The Fairest of Them All

singing, and I was wondering. Well, I was hoping to find her.” He paused, clearing his throat, looking down shyly and then back up at me. “I have not been able to forget that voice. That song.”

I could feel my face flushing, as I remembered the hunting party passing, the way I’d sung out to them. I’d called him to me, I realized. I’d wanted to know who they were, where they were going; I’d been excited by the violence of the hunt. And here this man was, at my doorstep. My heart raced.

It did not occur to me that he might be feigning his own nervousness in order to woo me.

“Oh, yes,” I said, finally. “I saw the banners, but I couldn’t see your faces. I heard shouts and cries.” I remembered, too, the song I’d been singing when I heard the pounding of the horses’ hooves on the forest floor, how I’d aimed my song at them. Something I’d made up about the sparrows feeding their young. Their hungry mouths, their hungry hearts, the glowing worms they rip apart.

“It was you, wasn’t it? Singing up in that tower? With that glorious hair hanging down?”

The way he said it made me feel as if he’d come upon me bathing naked in the lake. “Yes,” I whispered, touching the cloth covering my hair now.

“Ah, I thought so the moment you opened the door, though you have hidden that hair away. Do you live here alone?”

The flirtatious, almost predatory note in his voice made me remember the stories and the warnings. My body tensed, and for a moment I wondered if he was going to push past me, into the house. Then he smiled, and I realized: I want him to come inside. It was a feeling I’d seen but never experienced, the feeling in those grieving women: I want to be broken.

“No,” I said. “I live here with my mother.”

“She’s a witch, isn’t she?”

“No!” I said. “Of course not.” I knew enough to know that witch was a bad word, a dangerous one, especially with those who came from the kingdom. “At court, a woman can get killed for a word like that,” Mathena had said.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” he said. “I heard stories, when I was inquiring about you.”

“We only heal here, sir, we do not practice bewitching.”

“I might have to argue with that,” he said, raising his eyebrow. I could not help but laugh at the funny expression on his face. “What is your name?”

“Rapunzel.”

“Isn’t that a type of . . . lettuce?”

“Yes,” I said. “Though I’ve never seen it myself.”

Just then, the back door opened and Mathena stepped into the room, her hands dirt-covered from the gardening, her dark hair damp with sweat. The sight of the man visibly upset her; I watched shock, then fear, pass over her face.

“Your Highness!” she said, falling into a curtsy. Brune left my shoulder for hers, her wings spanning out in warning.

I looked from Mathena to the man and back again, confused by her reaction.

Mathena rushed forward, causing Brune to fuss, and put her arm around my waist. “Excuse her, sire, she is just a country girl and does not know the royal manners.”

“Oh, I am not yet a king, madame,” he said, causing a blush to rise from Mathena’s chest to her cheeks. “I am still subject to the rule of my father, as we all are.”

I breathed in with surprise, and attempted to curtsy as Mathena had done.

“Of course,” Mathena said, stepping in front of me. “It has been so long since I’ve been at court, I forget the proper addresses.” She curtsied again. “I am Madame Mathena Gothel, and this is my daughter Rapunzel.”

He bowed to us both. “Enchanted,” he said. “And I am Prince Josef. You have a fine falcon, I see.”

“Thank you,” she said. She reached out her hand behind her, as if to make sure I was still there. To keep me there.

“My father is quite a passionate falconer,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, and now her voice was hard, cold, “and a very fine one at that.”

I began to feel dizzy. Not only because of Mathena’s behavior and the fact that there was a handsome prince standing before us, but because I had called him to me, using my own magic. I was sure of it.

“This is a charming house,” he continued. “I sometimes wonder what other kind of life I might have had, in a place like this, for instance.”

“I assure you it is much less exciting than your life in the palace. You would be quite bored here in the forest.”

I watched this exchange with fascination. I’d never seen Mathena speak the way she was speaking now, or stand the way she was standing, with her spine straight, her shoulders back, her chin lifted. She seemed years younger, suddenly. I knew that she’d spent time at court as a young woman and was versed in the royal decorum, but she seemed more defensive than courtly. Her body had become a fortress holding me back, as if her arms had grown and were stretching out from wall to wall. She was doing everything she could to make me disappear behind her, much as I was trying to stay in his line of vision, and keep him in mine. Who knew when I would next see a man this close, let alone a prince?

“Perhaps,” he said, ignoring her clipped tone, “if I did not have such delightful company. But if the lovely Rapunzel has not been to court, maybe it’s time to bring her? The harvest ball will be taking place on the night of the equinox. I do hope she would like to attend.”

I was equal parts astonished and delighted. A ball! Visions flashed before my eyes. Men and women twirling across a marble floor. And a palace—a place full of sunlight and diamonds and a richness I couldn’t quite visualize but knew I craved. A blurred, bright idea, like a child’s image of heaven.

“That is a generous offer,” Mathena said, yet it was clear from her voice that she did not find it kind at all. She was usually not so rude, and I bristled with embarrassment. Of course, she was not usually addressing princes. Brune didn’t help matters, jutting her beak forward and staring at him threateningly from Mathena’s shoulder.

“Yes, thank you,” I said. I craned my neck around Mathena and tried to look my most alluring. I reached up nonchalantly to move the cloth back so that he could see a swath of golden hair.

“You’re both invited,” he said. “And I hope you will each do me the honor of saving a dance.”

“We’ll try to attend,” Mathena said, “though the harvest here promises to be very demanding.”

He took Mathena’s hand to kiss it, and then somehow managed to angle past her and take mine, which I extended to him. The moment he touched me, I felt it through my whole body, shooting out as if he had fire burning in his palms.

“I look forward to seeing you again,” he said, looking straight into my eyes before turning back to Mathena. “It will be my pleasure.”

“You’re very kind,” Mathena said, with the same sharp edge in her voice. He took a step back. I wanted to pinch her, force her to invite him in for tea.

“Well, thank you,” he said. “I am pleased to have made your acquaintance.”

He bowed to us, put his cap back on, and turned. I watched him walk to a black horse draped in a velvet and silver harness, tied to a tree. Within seconds he was gone.

For a moment, I was not sure if it had even happened at all, or if I’d dreamed it. The woods sounded just the same as always: the birds in the trees, the leaves rustling, dropping to the ground.

And yet, everything was different. Just minutes ago, the room had seemed so calm, with its crackling fire and dirt, its rug-covered floors, the simple tapestries on the walls. Now, suddenly, it felt like the loneliest place on earth.

I turned to Mathena. She was trembling—with rage, or fear, or sorrow, I could not tell. Brune was leaning into her, as if to offer comfort.

“You cannot go, Rapunzel,” she said, before I could speak.

“What?”

“You must forget this ever happened.”

I stared at her. “But . . . why?”

With a small flick of her wrist, she returned Brune to her mantel. The bird stared down at us disapprovingly, then turned away. Mathena took my hands in hers and led me to where Loup was still sleeping on the couch. “Sit,