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  Weave:

  Rapunzel Retold

  Demelza Carlton

  A tale from the Romance a Medieval Fairytale series

  A stolen child. A knight in search of salvation. Only one can weave a new destiny.

  Once upon a time...

  Raised in the royal court, Isaak spent years training as a knight and waiting for the opportunity to win back the Rumpelstiltskin lands after his father lost them by betraying the King. Finally, the Queen gives him his chance – all he has to do is find the lost princess, her firstborn, taken by a witch twenty years ago. Only to discover that he's inherited his father's curse, and his days are numbered.

  For as long as she can remember, Rapunzel has lived in the tower, weaving spells for the witch who claims to be her fairy godmother. But the older she gets, and the more she learns about the world outside, the more she suspects her godmother is keeping secrets – not just about her, but a plot that could change the balance of power in the world as they know it.

  Can Isaak and Rapunzel break the curse, save the world and find their happily ever after?

  COPYRIGHT

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2022 Demelza Carlton

  Lost Plot Press

  All rights reserved.

  Click here to get started – https://demelzacarlton.com/readerquiz/

  ONE

  Some kings were as immovable as granite. Others appeared as firm as permafrost, but melted at the first breath of spring breeze, hinting at the good fortune to come. And some drooled like hunting hounds at the slightest whiff of scraps from her table.

  King Thorn was definitely a dog. So gullibly parted from his gold, Kun almost felt guilty about it. Almost.

  So when he sent word that he wished an audience with Mistress Kun, she did not make him wait long. She waited until he was seated on his throne before the court, and cast a portal right in the middle of his great hall. No one could say she didn't make an entrance.

  Gasps and screams greeted her. Even Thorn himself rose from his seat with fear on his face, if only for a moment, before he remembered he had an audience. Then he was every inch the king again.

  Kun swirled her cape about her. She quite liked this one – black with several layers to it, so it looked like a flock of ravens taking flight when she tossed it just right. Rapunzel had outdone herself on it.

  "You wanted a witch, Your Majesty?" she asked, not bothering to bow. She'd only ever bowed to one king, and she would never do so again.

  "You!"

  She could hear the courtiers behind her, muttering and murmuring, but she paid them no attention. The only words she cared to hear were the ones where Thorn told her what he wanted, so that she might name her price. So she stayed silent, and waited. The eager hound had never practiced patience.

  "Did you not promise me that the merchant's daughter, Lady Zuleika, would give me an heir to the throne?" Thorn thundered.

  "Indeed I did." It was the easiest gold she'd ever made, for she'd already known the girl was pregnant. Her son was on Beacon Isle even now, thriving.

  "So before all my court, tell me...where is my heir?"

  She folded her arms across her chest. "On Beacon Isle, with his mother, of course. The safest place in the kingdom to keep a crown prince."

  More gasps from the crowd. Ah, they had not known about the child, either. Well, it was no secret that Thorn was not on good terms with his brother, the Master of Beacon Isle. But not to know that Vardan and his wife had borne a son...

  "You lie!" Thorn roared.

  "You have only to go to Beacon Isle yourself to see the child, if you do not believe me. For the next King of Aros is there, though he is still but a babe." Kun fixed her gaze on the king. "Surely you do not fear the Master of Beacon Isle, Your Majesty. He is, after all, your brother. I'm sure he would welcome you with open arms."

  Well, perhaps he would, if there wasn't the matter of that cursed mirror, and the things Thorn had done to Vardan's wife...

  Who had been terribly clever with her revenge, to Kun's chagrin. If Zuleika had actually cursed King Thorn instead of casting a curse that only activated if he harmed her, and actually warning him about it...no, Kun could not blame the girl for Thorn's fate. But if she had...then Kun would have been justified in binding the young enchantress as a djinn. With both Zuleika and Rapunzel, no one would have been able to stand against her and her mission.

  Even if she'd still had Briska, it would have been better, but that damned genie had managed to free himself from the lamp and steal Briska from her, too.

  But instead of thinking about all those other people who might have been there to help her, Kun should have been listening to Thorn.

  "I declare you guilty, traitor, and your sentence is death!" Thorn announced.

  Wait...what?

  Thorn drew his sword. "Kneel, traitor."

  "Oh, you can't be serious," Kun said, and turned on her heel to leave.

  She bit her thumb, using the blood to draw a circle in the air until a portal appeared.

  Searing pain lanced through her chest.

  Kun blinked. Was that a sword in front of her? That couldn't be right. It was all bloody, like it had gone right through...right through...

  She tumbled through the portal, sliding off the blade, barely feeling when her unconscious body hit the flagstones.

  "Mother! Mother!" Rapunzel screamed.

  Through the portal, she could still see the triumphant king, standing with his bloodied sword.

  "You don't deserve that crown, Thorn," Rapunzel spat before the portal closed.

  Then she did her best to make her unconscious godmother comfortable as she took her final, bubbling breath.

  TWO

  Isaak stood on the riverbank, dwarfed by the enormous waterwheel that stood unusually still. "You summoned me, Your Majesty?"

  Rosaline had told him that most queens spent their days sewing or weaving in their chambers, only occasionally riding out for hawking or hunting if they fancied such sports. But Queen Molina was not most queens, as she sloshed through the hip-deep water in the millrace, with her skirts kilted up past her knees.

  "You're a Master Artificer now. You and Romein. What do you make of this mill wheel? Can you tell me why it has stopped?" she asked.

  Isaak tugged off his boots and jumped into the millrace beside his queen, careful not to splash her. "The water flow is not enough to make it turn. The water levels are too low, and the wheel is large and heavy. Perhaps when the autumn rains begin, and the water levels in the river rise, the wheel will turn again."

  Queen Molina nodded. "If we could but wait for summer's sluggish flows to speed up in autumn, your reasoning would be sound. But this is the city's water supply, and the canals cannot run dry. The wheel must turn, and water must flow. How would you harness the sluggish summertime river to serve the city's needs?"

  Isaak considered for a moment. "Perhaps a smaller wheel..." He shook his head. "It is this wheel that must turn, to supply the city. So a smaller wheel in its place would not do. But an additional small wheel, one which will turn in the summer current, yet big enough to fill the millrace so that the larger wheel might turn..."

  Molina clapped her hands. "And this is why I tell Lubos I need more apprentices! I cannot do everything, or even think of everything, and the more bright minds we have in the kingdom, the more they can learn, and take it out to the rest of the country...and beyond!'

  Isaak's ears pricked up. "You would have me undertake a quest for you, Your Majesty?"

  Molina sighed. "If I had my way, I would send you to take up your father's lands, to rule them as he did before he turned traitor. The steward does a fine job of sending in the tithes, but he will hear none of my plans for waterwheels at Burg Rumpelstiltskin. Yet the river there is perfect year round – you could have wheels on both sides of the castle, and run more than one mill! And yet..." She clenched her calloused hands into fists. "The world changes every day, and only fools delude themselves that things can stay the same. Today, you are young and strong with the kind of cleverness our kingdom sorely needs. Yet tomorrow, you might succumb to your father's curse."

  Isaak closed his eyes. He'd heard the story a thousand times, so it should have lost the ability to frighten him, yet it still sent a chill through his heart.

  "Yes, my queen. Tomorrow, I may wake up and ever
ything I touch turns to gold, and on that day, I will have only a year left to live. If I inherited my father's curse, which you told me he insisted only you could save me from. And you have saved me. I have been a ward of the crown ever since the king's father died, and my father disappeared. Is it not too much to hope for that you have saved me from my father's fate as well?" Isaak asked.

  Molina sighed again. She did not share his hope. "Come to my bower. I have something to show you. Something I should have given you years ago, but...Lubos said you were too young. But now you are a man grown, you deserve to choose your own path. Wherever it may lead."

  She led the way across the bailey and into the castle, heedless of the water dripping from her skirts along the flagstones. "Send for some ale from the kitchens while I change out of my wet things," she commanded, bounding up the stairs to her tower.

  Isaak could do little more than obey, sending a flurry of panic through the kitchen maids, before one of the cooks assured him the Queen would have what she wanted.

  Isaak exchanged a rueful grin with the cook. They both knew if the Queen did not get what she wanted, she was not above venturing into the kitchen herself in pursuit of it.

  He counted to a hundred, then did it again, before he ascended the stairs to the Queen's bower. She'd changed from a wet gown to a dry one, though it could have been the same one, for it looked exactly the same. The Queen owned grand gowns, but she rarely wore them.

  She thumped a small chest on the table, wiping the dust away with her sleeve. "Your uncle left this for you, when he entrusted you to our care."

  "My uncle?" This was part of the story he had not heard.

  "When your father disappeared, your mother's brother, a knight named Sir Chase, came to court, carrying you and a small sack of belongings. I put them in here for safekeeping, and here they have stayed until now." She beckoned him forward. "Open it."

  Isaak reached out and flipped open the lid. Most of the space inside was taken up by a bundled sack. When he upended it on the table, a curious collection of things fell out.

  A pair of black boots, so dark they seemed to drink the light from the gold coin sparkling beside them. And a pair of golden brown, fur lined gloves. The boots and the gloves looked worn, like they had been well used.

  "They all belonged to your father, or so Sir Chase said. I remember the gloves, and the boots. He would tap his toe three times, and then a hole would open up in the wall or the floor or wherever he wanted it to, and he could walk right through. Wherever the king imprisoned me, he could not keep Abraham out."

  "You knew him? You knew my father?" Isaak burst out.

  The Queen smiled sadly. "If it were not for your father, I would have died at the mad king's hands. He didn't save me out of kindness, though. He believed I held the key to breaking his family curse. He wanted me to save you. It was all he could talk about, no matter how many times I told him I knew nothing of curses or breaking them. It wasn't until the end neared that we both realised the prophecy he'd been given was not about me at all, but about the child I was carrying. The lost princess."

  "The princess who disappeared on the same day as the old king," Isaak said, nodding.

  If anything, her smile turned pitying. "That is the story we told the kingdom, when we asked them to look for her. Even offered a reward, though it has never been claimed. No, and this is something I have never told a soul, and nor must you. The king – King Lubos, my good husband – gave the girl to a witch to protect her from your father. Where the witch took her, I know not...but I know in my very bones that if anyone can cure you and your family of this curse, it is my lost daughter. Which is why I must ask you to find her."

  The Queen laid a silver amulet on the table, topped with a milky white stone. "This is a magic amulet, enchanted to help you find your heart's desire. It warms in your hand when you are on the right path, and cools when you are not. I bought it many years ago, intending to use it to find her myself, but...there is always so much work to do, no matter how many apprentices I have, that I fear I may never get the chance to leave the city, let alone try to search for her. Which is why I must send you. If you bring me back my daughter, she will cure you of your curse, and I will grant you your father's castle and lands. You will be a baron in your own right."

  Isaak's hand itched to grab the amulet, but he resisted. "What do the gloves do? And the coin?" he asked instead.

  The Queen stared at them. "Sir Chase said the gloves are enchanted to resist the curse. When Abraham wore them, he could touch things without turning them into gold. When he took them off, touching things with his bare hands, then everything he touched turned gold."

  "And the coin?"

  She just shook her head. "I do not know. Only that it belonged to your father, and your uncle wanted you to have it. Perhaps if it has magical properties, they will reveal themselves to you, for neither I nor any witch I have met could find anything enchanted about it."

  Isaak packed the boots, the gloves, the amulet and the coin into the sack, then threw it over his shoulder. "When do I leave?" he asked.

  "As soon as Romein departs for his mill in the lowlands," the Queen said. "You will leave the city together, and part ways when the amulet draws you in a different direction. You may take any supplies you need from the armoury or the kitchens, and one of my palfreys from the stables. Heaven knows I have little need of them. Just bring my lost daughter home to me, Isaak. That is all I ask."

  Isaak bowed. "As Your Majesty commands."

  THREE

  "He must die a slow, painful death. Promise me, Rapunzel. As much pain as possible, for as long as possible," Kun rasped, clutching Rapunzel's shoulder. "Promise me!"

  Rapunzel wanted to tell her to save her breath, but she knew Kun would not let this slight against her stand. Even with her dying breath. "Yes, Mother. A prolonged, painful death. I promise."

  Only then did Kun subside.

  Rapunzel waited until her chest did not rise again, then pushed a pillow beneath her godmother's head. There was little she could do for her now, except begin fulfilling her promise.

  So she headed upstairs to her workroom, where her loom waited.

  As she ascended the stairs, she let her mind sift through the possibilities. For as long as she could remember, she'd been able to access not only her own memories, but those of all the witches and enchantresses who'd come before her. Hundreds of women who had witnessed countless atrocities, cast all manner of spells, for both good and ill, whose combined experience would surely contain the perfect fate for treacherous King Thorn.

  By the time she reached the top of the tower, she was torn between disembowelment and being burned alive.

  Yet when she reached her workroom, she remembered that for all his faults, King Thorn was still the king of Aros, and he had no children of his own. His only heir was Prince Vardan and Princess Zuleika's newborn son, who was far too young to rule in his uncle Thorn's place. A regent would be required – one who could rule the prosperous kingdom of Aros for the next twenty years. Whereas Thorn, for all his personal faults, did have one redeeming feature – he was a capable ruler, who took pride in his country's prosperity.

  So if Thorn was to die a slow and painful death, for the good of his kingdom, his pain must be prolonged for a good twenty years.

  Not disembowelment, then. But if he somehow survived the burning...

  Rheumatismus, her memories whispered. A word she did not know, but her memories most certainly did. It was a condition that did not kill a man, but made his joints swell, causing him a great deal of pain. Pain that would slowly incapacitate him over time, and would also twist his hands so that he could no longer hold a sword to stab anyone in the back.

  It was a fitting future for King Thorn, who had caused so much pain in his life.

  Rapunzel set her loom against the wall, then began to unbraid her hair. Once the dark locks reached the floor, she reached for the shears, and snipped off a thick strand. Then she began attaching the hairs to her loom as warp threads.

  When she was done, she opened her basket of silks, in every colour of the rainbow and more besides. Rapunzel might not live in a royal castle, but Kun did not stint her for materials when it came to her weaving. Kun knew the magic Rapunzel's loom could create.