Golden (17 page)

Sixteen

“I thought you weren't coming.”

Of course I was coming,
I opened my mouth to say. I was standing on the tower balcony, halfway between the windows and the railing, close enough to hear Alexander's voice but still be out of sight.

I've been looking forward to seeing you all day. Besides, it's not as if I have much else to do. I'm trapped up here, if you recall

But instead, I bit down on the tip of my tongue and said nothing. For now it was Rue's turn to speak, to put in motion a sequence of events that would awaken her heart, win her a princes love, and gain back her freedom, all at the same time. All she had to do was open her mouth and speak to Alex.

As opposed to what she was doing right this very moment, which was standing in one of the balcony's big casement windows, neither quite inside nor out, behaving precisely as if she'd just come down with a terminal case of laryngitis.

“Don't just stand there,” I hissed over my shoulder. “Come out where he can see you. Say something.”

“In a minute,” she hissed back. “I'm working up to it. Don't rush me.”

“I know you're there,” Alexander called up. “Look, I brought a torch. Now we'll be able to see each other.”

And the soldiers, if they re still around, will be able to spot you,
I thought.
I'll bet Harry had a hand in this.

“Just walk forward, as slowly as you like, until you reach the railing,” I whispered to Rue. “Go see what he looks like. Trust me, the moment he sees you, matters will start to take care of themselves.”

“You don't know that,” Rue whispered back.

Oh, yes I do,
I thought. “If you don't come out on your own two feet, I'm going to drag you out by your hair,” I said.

“You wouldn't,” Rue breathed. “My hair weighs more than you do. You're not strong enough.”

“Look,” I said, grasping my patience firmly with both hands instead of Rue's hair. “Just pretend you're taking medicine. Do it quickly and get it over with. I'm going to count to three.”

“All right. All right,” Rue said. “I'm coming. There's no need to—”

“Treat you like a child. I know,” I said.

She stepped all the way onto the balcony and began to make her way toward the railing, Mr. Jones trailing along behind. As she passed me, I reached out to clasp her hand, then scooped up Mr. Jones. Five steps. Now eight. Now twelve. Then, at last, she stopped, and I saw her hands come up to grip the railing and hold it tightly. Perhaps it was simply the starlight reflecting off of all that golden hair, but it
seemed to me that she glimmered like the last glow of twilight.

For fifteen beats of my heart, the same number of steps it had taken Rue to cross the balcony, she looked down, and the prince looked up.

“You are beautiful,” Alexander said. “Even more beautiful than I spent all day imagining, my Rapunzel.”

No
,
no!
I thought. For, though highly poetical and romantic, it was altogether the wrong thing to say. It accomplished exactly what the sight of Alex had managed to make Rue forget: She was not Rapunzel. She turned abruptly from the railing and took two staggering steps away.

“Where are you going?” Alexander cried, and I could hear the pain and confusion in his voice. “I've waited all day, just as you asked. Now you won't even speak to me. What have I done?”

Without warning, Mr. Jones dug his claws into my unprotected neck. Stifling a cry, I let him go. He bounded across the balcony toward Rue. At the sight of him, her footsteps faltered. She went to one knee and gathered him up into her arms.

“What is it, Rapunzel?” Alexander asked. “Are you unwell?”

Rue lifted her head then, and her dark eyes looked straight into mine.
You are a cruel and selfish creature, Rapunzel,
I thought. For Rue's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Her heart was well and truly awake now. I had forced it out into the open before it was ready, then left it, defenseless, to fend for
itself. All it had taken to wound it had been the sounding of my name.

So I did the only thing I could. The only thing my eyes and heart could see to do, in that dark night.

“I'm fine,” I spoke. “It's just—”

“I know I look a little funny,” Alex interrupted, the relief plain in his voice. “I'm sorry. I meant to say something, to warn you, but when I saw you, every single thought seemed to go right out of my head.”

“There you go, sounding like a prince again,” I scolded. “I thought we agreed we didn't need so many pretty words. What really happened?”

“I'm not sure I want to tell you,” Alexander said. “It's too embarrassing. Let's just say I'll never make a good forester and leave it at that.”

“Very well,” I said. “If you say so.”

“You're sure you're all right?” he asked again.

“I'm fine, Alex.”

“Then come back out where I can see you.”

At this, Rue made a distressed sound and shook her head. “I'm sorry. I can't do that,” I said. “At least not for a few moments.”

“I don't understand you tonight at all,” Alexander said. “You seem so different. Don't you want to see me?”

“Of course I do,” I said. “But this isn't some courtly game, Alex. You are free to walk away when-ever you want, but I am trapped. It will take more than pretty words to set me free.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to sound false. What would you like me to say?”

“Tell me how you spent your day,” I said.

“I made a friend,” he replied at once, then laughed. Rue's head tilted toward the sound. “Listen to me,” he said. “I sound like a five-year-old.”

“A friend. That sounds promising. I'm happy to think you're not alone.”

“His name is Harry,” Alexander said. “I'm not so sure he thinks very much of me. He spent most of the day mumbling about useless princelings who can't see what's right in front of them. It has to do with what happened to my face. I think he was trying to be insulting.”

Rue had turned her head to one side now, as if the better to hear Alexander's voice.

This can still work,
I told myself.
Just keep talking.

“Yet you call him a friend,” I commented.

“I do,” Alex said, and he laughed once more. “He may not think much of me, but I like him. He's certainly a change from fawning courtiers and mealy-mouthed ambassadors. He has said that I may stay with him in the woodcutter's cottage, but not if I expect to be waited on. I wanted him to come with me tonight, so that I could introduce him. But he claims it's unnecessary, for you've already met.”

“I have met Harry,” I said.

“How long have you been in this place?” Alex suddenly asked, and I saw Rue wince.

“I'm not sure I know,” I answered. “I don't think time has always moved in the same way for me as it has for everyone else.”

“Have you no companions?” Alex asked.

“I have a cat named Mr. Jones,” I said.

There was a beat of silence.

“I think,” Alexander said at last, “that life in your tower must be very lonely. I meant what I said. I would like to find the way to free you.”

“Because you feel sorry for me,” I said.

“Because I love you,” he answered.

I heard Rue pull in one shaking breath.

“How can you love me?” I asked.” We just met. Do you think love is a first impression and nothing more?”

“Of course not,” Alexander said. “I have seen love. I can hardly claim to be an expert, but I think I know the real thing when I see it.”

“Where have you seen love?” I asked. For it came to me, in that moment, that I had never seen it for myself. Not the kind of love I wished for Rue, anyway. Nor the kind I wished for myself.

“There is a tale in my country,” Alex said, by way of answer. “It is told to old people when they fall ill. Young ones hear it as they fall asleep at night. It tells of the days when a blight hung over our land. Nothing prospered. Nothing flourished. Not even zucchini would grow.”

“It must have been a terrible blight indeed, if that were true,” I said without thinking. Alex laughed, and it was a joyful sound.

“To tell you the truth,” he confided, “I've never liked zucchini very much. But it does grow just
about anywhere, so you have some sense of how bad things were.”

“I do,” I said. “I'm sorry for interrupting. Please, go on.”

“The king of that time decided there was only one remedy,” Alex continued. “He must marry his son to the wealthiest princess he could find, and hope that her dowry would help provide the means to bring the country back to life. This king's son was much more dutiful than I am. He met the girl his father had chosen on one day, married her on the second, and on the third, he brought her home to his castle, which was not much more than a pile of drafty stone. The princess took one look at it and said, ‘I am now your wife. I have promised to honor and to cherish you, though I never promised to obey, for I have a mind of my own. Most of all, I have promised that I will find the way to love you truly. This, though I hardly even know you, for our acquaintance is no more than three days old. For these promises that I have made, and the ones you made in return, all on behalf of others, I would like to ask you to grant me one wish for myself alone.'

“‘You have but to name it,' the newly wedded prince replied. Which was the gallant thing to say, if not the cautious one.

“‘I wish you to build me a room,' his wife said. ‘One single room where I will be warm in winter, and cool in summer. A room that will ring with my laughter, but where I will not be afraid to rage and
cry. A room so well made I can trust that it will shelter me when all others fail, in which our children may be conceived and born. You must do this with your own two hands, for it is not a task that may be entrusted to any other. Will you grant me this wish?

“The prince was understandably startled at this request. He had been taught to do many things, but building a room of any sort had hardly been among them. The truth was that he did not know how. But as he stood pondering how to answer, he discovered that he did know one thing: He knew how much he wanted to try. For the wish that had been growing in his heart all the while his wife had spoken was that he might prove worthy of whatever she might ask. And so he said, ‘Madam, I am not certain I know how to grant this wish, but I am certain that I will try.'

“‘That answer will suffice for now,' his bride said. And so, together, they went into the castle, and on their way in, the prince reached down and picked up a single stone.

“For many years the prince worked on the room his wife had wished for. Years that saw him become king, that saw his own sons and daughters born into the world to be princes and princesses. Years that saw his hair turn gray even as his kindom prospered. For the people of the land, inspired by their monarch's dedication, set about following his example. All they did, they strove to do well.

“There were many days when the king could do
no work on the room at all. On those days, he would wrap his fingers tightly around the stone he had picked up on the day his wife had made her wish, as if, simply by touching this small piece of rock, he could make the room she had wished for grow. And, when, at long last, the day came when the king prepared to leave this life, on that day he turned to his wife with tears in his eyes.

“‘I have loved you above all else,' he said. ‘But still I have failed you, for the only thing you ever asked of me, a single room, remains undone.'

“‘Great, foolish heart,' the queen replied. ‘How can one so wise still be so blind? You have worked to build me what I asked for all the days of our lives. Even when the task seemed impossible, even when it would have been easier to give it up, you did not, but kept on going. You have kept me warm in winter, and cool in summer. You have laughed with me, and you have cried. You have given me the children who are almost, but not quite, my greatest joy.