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Chapter One
495 NE, Month 9, Day 3/30
The window rattles, and I jump, my heart racing as an eerie feeling washes over me. “Impossible,” I mutter, tearing my gaze from the delicate mending project in my lap. The room feels colder, as if touched by an otherworldly presence.
It rattles again, and hate-filled red eyes pop into view, a fanged smile grinning at me wickedly from the other side. Dread clutches my heart, and my breath catches in my throat.
Hastily, I haphazardly toss my mother’s moss-green robe to the side in a rush to cover the window. In three quick strides, I am there and I throw the dark gray curtains shut. My breaths are short and full of fear, hoping the magic holds. The sharp red eyes linger in my mind, and I try to banish the image as the candlelight flickers across my face.
The glass shakes once more, and peals of wicked laughter fill the air. “We’re waiting for you outside,” says a voice, full of malice. “Come down and play.”
An icy chill runs down my back, and with a shudder, I ignore their taunting. To join them would mean death. The glass shakes one last time, then suddenly stops. Slowly, I draw the curtain aside, just enough to see the creature scale down the entire seven story stone wall. He reaches the bottom and scurries off into the cluster of trees.
Vampire.
They’ve never dared come this high. They’ve always feared Mother’s magic. Are they testing the boundaries since she is gone?
I shiver as several pairs of red eyes blink from the trees up into my window. Vampires are an unavoidable hazard of the forest. They’re always hiding in the trees, the dark canopies keeping sunlight away. Even now, the bright orange leaves hide the creatures.
My tower is safe, usually, because of Mother’s protection spell. At the very least, it’s intact. Whether made that way or held together by Mother’s magic, I do not know. It sits in the middle of a forest, and I know there’s a lake nearby. I’ve never seen it, though. I’ve only left my tower once, briefly, when I was thirteen. I didn’t even venture into the forest then, or any time after.
It’s not too bad, my tower. It’s seven levels high, but I mostly stay on the fourth and fifth. The bottom ones are crumbling on the inside and the stairs have been unsafe to use for as long as I can remember. I don’t understand why the vampires don’t attempt to infiltrate the tower from there, since no one would stop them. Not that I could from here. The top two levels are Mother’s, and she warned me to stay out.
“Rapunzel,” she said. Her eyes glinted, narrowing in on me. I hated when she called me that. I prefer Penny. “Magic is dangerous and unstable. You must never, ever go upstairs. Do you understand?”
I was only three when she told me, but even then, I felt the thrum of power leaking out from under the door, a tug I imagined felt like a friend asking to play. A sound like the wind on a sunny day. The underlying sense of danger, as if an explosion would happen with just a look. It’s been easy to avoid those floors since.
The rest of the castle is crumbling, too. When I stare through the window, peering out of the corner, I can see the evidence. Stones strewn across an overgrown grass field and shattered glass reflecting the scant light shining down.
On the first floor of the tower, the door opens to dilapidated stairs. I haven’t seen it myself, not being able to make it past the first half of the second level. It’s simply too cramped and dark.
With a sigh, I leave the window and carefully step over the coils of my hair on the ground and sit back down with my mending. The fire cackles, warmth seeping into my skin, calming me down as the light plays against the walls.
In no time, my mind focuses on the project at hand. I’m fixing a long gash in Mother’s robe, a green flowing garment that she wears on errands for the king. The simple stitches eat away the seconds, and before I know it, I hear a call from the ground.
“Rapunzel, I’m home. Let down your hair.”
I grimace, knowing no one can see the distaste on my face, thankful for this small freedom. Providing my hair as a rope is one of my least favorite tasks. Only my hair can be used, according to Mother. Something about the magic wrapped around the tower.
I tuck my mending into the basket at my feet and make my way to the window. Not checking for vampires, because Mother would surely destroy them, I throw my brown coiled hair, the same color as my eyes, out the window. The long lengths thump against the side of the tower, pooling onto the ground. I hold on tight until Mother climbs up the entire tower.
Her green robe is covered in soot and dust, as well as her red hair. Her usually pale skin is covered in dirt, too. She jumps down from the windowsill and wipes her brow while I take deep breaths. She hauls in a giant basket, which she sets on the floor. Her bright green eyes squint as she adjusts to the light. I assume I look like my father, with my dark brown hair and brown eyes.
Before Mother can say anything, words tumble out of my mouth. “A vampire shook the window.”
Instantly her eyes flash with rage, eyebrows drawing together, and the smell of burned leaves, acrid and bitter, fills the room. “What?”
I cast my eyes downward and nod. She growls, and I glance up through my lashes. “How dare they? I will deal with them.” She stomps upstairs, slamming the door shut to her workroom.
My shoulders drop in relief. That would take care of the vampire threat. I turn to the window and pull my hair up, slowly drawing in the dark brown coils. I glance into the trees and my stomach flutters with nerves.
A vampire stands at the edge of the trees, his arms crossed. His expression is full of rage as he surveys the castle. Instead of the two red eyes I expect, though, his right eye is completely white. His eyes catch mine, and even from here, I see surprise that mirrors my own. I open my mouth to scream, but he disappears before the smallest note of sound leaves me.
Chapter Two
The next day, I wake early to cook food for Mother. I open the windows, letting the sunlight filter through. We have a candle chandelier on the ceiling, but I can’t light it without magic.
I debate whether or not to make enough stew for her dinner as well. I never know how long she’ll stay, and this time is no different.
