Golden (16 page)

“Love at first sight, yes,” I said. “Not love at first sound. You've never even seen me. You've only heard my voice.”

He gave a quick, unexpected laugh, and, just as unexpectedly, I felt my heart leap at the sound.
Oh, he is perfect,
I thought.

“I think you're splitting hairs, Rapunzel,” he said.

Not
I, I thought.
Not
I. But though I could not see him, I thought I could see my way now. So much would depend upon Rue, which was only fair, as it was her heart I was trying to free anyhow.

“What makes you think I'd be any easier to live with than the neighbor king's daughter?” I inquired.

“Just one important thing,” Alexander answered. “I can choose you for myself.”

Perfect, indeed,
I thought. Now all I had to do was find the way to bring Rue and this prince together.

“Do you really want to help me?” I asked.

“I do,” he said at once.

“Then come back again, tomorrow night. Promise me you'll stay hidden during the day, so the soldiers won't find you.”

“I promise,” he vowed.

“I mean it, Alexander,” I said. “If you show up in broad daylight, I won't come out at all, even if you call my name until you're hoarse. I'll refuse to speak to you ever again. You'll have to go home and marry the princess next door after all.”

“I promise, Rapunzel,” Prince Alexander said again. “If you will promise something as well.”

“ What?” I asked.

“Promise that, sometimes, you will call me Alex.”

“You want me to call you Alex?” I asked. “That's all?”

Even from the top of the tower, I thought I heard him sigh. As if many things he'd held inside for far too long had finally been let go.

“Just once more?”

“Alex,” I said.

“Thank you, Rapunzel.”

“You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow night.” No more than a figure of speech, of course. “And remember your promise.”

“I will,” Alexander said. “Good night, my Rapunzel.”

I opened my mouth to say I wasn't his Rapunzel at all, then closed it before I made a sound.

“Good night, Alex,” I said instead.

“So!” he said. “Three times, and the third time works the charm.”

I thought I heard him move off then, for there came a rustle from far below. Then, without warning,
I heard a sharp cry. I flew to the tower railing, my heart in my throat.

“It's never going to work, you know,” a voice I knew quite well said.

“Harry,” I hissed. “What have you done?”

Fifteen

“I didn't do a thing,” Harry said at once. “I didn't need to. Your brave and handsome prince put his foot straight down a gopher hole, pitched forward into the trunk of the nearest tree, and knocked himself out. It's a miracle the soldiers didn't catch him earlier.”

“You have to help him,” I said. “Is he all right?”

“He'll be fine, Parsley,” Harry said, and I shivered, for his voice seemed cold. “His head will probably be sore for a day or so. I'd thought better of you, I must admit.”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded crossly. “And keep your voice down. I don't want to wake up Rue.”

“Now why could that be, I wonder?” Harry inquired. “It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that you're planning to sneak off and leave her with nothing, I suppose?”

“Of course I'm not planning to do that,” I said. “What are you talking about?”

“Come back tomorrow night, Alex,”
Harry said, in a not particularly flattering imitation of my voice.
“Stay hidden during the day, so I'll know that you'll be safe.”

“You think I'd do that,” I said, a statement, not a question. “You think I'd turn my back on Melisande and her daughter while the promises I made them both are still warm in my mouth. Are you sure you're not judging me by yourself, Harry? You were the one who once planned to steal a horse belonging to a man who'd saved you from death itself, as I recall.”

“Don't think you can make yourself look better by throwing my past in my face,” Harry said. “I heard what I heard.”

“So you did,” I said. “And now you can hear this as well: Good night.”

I turned to go.

“Don't walk away. Don't you dare walk away from me, Rapunzel,” Harry cried. “You owe me an explanation.”

“I don't owe you a thing,” I said, and wondered that I could speak at all for the way the words scalded my throat. This was what he thought of me, then. That I had so little spine, so little honor, that I would leave Rue to an unhappy fate and break my own word in less than a night.

“My debt is to the sorceress and her daughter. I mean to pay it in whatever way I can. Don't think that you can judge me, tinker's boy.”

“Why must you always do that?” he demanded.

“Do what?”

“Call me by the one name you know I dislike the very most.”

“I suppose that would be why,” I said. “Just as that's why you call me Parsley.”

“Your name is Parsley,” he said.

“My name
means
parsley,” I replied. “It's not the same thing at all. Go to bed, Harry. It's been a long day. But first, make sure Alexander is all right.”

“He's really that important to you,” Harry said.

“Yes,” I replied. “He's really that important.”

Not just to me, but to all of us,
I thought.

I know what some of you are thinking: Why didn't I just come right out and tell him? Why didn't I explain what I had in mind? Here is the only answer I can give you: If you have to ask, you've never been in love. More than that, you've never had your feelings hurt by the one you want to trust and cherish you most of all.

So I did not explain why Prince Alexander was so important to me. I would let that be a lesson the tinker's boy learned for himself.

In time. If all went well.

“There's a woodcutter's cottage, not far within the trees,” Harry said. “It's old, but still well made and snug. I suppose there could be room for more than one. But don't expect me to wait on him or do his bidding. I wouldn't get your hopes up too high. He'll probably give up and wander off.”

“Thank you, Harry,” I said.

“I don't want your thanks,” he answered shortly. “I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Mr. Jones, and for Melisande. You're not the only one who knows how to discharge a debt.”

“Thank you anyway,” I said.

But my words were met with silence. Though I stayed on the balcony for many moments, listening with all my might, I heard only the sound of my own heart, and, high above my head, the wind, whispering secrets to the cold, unheeding stars.

“No!” Rue said. “Absolutely not!”

It was early evening on the second day. I had put off telling Rue what had happened for as long as I felt I could, a choice that had given me new sympathy for Melisande. There's something about knowing you have to tell someone something you know equally well they won't want to hear that definitely encourages you to hold your tongue.

I had to tell Rue sooner or later, though. The sun was about to go down.

“But it's the perfect solution. Don't you see?” I asked. “He already fancies himself half in love.”

“With
you”
Rue said. “Half in love with
you.
I'm not a charity case, thank you very much. Besides, what's he going to do, call me Rapunzel?”

“What does it matter what he calls you?” I asked. “What's important is that he thinks it's love.”

“But it would be a lie,” Rue said. “A lie from the very beginning. How can a lie grow into true love?”

It was a good question, I had to admit, and one I had spent most of the day grappling with myself. I wasn't stupid. I could see the potential flaws in the
plan I'd dreamed up so suddenly the night before, but I still thought it was worth a try.

Handsome princes lost in forests, and ones desperate to escape marrying the neighboring kings daughter to boot, weren't likely to come along very often. Personally, I saw no reason not to take advantage of the one we had, though I had to admit that the phrase “take advantage of” had a somewhat unfortunate ring, given what I was so eagerly proposing.

“The wizard who put you here turned love into a prison,” I said. “That's not right either.”

“So now two wrongs really do make a right? Is that what you're saying?” Rue asked crossly.

She was sitting at her loom, her fingers moving the shuttle back and forth in quick, irritated motions. Mr. Jones watched at her feet, his tail switching back and forth, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

“Of course not,” I confessed. “I'm just trying to point out that it's not always possible to see the end of something at its start.”

“Very poetic,” Rue said. She gave the shuttle another shove. Mr. Jones's head followed the movement of the shutde. “But poetry is just words.”

“You see, that's just what I mean!” I cried. “That's just the sort of thing I said to Alex, to Prince Alexander, last night. All you have to do is talk to him the same way you talk to me, and he'll never know the difference between us.

“Just go out and meet him,” I urged. “Please, Rue. We're running out of time. I know this plan isn't
beautiful and noble, but it's the only one we've got.”

She was silent, frowning at the loom, but I noticed her fingers moved the shuttle more smoothly now.

“You realize this means you'd owe me a favor,” she said. “This is twice you've asked for something now. I've only asked you for one thing. You'd be in my debt.”

“I don't think that's quite the way it's supposed to work between friends,” I said.

“Friends,” she echoed, and she turned her head and looked at me with those violet eyes. “Friends,” she said again. “Is that what we are?”

“Maybe not yet,” I acknowledged. “But isn't that what we're working toward?”

“I honestly don't know,” she said. “I guess so.” She stopped weaving altogether. The second she stopped moving, Mr. Jones jumped. For a moment I feared he was aiming for the loom. But instead he landed on Rue's lap, turning around three times, then settling in right where he was. I watched as her fingers absently stroked his fur.

“Waking up is hard work,” she admitted after a moment. “Harder than I thought it would be. I was picturing—oh, I don't know—something more glamorous and a whole lot easier, I suppose.”

“Sort of like a knight in shining armor?” I supplied.

She smiled at that, a smile that matched her name. A rueful smile. “It's just a dream,” she said.

“Maybe,” I answered. “Maybe not. Maybe all young men who love us become knights in shining armor when we love them back. Even if they don't, Prince Alexander comes pretty close all on his own.”

“But he thinks he loves you,” she protested.

“Of course he thinks he loves me,” I said. “He thinks that I'm a damsel in distress, trapped by enchantment in this tower. I'm not, and we both know it. I'm the one who stayed here of her own free will. You're the one who's trapped. So which one of us does he think he's in love with now?”

“You're giving me a headache, Rapunzel,” Rue said.

“It's one of my best talents,” I said. “And that was a yes, wasn't it?”

She bent over then and buried her face in Mr. Jones's copper-colored fur. “Yes, that's a yes,” she said after a moment. “I will meet this prince of yours.”

“Of yours,” I said firmly, as I got to my feet. “And remember, he likes to be called Alex.”

She didn't speak again, not right away, but as we watched the sun go down in a blaze of orange in the river, I could swear I heard her practicing.

“Alex,” she whispered. “Alex. Alex. Alex.”