Braided, page 9
Sir Joshan cleared his throat.
“She is,” I said. “We’re not going to let the fae take her back.”
“Of course not,” my mother agreed. “But we have some concerns about your sister’s fitness to be queen. Which seem to have been confirmed today.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Fireball was a distant shape on the horizon, so far away you couldn’t even tell there was anyone on his back.
“I agree,” the mage said. “She seems a bit…unstable?”
I swung around to glare at her. “She seems like someone who’s been trapped in a tower her entire life. I think she’s still figuring things out. Maybe she’s nervous—”
Sir Joshan snorted. “She’s not nervous.”
I was pretty sure he was right, but I transferred my glare to him anyhow. “How would you know?”
“I traveled with her through the Realms for a day and a half,” Sir Joshan said. “We were attacked by bands of pegasi and centaurs, we were almost drowned in a whirlpool that appeared in the middle of a forest, and we had to fight off flowers with teeth. At times, even I thought we wouldn’t make it. But she was never afraid—or even nervous—once.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did she seem nervous to you when the faerie appeared in the castle and issued that threat?”
“She’s very brave,” I said.
“She’s not brave,” Sir Joshan said. “Being brave means knowing you’re in danger, knowing the worst could happen, and doing what you have to do anyhow. Your sister was never in danger, not once in her entire life. She grew up under the faes’ protection. In the Realms, nothing bad could happen to her. That’s why she doesn’t care about consequences. Because she’s never had to face them.”
My mare tossed her head again. I loosened the reins and narrowed my eyes at Sir Joshan. “Oh, yes, that sounds like you love her.”
“Of course I love her. I loved her before I even met her.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“And she loves me, too.”
I scowled. “It doesn’t look that way to me.”
“No,” Sir Joshan agreed. “She’s frightened by the strength of her feelings for me, so she’s hiding them even from herself.”
“Well, then, she’s doing a really good job of it.”
By now we were entering the castle courtyard. My mother motioned us into silence, and we all obeyed.
It wasn’t until we had dismounted that my mother strode over to me. When she spoke, I could tell she was trying to sound gentle. She wasn’t very good at it. “I know how much you wanted Rapunzel back. We all did. But we don’t really know who she is, Cinna. I’m not even sure she knows who she is. We have to accept that she may not be suited to rule the Borderland.”
“No.” I shook my head, the edges of my hair swishing against my chin. “Rapunzel is the firstborn princess. It’s her right to rule.”
“Succession in the Borderland,” my mother said, “has never depended on birth order. Our right to the throne lies in our ability to defend our realm from the fae, and that depends on our possession of magic.”
“Rapunzel possesses magic!”
“Yes,” my mother said. “And so do you.”
I touched the bristly ends of my short hair. “Not anymore,” I said defiantly.
She waved a hand. “It will grow back.”
“Then I’ll cut it again.”
“Cinnariosia!”
I had never before openly defied my mother. Quivers ran up my legs, but I lifted my chin. “I’m not going to steal my sister’s place. You don’t have two princesses to choose from. You have one. And that one is Rapunzel.”
My mother’s folded braid whipped over her shoulder as she turned away. It was now deep, dark red with streaks of black running through it.
“We’ll see,” she said. Then she strode toward the castle entrance without another word.
Sir Joshan and Mage Talyani exchanged looks, then followed her. Neither of them glanced back at me.
I stood alone in the courtyard, watching them go. I was amazed at myself. I wasn’t actually sure if I had won or lost, or if neither of those words applied. I didn’t know exactly what had just happened.
But I couldn’t wait to tell Rapunzel about it.
* * *
“Well,” Nanny Cresta said, shutting the lid of my clothes chest. “That was something.”
“They say the dragon’s shadow made it dark as night!” I had never heard Oriana sound so breathless about something that didn’t involve Sir Joshan. “And that Rapunzel flew right through the fire the dragon breathed and laughed while she did it!”
“I also heard that people thought Cinna’s gown was very pretty,” Nanny Cresta added quickly.
The back of my gown had been completely splattered with mud when my horse ran off the path. I hadn’t discovered the mud until I took the gown off in my room, after I had ridden through the entire city and walked all the way through the castle still wearing it.
“They say she’s going to gather all the dragons,” Oriana went on, “and lead them in a war against the Realms!”
I stepped out from behind the changing screen, my new, clean dress swishing against my legs. My right knee hurt from being bent around the sidesaddle pommel. “What? Who says that?”
“Oh, you know,” Oriana said, flipping back one of her braids. “Everyone.”
“Who, specifically, did you hear it from?”
“A bunch of different people.”
I gave up. It didn’t matter; the rumor could have come from anywhere. It definitely hadn’t started with Rapunzel. It couldn’t have, because Rapunzel still hadn’t come back.
Which didn’t seem to worry anyone but me.
Of course it didn’t. They had all seen Rapunzel announce her return with a grand aerial display. Giving every indication that she was ready to assume her rightful place on the throne.
Maybe she was. Or maybe she was obeying the faerie queen’s command and returning to the Realms.
Without saying goodbye to me?
“She wouldn’t,” I muttered.
“Why not?” Oriana asked. “The fae kept her a prisoner for twelve years. Wouldn’t you want revenge?”
I stared at her for so long that she blinked. “That’s what you’re talking about, right? Rapunzel destroying the Realms?”
“Rapunzel would do no such thing,” Nanny Cresta said sharply. “It would be like trying to destroy the ocean. The Realms are the source of all the magic in the world, and all the wonder, too. It contains beauties that humans could never replicate. Dangerous as it is, we need it to exist. And Rapunzel, of all people, must know that.”
Oriana looked sullen. “But—”
“Aside from that,” Nanny Cresta said, “we couldn’t destroy the Realms. It would swallow our entire army in a blink.”
“But that’s what the Borderland is for,” Oriana protested. “We fight off incursions from the Realms. We hold the fae back so they don’t take over the entire world. If we take the battle to them—”
“Then we’ll lose,” Nanny Cresta said. “And all this planning is easy for you, isn’t it? For us,” she corrected herself, probably because Oriana looked like she was about to cry. “We don’t bear the cost. Rapunzel already sacrificed her entire childhood to the Realms. If she’s going to lead an army against them, she’ll be sacrificing her life!”
Her voice snapped like a twig, and even Oriana had the sense to stop arguing.
Nanny Cresta brought both her hands to her face. For a moment she just stood there, her eyes covered.
Then she lowered her hands and said briskly, “We’ll need to take that gown to the laundry. Put the changing screen back against the wall, pull back the bedsheets, and take those books off the nightstand—”
I made my way to the window while she snapped out instructions. Eventually, she went silent, and I took a deep breath and turned around. “Nanny Cresta—”
But Nanny Cresta was asleep in her chair, her head tilted sideways on her shoulder, her stomach rising and falling with her heavy breaths.
“Don’t wake her,” Oriana said. She was sitting on top of one of my clothes chests, drinking my nutmeg tea—she knew I didn’t like it.
“Of course I won’t.” I drummed my fingers on the sill. “How long have you been in the castle, Oriana?”
“Five years. Why?”
“Just curious. Have any of your friends been around longer? Like, back when Rapunzel was kidnapped?”
Oriana giggled. “None of my friends are that old, Cinna!”
“But you know people who grew up in the castle, don’t you? Surely their parents have told them what happened.”
“There’s nothing much to tell.” Oriana drained the last of the nutmeg tea and put the mug down. “Rapunzel was asleep in her bed, and then she was gone. The window was open, so they knew she had been taken by the fae. Oh, it was a terrible time! Sir Joshan told me that the queen was on the verge of executing the entire castle guard, but she relented and merely sacked them all. One of those men ended up back in Sir Joshan’s home village, and he was the one who first recognized Sir Joshan’s talent. It was at a tournament, and Sir Joshan kept his visor down so no one would know he was a commoner—”
I had heard this story before. Many times. I considered trying to redirect Oriana, but where would I redirect her to? I was wasting my time with all these questions, distracting myself from what I already knew.
“…and everyone was amazed. They couldn’t believe the high champion had been defeated! But Sir Joshan refused to raise his visor, so nobody knew who he was. Then Sir Galid challenged him…”
I turned back to the window and leaned out, brushing a pair of pixies out of my way. I stared past the courtyard and the walls, at the rolling fields and forest and the vast blue sky above them. Finally, I saw a distant dark shape appear on the horizon, approaching the castle in a series of heavy, powerful wing strokes.
I considered letting Oriana know. She would have loved to be one of the first to see Rapunzel return. It would have stopped her talking about Sir Joshan, for a little while at least.
Instead I remained alone at the window, resting my elbows on the sill. The edges of my hair tickled my cheeks as I watched my sister approach the castle.
11
DEAR RAPUNZEL,
I HAD TO WRITE A STORY FOR MY LANGUAGE TUTOR, SO I WROTE ONE ABOUT SAVING YOU. IT WAS REALLY GOOD. I FOUND A CLUE AND STEPPED THROUGH A SECRET PASSAGEWAY INTO THE REALMS, AND THEN THERE WERE FIVE PAGES OF ADVENTURES, AND THEN I FOUND YOU. YOUR HAIR WAS EVEN LONGER THAN MINE. YOU HELPED ME DEFEAT THE EVIL FAERIE QUEEN, AND THEN YOU SAID, “WE ARE SISTERS, AND WE’LL NEVER BE APART AGAIN.”
EVERYONE CHEERED FOR US, AND THEY WERE SORRY FOR HOW MEAN THEY WERE TO ME AFTER THE PURPLE PAINT INCIDENT. KAI SAID HE WAS SORRY FOR HOW HE’S BEEN IGNORING ME LATELY AND ASKED IF I WANT TO PLAY HANDBALL. I TOLD HIM THAT I WAS BUSY WITH MY SISTER AND MAYBE I’D HAVE TIME LATER.
I THOUGHT THE STORY WAS EXCELLENT, BUT MY TUTOR MADE ME WRITE ANOTHER ONE. SHE SAID IT WAS VERY “IMAGINATIVE” (THE WAY SHE SAID IT, IT WAS NOT A COMPLIMENT) BUT THAT SHE WANTED TO SHOW MY WORK TO MOTHER, AND IF MOTHER READ THIS STORY SHE WOULD CRY.
SHE’S A NEW TUTOR, SO SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHY THAT MADE ME LAUGH. I THINK SHE CONSIDERS ME COLD AND HEARTLESS.
ANYHOW, I WROTE A NEW STORY ABOUT A BUTTERFLY THAT LEARNED TO SHARE ITS FLOWERS WITH ANOTHER BUTTERFLY AND SHE REALLY LIKED THAT ONE AND TOOK IT TO SHOW MOTHER. I NEVER HEARD ANY MORE ABOUT IT. I BET THAT’S BECAUSE MOTHER DIDN’T LIKE IT.
SHE WOULD HAVE LIKED THE ONE ABOUT MY RESCUING YOU BETTER.
I DON’T THINK THIS TUTOR IS GOING TO BE HERE VERY LONG.
LOVE,
YOUR SISTER
CINNA
“Well?” Rapunzel said. “Did you like my little show?”
I blinked into alertness. The room was nearly pitch-black, but I heard light footsteps on the floor and the swish of hair: Rapunzel.
I had intended to remain awake until she showed up. But my last memory was of a dragon sitting on the throne, a crown tilted crookedly over one eye, lecturing the court about why they should abolish sidesaddles. So clearly, that had not worked.
I struggled into a sitting position, displacing the pixies that had settled on my shoulders. Their wings fluttered as they dashed away.
“Sorry,” Rapunzel said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Were you having one of your nightmares?”
“No. I’m fine.” I wiped drool off the corner of my mouth. “And your show was certainly new and interesting.”
I winced. That had sounded a lot more debonair in my mind. Luckily, it was too dark for me to make out Rapunzel’s expression, so hopefully she couldn’t see mine (or the color of my hair).
“I’m glad you think so,” Rapunzel said. “I’m afraid our mother doesn’t share your opinion. She used a lot of really big words. What does temerarious mean?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She uses it a lot, though. I don’t think anyone knows what it means. It’s just gotten to the point where it’s too awkward to ask.”
“Too intimidating, you mean.” Rapunzel laughed. “Her hair turned a really interesting shade of maroon. I believe that’s a bad sign.”
“Generally speaking, yes.”
“Well, it took two whole days after getting me back for her to get angry at me. That’s probably longer than anyone expected.” My bed shifted as Rapunzel sat on it. “Sorry for getting here so late. Dragons don’t like to fly in the dark, and Fireball was already exhausted. I had to bribe him shamelessly.” I made out the movement of her hand as she dropped something into my lap. “Here. I picked these when we landed in an orchard.”
My hand closed around the object: an apple. I took a sweet, crunchy bite. “Actually,” I said, “our mother is pretty upset at me right now. And I’m not happy with her, either.”
Rapunzel’s hair brushed my bare feet. “Why? I mean, aside from the obvious reasons.”
I had no idea what the “obvious reasons” were. I hesitated, then went on. “She…she said maybe…” Why did I feel like I was committing a betrayal? My first loyalty was to my sister. It always had been, even back when I wasn’t sure she was still alive. “She might not want you to be queen.”
Rapunzel went still. In the darkness, I couldn’t make out her hair color.
“I told her that was ridiculous, of course.” I leaned forward. “You are our future queen. I would never take your place. I renounce the throne.” I thought briefly of those letters hidden in the fireplace hearth—proof that I was telling the truth. I had dreamed, every time I wrote one, of putting it in my sister’s hands. But in my dreams, my sister read them eagerly, and wept, and I wasn’t quite sure Rapunzel would do that. Maybe she wouldn’t even be interested. “That’s why I cut off my hair. I only want to help you take your place as queen.”
“But I don’t want to be queen,” Rapunzel said. “Haven’t you realized that by now?”
“But—” I stammered. “Today—with the dragon—I thought—”
“That I was announcing my ascension to the throne?” She laughed, as if such a notion was too ridiculous to contemplate. “No, Cinna. I just couldn’t bear the thought of that deadly dull procession, so I decided to liven it up a bit. Give the populace some enjoyment.” The bed creaked as she shifted her weight. “Also, it was a good way to make sure I could fly Fireball for long distances.”
“Fly him for long distances—what long distances? Long distances to where?”
Again, that laugh. “Oh, little sister. The world is a big place. There’s so much more to it than the Realms and the Borderland. I bet there are countries where people don’t think about the fae. Where they don’t even believe they exist. We could go anywhere. The faerie queen’s ultimatum won’t matter if she can’t find me.”
I pressed my back against the headboard. “We?”
“You could come with me.” She leaned closer. My eyes had adjusted slightly, but I still couldn’t make out her expression. “I’d take care of you, Cinna. I never knew what it meant to have a sister, but I—I really like it.”
I knew I should say something back. But after what I had just done for her—defending her right to the throne, defying my mother—it was a bit galling to discover that she didn’t even care.
“Even if people don’t believe the fae exist,” I said, “that doesn’t change the fact that they do. If we don’t stand against them—”
“Then what?” Rapunzel said. “Why do you assume the fae have nothing better to do than conquer the human world? I know you’ve been told that the Realms are a wasteland full of strange and vicious and deadly creatures. And that’s…well, it’s true, but only partly true. The Realms are wilder and more beautiful than you can imagine. Why are you so convinced the fae want to leave? Did you ever consider that maybe if we stopped fighting them, nothing would happen?”
My chest tightened with a sudden panicked doubt. My whole life was based on my duty to guard the fae border. If that wasn’t necessary…
It was necessary. I knew it was. But I couldn’t find the words to argue.
“I couldn’t do that to our mother,” I said instead. “Bad enough that she lost one daughter. You want to take me away from her, too?”
She snorted. “You don’t owe her your life.”
“She’s our mother. We literally owe her our lives.”
Rapunzel waved a hand dismissively.
I cast about for another argument. “What about Sir Joshan? He’s in love with you.”
(Okay, that was a little desperate.)
“Seriously? He barely knows me. And what he does know just frustrates him. He wants me to fall in line and do everything he expected a rescued princess to do.”
