Trees around them echoing the howls of spirits, Prince Salimen's guards sent anxious glances toward each other, but the prince heard nothing but the song,
strangely hypnotic, drawing him onward, the call of a siren, far from the fabled sea.
It was in a slight clearing that the sound enveloped him, where he was pulled to its origin, a tree that grew as high as the others and blended against the
darkening sky. At the base was a patch of briar, too thick to scale, too tall to surpass, but, as his gaze trailed the trunk, unable to see what lay at the
top in the darkening night, there fell suddenly a way up, a long stretch of corn silk leading toward his destiny.
"My, my," he uttered. "For an unlucky son, this does seem to be an incredible spot of good fortune."
"It could be a trick." An outspoken guard tried to dissuade him, and the prince sent him an agitated glare.
"Then, I shall be a fool," he said, grabbing the silk where it fell past the briars, heavy-soled boots keeping his feet from harm as he pulled himself
skyward.
The prince knew well what he was doing, felt it in his very bones. What waited at the top of the tower was meant to be his, belonged to him, would serve
him happiness for the rest of his days. At least, the portion of happiness a wife could be made to serve.
Midway up the tower wall, the song that had drawn him tapered off, but the prince climbed into its echo, until, at last, near the top of the long climb, he
could see her. Eyes closed against the evening breeze, a small smile adorned her face, highlighting perfect beauty. She was just as he had envisioned her,
and that which he climbed, he realized, was the maiden's hair, soft and inviting.
Holding tightly to the strong mane with one clutched fist, Prince Salimen slid a hand over the maiden's where it rested on the window ledge, baffled when
her face turned suddenly to a frown and the eyes of blue that opened before him appeared more frightened than inviting.
"Do not worry," he said. "I am here. You are safe now."
The maiden, though, did not seem to appreciate how delighted she was to see him, staring in bewilderment instead of welcoming him inside. He would have to
show her, he realized, what his appearance at her window meant to her future, would have to demonstrate what happiness awaited her at his command.
Hand grasping her neck, he pulled the maiden forward, and, to his great surprise, the maiden jerked away, tugging her hair along with her. Wrenched
suddenly from his grasp, Prince Salimen's handhold was no more. Reaching out for something, he found only air as he plummeted back down, making his landing
amongst the briars at the tree's base. Pain sharp in his hands and chest, he felt the thorns most keenly in his eyes, and, upon his resultant cry, the
guards came to collect him, easing him from the briar patch, rough hands paining him everywhere they touched.
"Get her!" he shouted. "Bring her to me!"
Forcing his eyes to open, Prince Salimen could still only hear the guards follow his command, for he could see nothing of them. Sticky tracks running down
his cheeks, pain unbearable, he closed his eyes again and saw no difference.
"She pulled the rope up." A guard rushed up to say. "There is no door. There is no way in."
"There must be a way," Prince Salimen countered.
"There is nothing," the guard returned, and the prince again tried his eyes. Free of sight, the guard's responding gasp was loud in the prince's ears.
"You need care, Your Highness," the guard said. "There is much blood."
"Then, take me back," the prince commanded, teeth clenched more against the humiliation of being ordered than the pain. "We will bring rams and we will
knock that tree down. That girl, she is my destiny. I will have her."
With no response, nor warning, the guards swept him off his feet, and Prince Salimen could feel the trees whip by as the bay of a specter rose from the
darkness.
T
he sharp edges of the shackles dug into the skin at Cinderella's wrists, as, despite knowing there was no escape, she resumed her struggle. Fraying in the
rope that bound her hands to her feet should have hinted at vulnerability, but no matter how she pulled at it, the threads held fast, and, night rapidly
falling, the shrieks of phantoms descended. Overhead, Cinderella watched the dark shapes materialize, and realized, with macabre amusement, they were the
least of her concerns.
Cart swerving without warning to avoid one diving specter, she fell suddenly to her side, head knocking the wood block situated at the head of the cart,
pain flashing behind her eyes.
"Careful back there," one snarling guard tossed over his shoulder. "We do not want you to break our stuff."
Sharing a low laugh as another ghoul dived at them, the guards were forced apart as it passed between them and over Cinderella's bound form. Watching it
go, she could not find the strength to continue her fight with the binds.
Perhaps, the prince had already found Rapunzel. Perhaps, Rapunzel was as accommodating to him as she had been to her. Perhaps, he truly could make her a
queen, and, of all queens who had ever been, Rapunzel would be the most benevolent, Cinderella was certain. No one deserved such power more.
If the prince could free Rapunzel, he could protect her. He surely had the means to do so, or could win back his father's favor as he said. It was far more
than Cinderella could ever hope to offer her. Perhaps, the prince finding Rapunzel would be for the best. Perhaps, Rapunzel would want such a life, it
occurred to her, and the notion made Cinderella weak.
With the next sudden shifting of the cart, though, Cinderella's thoughts also shifted, as she remembered she had once been posed the same solution to an
undesirable life, and had found the answer just as unsatisfactory. Perhaps Rapunzel would want that life, the life with the price, in a palace, surrounded
by guards and extravagance, but, until she knew with certainty it was the life Rapunzel wanted, she had no right to her own surrender.
Her vigor renewed, Cinderella found the binds just as tight, the situation every bit as hopeless, as she tugged the unforgiving metal against her wrists. A
phantom passing close by, its cold swept over her and she closed her eyes as her teeth knocked painfully together. If only they were friendlier creatures,
they might actually be of use to her, just as the birds of her kingdom had always been her saving grace.
Disjointed thoughts floating through her desperate mind, Cinderella looked to the trees that passed above. The birds, she realized, they were still there.
As everything else within the forest, they were only in hiding from its nighttime visitors. If only they spoke the same language.
Lips curving on a whistle, her voice came out thin with dread, and Cinderella forced it with all the volume she could muster.
"What is that?" the same snarling guard called from the front. "You whistle as you travel to your slavery? Now, that is a welcome attitude. I once beat a
man to death with a stick. I should have liked to have heard him give a whistle."
The guards laughing again, Cinderella pressed into her voice, determined to be heard over the howls of the dead and never-living and the mocking laughter
of two guards who were quite proud of themselves for capturing an innocent, unarmed woman at the whim of a royal.
"All right," the talkative guard suddenly snapped. "Enough. You draw them to us. Shut your mouth, or we will tie that up too."
Drawing his anger, Cinderella had also drawn allies. She watched them materialize from behind leaves and hiding spots deep within the trees, braving the
spirits to come down and meet her, and continued to call out to them until the cart came to a violent stop and she slid head-first into its front wall.
Voice failing at the sudden rush of pain down her neck, Cinderella groaned. Then, with a tremulous breath, she whistled louder.
Whirling on the cart's box seat, the mean guard, the one who did all the talking and threatening, raised his hand to silence her.
"Hey!" The quieter one pulled him back around. "Something is coming."
"Is that a specter?" the mean one asked.
"Back up," the other instructed.
"I can't." The mean guard's voice clenched. "The horses will not move."
Although she could not see them, Cinderella could hear them, the cluster of wings flapping in rapid succession, bearing down upon them, until suddenly the
great flock surrounded the cart, the pecks of their beaks meeting with howls from the guards as they jumped from the seat to evade their attackers.
Birds coming at her too, Cinderella rolled to her back, feeling the small nicks upon her skin as sharp beaks made quick work of the rope that bound her
hands and feet together. Freed of the crippling tie, she could roll to the cart's edge and haul herself over it, landing upon her knees and elbows on the
overgrown cart path.
Pushing to her locked hands, she looked up at the keys that dangled from the belt of the mean guard, and sprung to her feet, moving as fast as her arrested
gait would carry her.
Both guards swinging their swords erratically, attempts useless against their small, agile foes, Cinderella slid beneath the sweep of the mean one's blade.
Feeling the keys against her palm, she yanked them from his belt, rolling to the side to thrust the key into the lock at one wrist and pulling the shackle
free.
As she bent to her feet, a sharp whistle of warning sounded in her ear, and Cinderella rolled aside with a cry as a shiny blade sliced the earth beside
her. Murder shone joyfully in the guard's eyes as he grinned down at her, before the birds were in them, pecking and scratching, and the guard was forced
to release Cinderella from his sights to save himself.
Hands surprisingly steady at the task, Cinderella removed the shackles from her ankles and the final cuff from her wrist, tossing the metal trappings
aside, and looked to the short sheath at the mean guard's hip she had been eyeing since he first closed the shackle around her wrist. Lunging for the
dagger, she pulled the blade free, and jumped back with enough deftness to avoid the edge of the mean guard's blade, but not quickly enough to avoid its
tip, which cut through her dress to split the skin beneath.
Pained exhalation joining the haunted sounds around them, Cinderella gave her location away to the second guard, who charged blindly toward her. Diving
from his path, her eyes went wide as momentum carried the guard and his sword forward until the blade buried so deeply in his companion's stomach, it
thrust out the man's back. Having seen and known violence, but never another cut down before her, Cinderella watched the mean guard crumple, unable to
flee, until the hiss of a spirit at her ear reminded her there was no time to mourn the loss of one's enemy.
Dashing for the cart as both guards were dragged down beneath the dying one's weight, Cinderella groaned as she hoisted herself to the seat and felt the
cart shift beneath her. Well-tended and sharp, the guard's dagger cut through the reins tethering the horses in one slice, and Cinderella leapt onto one
horse's back, slapping the other on the rump to send it rearing into the forest. Grateful for all the cause she'd had to outrun those who meant her harm or
humiliation, she spun the steed around and pressed her knees into its sides, holding tightly as it raced to a gallop.
The spirits whipping by were of little note as she made it almost back to where her unexpected journey began, before she saw light coming toward her.
Bending the horse into the cover of the trees, her hand moved through its rough mane as it protested the thorny path.
"Shhh," Cinderella pleaded, hand shaking in her attempt to calm the animal, as the light came closer, illuminating the prince's guards upon the path, an
object strung amongst them.
Their lamplight swinging back and forth in an effort to keep the forest demons away, Cinderella had to move deeper into the shadows, in more danger from
the living than the dead, as the guard troop came close enough to be overheard.
"She will be mine!" Prince Salimen sounded furious and stark mad from amongst them, and it took Cinderella a moment to recognize that he was the thing
strung between the guards, supported by their subservient hands and shoulders. "She is mine, meant for me!" The prince sat suddenly up amongst them,
wearing a bloody mask around his eyes that made Cinderella cover her mouth to prevent a gasp. "I will be king, and I will have my queen."
Letting the foot brigade go by, Cinderella listened to their steps fade before she backed from the cover of the trees, guilty as the horse gave a snort of
discomfort, and started at a trot until she felt safe to return to a gallop.
When she reached the tower, Rapunzel's hair was pulled in, and, both guards and specters too close, Cinderella knew it was unwise to shout. Throwing the
reins around a stump, she pulled herself quickly through the branches. "Rapunzel," she called when she reached the level of the window, her fright greater
than any she had ever felt as Rapunzel appeared moments later with a tear-stained face. "Are you all right?"
"No," Rapunzel cried.
"Did he hurt you?"
"No," Rapunzel sobbed. "I was the one who did the hurting."
"And you regret that?" Cinderella questioned, shaken as much by the response as the narrow escape.
"Of course, I regret that," Rapunzel returned. "I do not want to harm anyone, and do you not see what I have done? He will go to town. My mother, she will
find out. If she knows he has been here, if she knows I have had a visitor, she will hide me away and I will never see you again."
"Is that what you worry about?"
"What else?" Rapunzel replied, and Cinderella felt a strange, perhaps inappropriate, sense of relief. "You should go, Cin. If she finds you here..."
"I am not leaving without you," Cinderella countered at once.
"I cannot leave," Rapunzel argued.
"Yes, you can," Cinderella assured her. "You can. Is this what you truly want, Rapunzel? If you could have anything or everything else in the world, would
you still want most for us to be together?"