Ravishing Rapunzel (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales, #6)(9)
Rapunzel realized she’d gotten lost in thought and was now staring at the floor, rather than the mirror. She looked up and nodded to her aunt. “I’m sorry. My mind wandered.”
“Don’t worry, child,” she said with a laugh, her entire frame shaking. “The best minds wander at least a dozen times a day. They usually find something amazing on at least one of those occasions. Now, as for you, I’m going to send you a special book for your birthday. Normally, I send you tales of friendship or adventure, but this is a love story. A great love story with, um, much detail.”
Rapunzel liked details, so that seemed good. She nodded eagerly.
“Don’t show it to your mother, though,” Giselle said. “While it’s perfectly appropriate for a woman your age, Gothel isn’t quite ready to let go yet.”
Rapunzel nodded. She wasn’t bothered by the idea of an express secret. On the most basic level, almost everything Rapunzel did was a secret. Her mother was gone so often, she had no idea what Rapunzel’s daily life was like. While Rapunzel tried not to expressly lie to her mother, she also didn’t tell her mother things she didn’t need to know. This would be no different. “Of course, Auntie,” she said, offering an earnest nod.
“I’ll send the book the usual way,” she said. “It should arrive this evening. Your mother contacted me earlier and said she’ll return in two days, so you’ll have a day or so to enjoy it before she returns.”
“That sounds lovely, Auntie,” Rapunzel said, meaning it. “Thank you again.”
“Anything for you, my sweet,” Giselle said, then she waved goodbye and her image faded. The mirror was simply a mirror again.
Chapter 4 – Love Story
Giselle’s present had arrived as expected. Two large birds, flying together in unison, had landed on her window sill with a cloth package tied to one of each of their legs.
“Oh my, you must be exhausted,” Rapunzel said as the birds chirped kindly. She untied the package and brought over a small bowl with water. Then she brought a second bowl with some bread crumbs.
The birds pecked the food up as Rapunzel watched. “Thank you for bringing this,” she said, as the birds ate.
She lifted the cloth package, a bundle tied with the loose string edges that had been attached to the birds. She untied the string, releasing the bundle to find a thick, leather-bound book inside. It was a strange, strange book. Unlike other books her aunt sent, there was no title on the front. Just the imprint of a rose. Above the rose, it said, Volume 1. Beneath the rose, it said Ferrus Lucunditas.
How entirely strange. Rapunzel had never seen a book like it. She showed the birds, as they always enjoyed seeing what they had carried. They peeked up from their meals and squawked happily. “I shall sit and read a bit,” she said to the creatures as she wandered from the window to a plush wing-backed chair near the opposite wall.
The chair was her favorite, with its stuffed cushions and purple velvet fabric. She sat down and ran her fingers along the trim on the book. The leather was soft and supple beneath her fingers. She opened the pages of the book and the paper was thick and sturdy. There was something about the book, though, that seemed a tad, off. It seemed magical.
Rapunzel was used to magic at this point in her life, and she could feel its tell-tale traces. Her mother was a regular person who had been imbued with magic when she was eighteen, and since then, she had traveled the world to rid it of the unjust. It was why she had such long absences from Rapunzel. She saw evil regularly and used her powers to combat it.
When Rapunzel had been younger, she’d thought magic mirrors and spells were a normal thing. Eventually, the fact that she lacked such powers made her wonder why, and Mother Gothel had explained that not everyone was born with magic, that it was a rare wonder in the world. And since then, she always watched for magic. Now, she could get a sense whether there was magic in an item. The vegetables her mother grew in the garden held magic. And something about this book had a flavor of magic to it, though she wasn’t sure why.
She opened it to the first page. There was no dedication, as she often saw in books. Instead, there was just the number one, centered in the middle of the page, indicating the first chapter. She read.
I loved Evangeline from the moment I first met her. There was nothing about her that couldn’t be loved. Her laugh was so full of mirth, it infected everything that she did. Her hair was the color of dark roses, and just as soft to touch, like silky threads I could run my fingers through. Her eyes were as blue as the sea, but never stormy. Always a welcoming embrace, like a lap of warm waves that greets you at the shore.
It was definitely a love story, Rapunzel chuckled to herself. She spent the next half an hour reading, and then she got to the passage that made her realize why she should not show these books to her mother.
I had never seen anything lovelier than Evangeline’s perfect body. Stripped naked and laying peacefully on the blanket as if she were my own personal heaven, waiting for me to enter her. The milky white skin seemed to glow beneath the moonlight. Here under the stars, in the secluded country air, on a blanket in the grass was where she looked her most divine. Her neck was a silky smooth, her breasts like perfect melons, ripe for me to pluck, and her lovely belly a perfect plane, with that dot of a navel in the center. The hair that covered her opening was a magnificent pile of auburn curls, and those legs, as she lay there spread for me, seemed to be the road to my salvation.