The Witch's Daughter Read online

  “Reagan,” she called out, “come into the kitchen and help me.” I scurried away, leaving Rapunzel and Byron behind, my mind awhirl.

  I did not mention what Byron had said to my mother that night, or the next morning when she took him away, probably to some meeting point where he was exchanged for the ransom money. When she returned, she carried with her several bags of gold, a diamond tiara, a full set of chain mail armor (I could not see what use she had for this), and a beautifully decorated golden shield. It was ridiculous, as shields went, since gold is a soft metal and cannot be used to make weapons, but I did not comment. I also did not ask her where the new presents had come from. I really did not want to know the details.

  …

  Chapter Four:

  My mother’s relationship with Rapunzel was different than mine. She took great pride in Rapunzel’s accomplishments as I did, and she praised Rapunzel’s beauty and kindness, but there was a certain strangeness to her affection that I could not quite place. Rapunzel did not call her mother, but addressed her by her name, Mogra, which means ‘wise one’ in the old language, although it was always delivered with affection and respect. It was not until Rapunzel was twelve and I was seventeen that I finally understood what it was.

  We were searching the forest for Sing, who had grown into a sleek, well-fed cat over the years, and had given birth to several litters of her own since she had reached adulthood. Diath was still very much alive, as she was bonded to my mother, and could not die until my mother did. Sing, however, was a perfectly ordinary housecat, and she had a special affection for Rapunzel, who doted on her pet almost as much as I doted on her.

  It was autumn again, and the trees of the forest were starting to shed their leaves, although everything in my mother’s garden followed different seasons entirely. You might find a blossoming apple tree in one corner and another ripe with fruit just beside it. Rapunzel loved autumn. She adored the colors of the falling leaves and she loved to play in them with Sing.

  “See how the maple leaves look like giant brown hands,” she said to me that evening, pointing at a fresh pile of brown leaves below a tall maple tree.

  “They are giants’ hands, reaching out to grab you,” I teased, coming up behind her and tickling her sides. She squealed with pleasure and wriggled to get out of my arms, but I held her fast until she stilled. I pulled her close for a moment, and then let her go. Over the past year, my feelings for Rapunzel had been changing and I still wasn’t sure what to make of them. “Here,” I said, “you look for Sing along that way and I will go the other way. We will find her faster. I will meet you back by the maple tree at sunset.”

  I was not afraid of letting Rapunzel wander off on her own because I had taught her the ways of the forest. Nothing that dwelled there would harm her and I would be nearby if she ran into trouble. Besides, she was getting old enough to take care of herself. “All right, Ailynn,” Rapunzel said cheerfully, grabbing my hand and standing on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. I felt my face flush with heat, and I was glad when Rapunzel scurried off to look for Sing without noticing.

  I spent the next few minutes looking for Sing, but I didn’t find her. I was peering up into the branches of a slender ash tree when I heard a scream. My heart stopped as I realized that it had to be Rapunzel. Who else would dare travel the forest this close to sunset? I ran in the direction of the sound, thankful that I knew the forest floor well enough to traverse it in the near dark without falling. Rapunzel screamed again, and I adjusted my course, my feet pounding in time to my racing heartbeat. My body felt no pain, and my mind was completely blank except for fear, the fear that I would lose her, the fear that something might have happened to her…

  After an eternity, I rushed into a small glade. The hulking back of a man rose above me, and I caught a glimpse of golden hair over his shoulder. The man was as large as a bear, and looked to be about as strong as one. But he was distracted with Rapunzel, whom he was holding by the throat, leering down at her with yellow, uneven teeth. I drew the knife that I used to cut plants from my belt, lifted it, and rammed it into his back.

  I had enough sense to hold onto the handle of the blade and pull it from his flesh before the man moved. He dropped Rapunzel and twisted wildly in the air, nearly falling over himself and clutching at his back. Instinctively, I raised my fingers and said a Word of Power. The man screamed again, toppling to the ground and writhing over the bloodstained leaves.

  I grabbed Rapunzel with my free hand and hoisted her to her feet, clutching her arm and dragging her away through the trees. The screams of the man echoed behind us through the trees for several hundred yards until we were well away. Neither of us stopped running until we reached my mother’s house.

  “What happened?” my mother asked as we stumbled in through the door. “Ailynn, you have blood on your hands, and Rapunzel, your dress is torn…”

  I nearly wept when I saw my Rapunzel clutching what was left of her dress together. It had been ripped down the front. “I don’t understand,” she cried, hurrying into my arms, “what happened? What happened? Why did he…”

  “Hush, dear heart,” I cooed, rocking her against my chest. “You are safe.”

  My mother instantly realized what had almost happened. “Did you get there in time?” she asked coldly, staring out of the window.

  “Yes, mother,” I said, still holding Rapunzel tight and letting her cry into my shoulder. I stroked her tangled curls, trying to calm her down.

  My mother’s next question made my body ripple with fear. “Did you finish him?”

  “No,” I said. “I stabbed him, and used a Word of Power, but he is not dead yet.”

  “Put Rapunzel to bed. Don’t let her out of your sight.” My mother stormed out of the back door, not even bothering to grab a cloak. I knew what she was going to do. Part of me was fiercely glad. Anyone that would dare attack a twelve-year-old girl deserved death. Another part of me, though, felt sickened by the whole thing. My mother was going to take someone’s life away, and that was something I couldn’t quite stomach.

  I scooped Rapunzel into my arms and carried her to our bedroom. Sing, who had found her way back home, uncurled from the foot of the bed and made room for the two of us. I set Rapunzel down gently on top of the sheets and left her there, still weeping silently, while I hurried to the dresser to find her a fresh nightgown. Lifelessly, she let me strip the torn dress off of her and slip the nightgown over her head. Then, with Sing in her arms and both of them in mine, Rapunzel drifted off to sleep while I waited for mother to return.

  She was gone all through the night and did not return until high noon the next morning. Rapunzel was still resting and I had stayed awake guarding her. Strangely, I did not feel tired. My thoughts stirred restlessly, denying me any sort of peace. I had almost let that man hurt Rapunzel. I had protected her ever since she was a baby and now I had finally failed her.

  “Ailynn,” my mother whispered, opening our door a crack and peering in at us. “Is she all right?”

  “Still sleeping,” I said, automatically looking down at the precious girl in my arms to make sure that she was well.

  “Come with me.” Torn, I slowly unwove my arms from around Rapunzel’s thin body and bent down to kiss her golden hair before leaving her to rest with Sing. Her curls had grown to her calves during the night, as I had not bothered to cut them the evening before. The cat opened one eye to watch me as I stood, but didn’t move. I crept towards my mother on silent feet, slipping into the next room without moving the door so that the hinges wouldn’t creak and disturb Rapunzel.

  My mother hurried me over to the kitchen table, forcing me to sit. I wilted against the back of my chair, completely drained of energy but too afraid to go to sleep. I heard my mother preparing something behind me, and a few minutes later, she set a warm mug of tea in front of me. “Mother…”

  “Drink your tea, Ailynn, and listen to me.” I lifted the tea to my lips, both of my hands trembling with fatigue and fear. I w
as too exhausted to protest. The warm drink was strong, and it wasn’t one of my mother’s usual brews. Immediately, I felt my body tingle with warmth, and some of the tiredness left me.

  “I took care of the man that tried to rape Rapunzel,” my mother said. We had our backs to each other while she fixed herself a cup of the tea that she had made. “He will not bother anyone again, but that won’t stop others from trying. Rapunzel is a beautiful woman.”

  “She is only twelve. She’s still a child…”

  “Twelve is not a child, Ailynn. At eleven, you had already memorized all of the antidotes for the poisons in my garden. Rapunzel cannot defend herself as you can. She does not know Words of Power or magic.”

  “I do, I can protect her…”

  “Like you did today?” my mother snapped, stalking over to the chair opposite me and slamming her mug down onto the table. “You did well in saving Rapunzel, but how many more times can you expect to escape without a scratch?”

  “Then what do you suggest we do?”

  “I have called in several old debts. A tower will be built about half an hour’s walk from the house.”

  “For what?” I asked, still blind to my mother’s purpose. She took a sip of tea and sighed, resting one elbow on top of the table. I brushed my curls away from my face, waiting for her to explain.

  “For Rapunzel’s protection. The tower will have no doors or stairs and only one window.”

  “If there are no doors or stairs, how will she get in or out?”

  “She will stay there and let down her hair to us so that we can climb up to the window.”

  I leapt to my feet, sending my chair crashing to the floor. “What?” I roared, forgetting that Rapunzel was asleep in the next room. “You would keep her locked up like one of your pretty treasures?” I shook with rage, listening to my own words echo in my head. That was when I understood. My mother loved Rapunzel, but not as I did. The motherly part of her saw Rapunzel as a person, but the greedy part of her saw only another bauble, a fetching toy that she had to hide lest someone steal it.

  “I will not let you do it.”

  “And risk her life?

  “Rapunzel is a girl, mother,” I said, lowering my voice slightly. “You cannot lock a human away inside of a tower for the rest of their life… you cannot hide her from the world.”

  “What other choice do we have, Ailynn?” my mother snapped, clearly too unbalanced by fear to see reason. “I will not see her hurt in any way. Look at what almost happened! If you hadn’t been there to save her…”

  “Very well,” I said, kneeling to right my fallen chair and sinking into it wearily. I took another sip of tea, closing my eyes as the warm brew curled around my tongue and slid down my throat. I would not be able to talk my mother out of it. The tower would do to protect Rapunzel until I could find another way to keep her safe. Then, I would set her free.

  …

  Chapter Five:

  My mother left me to watch Rapunzel while she went to supervise the building for a few hours each day, and it was the only time that both of us were not with her. Rapunzel had not complained; on the contrary, she seemed glad of the extra protection. Even though my own emotions were muddled and unclear, I tried to be a steady source of comfort for her, holding her more than usual and letting her fall asleep with her head in my lap.

  All of us spent much of our time in introspection, our eyes darting about the rooms of our cottage with an unfocused glaze to them. None of us seemed to be in the here-and-now. While my mother brooded and paced around us like a lioness guarding her kill, I stared at blank spaces on the wall and wondered why our peaceful routine had been so harshly interrupted. Rapunzel seemed especially distant, and the fear emanating from her thin frame was almost palpable.

  I had not cut her hair since construction on the tower had started, and when Rapunzel asked about it the first day, I told her that mother and I would explain in a few weeks. I still hated the idea of imprisoning my innocent Rapunzel at the top of a tower, but I couldn’t think of another solution my mother would accept. Her extreme paranoia was growing worse, and she double-checked all of the doors at least once an hour to make sure that no one was outside.

  Rapunzel had changed, too. The beautiful, laughing child full of questions and stories had faded into a shadow of herself and all of her smiles had disappeared. She spent most of her time crying, and patches of my clothes were soaked with her tears more often than not. As well read as she was, Rapunzel did not fully understand why the man had attacked her, and I was thankful that she did not ask any questions. I was not sure if I would be able to explain it to her.

  I told Rapunzel many stories during those long days, and though she was only listening with half an ear most of the time, I knew that the sound of my voice soothed her a little. Sing, keen enough to sense that something was very wrong, stayed close to her mistress at all hours, tailing her like a faithful dog as she wandered from room to room and curling up with us as we sat in front of the fire while my mother watched from her high-backed chair.

  The tower was built at a surprisingly rapid pace, and after only two tedious weeks, the last of the stones had been stacked at the top. My mother took me to see it one night, casting several charms about the house to keep out any intruders. It was the first time that we had left Rapunzel alone since her attack and both of us were wary, but my mother felt the need to show me the tower.

  Reluctantly, I followed my mother out of the house and into the nighttime forest. It was well past sunset, and only hints of silvery moonlight managed to penetrate the thick canopy of autumn leaves that had not yet fallen to the ground. Soon, except for the regal pines, all of these trees would be stripped bare for the winter. My heart ached at the thought of how desolate the forest always looked in winter, even when it was covered in a clean, crisp blanket of white snow. I lived for green things and the earth.

  Insects buzzed from their hiding places in the tree branches, and the other night sounds almost covered our soft footfalls as we trod silently over the leaves that covered the ground, which was still wet from an early afternoon storm. Finally, we reached a very small clearing in the forest surrounded by young ash trees with thin branches. Rising through the middle of the trees was a tower, its stones cracked and covered with ivy and creeper.

  “You aged it?” I asked, lifting my eyes to the high window near the top of the tower.

  “It looked strange with fresh-cut stones,” my mother said, following my gaze. “A new tower in an ancient forest would be too noticeable.”

  “The ash trees,” I said, gesturing around, “you chose them because the branches are too slender to hold a man’s weight.”

  My mother nodded her approval, following my gaze up the trunks of the thin ash trees that surrounded the tower. “No human can climb to the top of the tower unless Rapunzel lowers her hair. The cat should be able to come and go as she pleases, though. It will be good for Rapunzel to have some company while we are at home.”

  “Then let her stay with us,” I pleaded, trying one last time to sway her. “It is foolish to lock a child in a tower.”

  “Not foolish, cautious. She will come to no harm this way.”

  “She will waste away up there, mother; treated like a prisoner, and for what? She has done nothing wrong.”

  “Would you rather see her raped, perhaps murdered? That is the fate beauty comes to in the world. Unless it is guarded, it will be destroyed.”

  I held my eyes shut, my fingernails digging viciously into my palms, keeping a well-practiced blank expression on my face. I felt anger twist in my belly like a keen knife and I pressed my lips together, seething inwardly until the edge of my rage had dulled. “There is a hook at the top of the tower for Rapunzel to wrap her hair around,” my mother continued. “Then, we can use it as a rope. How long is her hair now?”

  “Perhaps twice her height, maybe more,” I said darkly. “I have been washing and braiding it every day.”

  “Good,” said
my mother. “We will have to take care of her beautiful hair if we want to visit her.”

  “How will you get her into the tower?”

  “There are footholds carved into the rock,” my mother explained, pulling aside a patch of creeper to show me. As she said, there were several stone pegs on the side of the tower. There were two rows, and the pegs were a comfortable reaching distance apart. “I will get rid of them as soon as she’s up there, of course. Then, no one will be able to climb up.”

  I did not mention that Rapunzel could easily be tricked into letting down her hair for a stranger. My mother’s logic was deteriorating, and I was growing fearful. “The hair will do,” I said. Without a word, I turned and started back through the trees, not wanting to look at the tower any longer. I had seen enough.

  That was the moment that part of me started hating my mother. I had never experienced hate as a child – Rapunzel and my mother were the only humans that I had ever known and they did little to anger me. The emotion growing in me was new and frightening, not just the mere restlessness of an adolescent challenging her parent. My mother was threatening my dearest treasure, and even our shared blood could not make me forgive her. I never stopped loving my mother, some caring feelings remained even until the end, but I never stopped hating her, either.

  …

  Rapunzel stirred as I sank back onto our bed, clutching at the sheets in her sleep. She tossed her head, her long braids curving through the folds in the covers like winding golden rivers. I stroked her cheek with the back of my hand and marveled at how frail she looked in her white nightgown. Her eyelids fluttered, and she parted her lips slightly as she gazed up into my face. “Ailynn?”

  “Sleep, dear heart,” I whispered, feeling guilty that I had awoken her.

  “Where were you?” she breathed sleepily, her arms circling around me so that I would not leave her alone in bed again. I was surprised that Rapunzel had managed to rest without me at all. We had been bed partners for over ten years; she had started sleeping with me as soon as she had outgrown her crib. Usually, she would not fall asleep unless I was beside her.