Ravishing Rapunzel (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales, #6)(5)

Before she knew it, the day had completely slipped away. The sun was low in the sky and Rapunzel realized she had to get home. “I’m sorry, Bradyn. I must leave.”

He nodded. “Alright, then. You can meet me here tomorrow, and we can talk again.”

Rapunzel shook her head. “I can’t, Bradyn. I’m sorry. I get sick if I’m out and about too much.”

Bradyn looked skeptical. “I’ve never heard of anyone with such an ailment.”

Her brows creased with irritation at his doubt. “Then I am your first.”

“You’re outside now, here, with me,” he said. “You seem fine.”

Rapunzel couldn’t deny that. “I know, but I can only be out for short spurts. I am terribly sensitive to miasma. More so than most people.” She glanced up at the setting sun and turned toward the forest that would lead her home. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” he said.

Rapunzel had taken a few steps, but she turned back to him.

“Perhaps,” he said, a hopeful twinge in his eye, “you only get sick when you’re out alone. Perhaps with a friend, you won’t be as bothered. Come back tomorrow, please.”

“I have to go,” Rapunzel said, and she ran off into the woods, back toward her house. But she wondered if Bradyn were right. Could being with others help?



*

Rapunzel returned to the little wooden cottage with the thatched roof that they lived in. She was alone when she arrived. It was a bit of a surprise, because she’d fully expected to see her mother and aunt.

However, her mother left her alone at home for long stretches, so Rapunzel wasn’t daunted by the prospect of solitude. She’d devised many ways to occupy her time, reading the books aunt Giselle sometimes gave her, experimenting with cooking, tending to her mother’s garden, or just imagining.

She hoped Giselle would be with her mother when she returned. Sometimes, Rapunzel wished Giselle was her mother. Her aunt talked sweetly, laughed freely, and always had a kind word to say. But her mother never let Giselle stay for an extended period, and Rapunzel was forbidden from discussing her illness with Giselle. “Giselle doesn’t understand such things, and gets in such a worry when you try to explain,” her mother would remind her before her aunt’s visits. “It’s best not to say anything about your illness to her.”

Tonight, Rapunzel decided to make a stew of garden vegetables. It was close to sunset, but she ran out and grabbed enough crops before it was dark. She cooked enough for herself, her mother, and her aunt, praying she’d been right and that Giselle hadn’t left without saying goodbye.

Shortly after the stew was ready, the door to the house opened.

“Mother,” Rapunzel said, running toward her mother, who was removing her red traveling cloak. Mother Gothel had straight white hair that hung to the middle of her back, though she often pinned it up, was petite in height and weight, and looked pleasant if she offered her toothy grin.

“Hello, dear,” her mother said. Gothel’s violet eyes stared down at the girl, looking her over. “You didn’t stay out too long, did you?”

Rapunzel shook her head, knowing she was telling the truth. Even though Rapunzel hadn’t met a lot of people, she knew her mother’s violet eyes were strange, and she often wondered if they held the ability to know if you were lying.

“Gothel,” a voice said. “You’re blocking the door.”

Rapunzel leaned to the side to look around her mother where she spied her Aunt. Giselle was similar to Gothel in height, but was plumper, and had dark auburn hair and kind brown eyes.

As Gothel moved aside, Giselle came in, and Rapunzel blasted straight toward her, throwing her little arms around her aunt’s waist. “I’m glad you’re still here!” Rapunzel shouted with joy.

Giselle laughed. “A gal could get used to this type of greeting. Keep it up, and your mother won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Gothel pushed the door shut, and said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Giselle. You have a shop to run, don’t you?”

Giselle sighed and patted her niece. “Indeed, I do.”

“I’ve made a stew for us,” Rapunzel said. “I’ll get you some.”

Rapunzel headed over to the pot and began to ladle out bowls. Giselle removed her blue traveling cloak and handed it to Gothel, who hung it on a hook. “Onions?” Gothel asked.

Rapunzel shook her head. She detested onions.

“I’m going to get one to add to mine,” she said and stepped out the door.

Rapunzel brought a bowl of soup to the wooden table in the center of the room. Giselle took a seat, and said to her niece, “So, tell me, child, did you have fun on your little solo adventure today?”

“Oh yes, Auntie,” she said, barely able to contain her enthusiasm. “I went out today and played in the field and I saw a butterfly and it was so pretty. But then a boy came along and scared it away, but he was even better, in the end, because he was friendly and told me all about kings and queens and the royal court.”

Just then the front door slammed. “You talked to a boy?” Mother Gothel screeched.

Rapunzel had forgotten it didn’t take long for her mother to grab something from the garden. She swallowed as she stared at her mother, whose violet eyes were starting to glow crimson. She hated when her mother got like this.