father?”

Gothel’s violet eyes flared, starting to glow slightly and Rapunzel recoiled. She did not like it when her mother was like this. But then Gothel calmed herself. “Your father was not the man who hurt me, though I suppose they both had something in common. They were both thieves. The man who hurt me stole my heart and stomped on it. Your father was simply a thief. A common thief who stole my sacred harvest.”

Oh. The sacred harvest. Her mother loved her garden. Back in the cottage, the garden was in the back and surrounded by a magical barrier only Rapunzel and Gothel could cross. Her mother’s vegetables had healing properties to them. Not enough to heal Rapunzel’s ailment, but enough to heal many. Now, on the roof of the tower, no magical barrier was necessary. They were simply out of reach for everyone but the inhabitants.

Rapunzel looked at her mother’s bitter scowl, the pain on her face seeming as fresh as if it happened last night. “What did he steal?”

Her mother laughed. “Rapunzel, of course,” she said. “But in the end, I got you, so I suppose it was an even trade. You are a joy, my dear. Free of the nastiness of the world, pure and chaste. I think if you remain so, you could become a FaeRisen, and perhaps they could cure you of your illness.”

At this Rapunzel’s eyes widened. “You said there was no cure.”

Gothel looked down for a moment, then back up at Rapunzel. “Being imbued with the power of the FaeRisen, it changes you. While my hair turned white as snow when I joined the FaeRisen, I live healthy and free from ailments. I’m never ill. I think the power of the Fae would be enough to cure you.”

Rapunzel stared. “Then why didn’t you say so long ago?”

“Because you were too young,” she said. “Even now, I wonder.”