Rescuing Rapunzel Read online

  Cover Copy

  Getting Rapunzel out the tower is only half the problem...

  Rapunzel longs to live in the world she sees through her window, but more than her tower keeps her trapped. Her mother has taught her obedience without question and filled her with fear. She knows she will never reach the ground. Then Lord Nicolas von Hohburg scales her wall, breaks into her life, and changes everything.

  Nick has resigned himself to a life of duty when Rapunzel’s song calls him to her tower. Soon she has his heart wrapped in her lengthy tresses and he can think of nothing else. But his responsibilities and sense of duty threaten to come between them...

  Warning: A scheming witch, a damsel in distress and a Charming Noble who just might save the day.

  Teaser

  He had come back.

  He was not a figment of my imagination. He existed, and he was here.

  I put my hand over my mouth. In one moment, I wanted to cry out, to sing in joy, because he was real. In the next, I was utterly terrified of him, for I knew not what brought him here. I wanted him to go away. I wanted him to stay as he was, wanted to make out every line, work out every detail of him.

  He did not move at first, then pushed back the hood of his riding cloak and there was moonlight enough to see his face. To gleam off the line of his jaw. To frame the width of his shoulders. The cloak blew against him in the breeze, swirling around him as if it wanted to touch him.

  In a word, he was magnificent.

  He raised his arm in a wave. Before I could think about what I did, I waved back. I could not help a burst of laughter. He really did exist. He really did.

  With a thud, my chamber door slammed open and Mother came in. “Rapunzel, what is all this noise?”

  Rescuing Rapunzel

  By Candice Gilmer

  Rescuing Rapunzel

  9781616503710

  Copyright © 2012, Candice Gilmer

  Edited by Danielle Fine

  Book design by Lyrical Press, Inc.

  Cover Art by Renee Rocco

  First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: April, 2012

  Lyrical Press, Incorporated

  http://www.lyricalpress.com

  eBooks are not transferable. All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  PUBLISHER'S NOTE:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated

  Dedication

  To my daughter Chrysalis. You wanted me to write a new version of Rapunzel and I hope you like how I did it (when you are old enough to read it).

  Acknowledgements

  First of all, I would like to thank Michelle Pillow for encouraging me to do this project, and no, I still have not hit my 100 pages a week goal. A.E. Rought, your constant support and love kept me going, thank you sister! For Kim and Karyn, who always think to ask how the writing is going, and understanding when I hide in my hole and do nothing but write. For Renee for the amazing cover, and Bob for always taking care of the kids while I am writing. And last, but certainly not least, Dani, for helping me make this book a much better story. Thank you all, I couldn’t have done it without you.

  Prelude

  In the kingdom of the White Mountains, where war for a generation brought family against family and provinces were irrevocably split, three young men were born to a life of privilege and responsibility.

  Lord Nicolas von Hohburg, eldest son of Duke von Hohburg, was the first and oldest of the boys, but only by a few months. Next in line was Lord Penn von Eisenburg, who became Earl von Eisenburg at fourteen when his father died. Last was Count Bryan von Thalunburg, a second son to Duke von un du Thalunburg, bestowed with a title simply because the duke had many.

  The three young men were raised together, spent days and nights deepening a bond that stemmed from the closeness of their fathers, who had fought in the Great Wars together. They fished the streams around their estates, hunted the wild boars that ran through the Black Forest and constantly challenged one another in archery. They learned to trust each other with their lives, and grew strong and handsome.

  They were called the Charming Nobles, not only because they could charm any female into doing their bidding–which they could–but because they were born to the right lineage. While not the only eligible bachelors in the White Mountains, they were certainly the most sought after.

  Many young noble ladies wished to land one of The Charming Nobles, and girls of lower class attempted, on occasion, to at least win their beds.

  So far, none of the noble ladies had succeeded in marrying one of them. The girls of lower class? Well, the Charming Nobles were men of honor, and would never tell.

  After all, what good was having the reputation of a sought-after bachelor if one married?

  Chapter 1

  The birds flew through the air and I sang of their path, the way they ebbed and flowed in flight. My voice carried, the tune mimicking the birds’ motion. I leaned out the window, smiling at the way they moved as one dipped, twisted, then flew right next to my window, making me duck inside.

  The bird warbled as it landed just out of reach, the sound entirely too much like my name.

  Rapunzel.

  Rapunzel.

  I giggled as it flew off again.

  The seasons were finally starting to crest. Flowers bloomed in the forest, the color illustrating the twist of the season as it moved toward the long-awaited brightness of spring. I let out a sigh, for as beautiful as the world outside was, I was not part of it. The birds and the lightning bugs zipped through the dark blue expanse of sky. How amazing it must be to be so free, to fly wherever one wanted. Even as the evening began to fall, the colors outside shone in the setting sun and I envied the animals living in the woods.

  They could walk among the flowers, feel the grass under their feet without any care in the world, not realizing how lucky they were. I could not imagine what grass felt like–would it be cool, hot after a day in the sun, would I sink into it, would it be prickly? I knew not, for I had never felt it and never would. I had not even touched the ground of the gardens at the base of my tower. I did not know what the flowers smelled like, how their petals felt against the skin–moist and soft, or rough to the touch, like the ones Mother brought home, already dried and only fit to be hung up and used in her potions.

  Such beauty existed outside the tower walls. If only I could experience it, just once, I would know true joy. To walk among the trees, to feel the bark on their sturdy trunks, to sit upon a branch like a bird. Oh, what a pleasure that would be. To be able to touch the leaves I have only watched for so long–how I longed for the freedom. More birds soared through the sky. As they climbed I sang higher notes, as they darted down, my song lowered with them.

  A blue jay dove to swipe at a berry on a tree far below. I followed its path, singing, when I saw something new out the corner of my eye. A flash of royal blue near the wall, just below the bird’s branch of berries.

  I turned, facing the new shining blue, my breath caught in my throat.

  It billowed in the breeze, and I squinted to see exactly what it was in the darkening sk
y. Fabric. Brilliant blue fabric. I could not help smiling, for I had never seen such a bright piece of cloth. It truly was beautiful but, as it flapped in the breeze, I realized it was not just stuck on a branch. It was attached.

  Attached to a boy!

  He stood atop the wall surrounding my tower, staring. His black hair glistened in the setting sun, shiny and almost blue in the light. He did not look away, instead taking a few steps along the wall so he was more directly in front of my window. I gasped, ducking below the windowsill, my heart hammering in my chest. My fair blond locks pooled around me like a blanket and, absentmindedly, I began stroking them, pulling the braids over my shoulders and wrapping them around me. Their heavy weight felt safe and warm.

  I stroked the weave of the braids, trying to understand why he was outside. Why did he stare at me so? Why look this way at all? What would he do? What could he do from there? Did he have a rope, could he climb the tower wall?

  Would he?

  I had nothing here worth stealing. I stroked the braids on my lap, and realized there was one thing of value in the tower. My hair.

  Suddenly I felt nauseated.

  Mother had told me of the horrors of the world. That someday, outsiders might come and wish to steal my hair, to cut off the locks. That I must be wary of anyone approaching the wall, for if they saw my hair, they could very well want it.

  I pulled it tighter around my body, hoping he would leave, disappear into the night and never return.

  For I was alone, and I knew that a maiden alone in a tower could be tempting to someone with evil on his mind.

  If only Mother were here.

  With my heart pounding, the heat in the pile of hair felt suffocating. I pulled the braids open to allow me to take in a few cool breaths of air. I forced myself to slow down, to breathe, because I needed to hear, to know if he tried to climb.

  A chirp made me jump, and I paused, trying to listen. Was it a bird fleeing in fear, warning the others, or was it merely flying and enjoying the night? I strained to hear again, to be certain, but it did not sound like the terrified warble birds made when panicked. Inhaling a breath, I slowly let it out to calm myself, yet it did not help.

  I closed my eyes, on the brink of tears. I stayed huddled in my hair, terrified of what this boy could do, yet too scared to peek to see if he had departed.

  Where was Mother? It had been almost a full moon cycle since she had left on her last mission…any coming hour could bring her return.

  In my mind’s eye, I could see the boy standing there, his blue cape swirling around him. Was he still there? The need to know clawed at me, but I could not risk another glance out the window. Even now he could be drawing back an arrow poised for my reappearance. He could have climbed the tower…

  No. That was impossible. Mother had sworn no one could scale my sanctuary without assistance. And yet, Mother had also promised the surrounding wall was too high to ascend and he had certainly managed that. How long would he stay? Would he remain?

  What if Mother returned? Would he attack her?

  What would I do?

  What could I do?

  Chapter 2

  Lord Nicolas von Hohburg leaped off the wall, landed as gracefully as possible in a thicket of bramble that stabbed his shins, and picked the nasty burrs off his trousers. His valet would have a fit at the sight of the new rips and holes.

  He backed away from the wall, staring up at the tower that loomed like a giant torch in the night. The glow from inside radiated from the window like a beacon. He shook his head–how could he not have seen this tower before? He had ridden through the Black Forest enough times. The tower had seemed to magically appear out of the landscape–one moment hidden by the trees, the next it was there, with its outer wall surrounding it, a turret without a castle.

  While it was an unusual thing indeed to find in the middle of the Black Forest, even more unusual was the beautiful sound emanating from it.

  At first, he had thought it a trick of the wind blowing through the trees, but as he had closed in, he realized it was a melody–an enchanting one that pulled him as much as his horse, leading the way to the tower. As Ovet wove through the trees, they had come to the clearing–or rather, the abrupt end of the heavy tree line–where the outer wall stood, a good ten feet high. The music was so beautiful the desire to discover its source was no longer a want, but a need.

  Finding foot- and handholds in the stone wall, he had heaved himself up the structure. Reaching the top, he pulled himself over, relieved and proud that he had scaled it.

  Standing on the wall, the music was even clearer and he had immediately seen the source. A girl stood in a window of the tower, a circle of light around her. He had rubbed his eyes and blinked twice, for she so resembled an angel he expected to see wings.

  He could not help watching her–this angel singing to the birds in the trees. The way her lips shaped each note, how she sang with complete abandon, her notes so free it left him in awe.

  When the wind whipped around him, he had thought for a moment he would lose his footing. His cloak slapped against him and he fought to shove it out of his face. Once his cloak was under control, he had returned his attention to the tower.

  The angel stared at him, her body rigid and the freedom she had been singing with gone.

  She looked frightened.

  Unsure what to do to ease her fears, he had smiled and started to raise his hand to wave when she had ducked back inside the tower.

  Disappointment had replaced the awe. Surely she was not scared of him? Did she think he would harm her?

  Who would harm such an angel?

  Nick shook his head, trying to snap himself out of his thoughts. He needed to be getting home—it was probably a good hour to Castle Hohburg, the capital of his province.

  His father’s province. Someday it would be his, but not until his father gave it to him. And if his mother had her way, Nick would never inherit. Or at least not until he agreed to her conditions. He patted Ovet’s flank before climbing into the saddle. She turned her head and snorted at him in apparent rebuke. He had kept her out past feeding time, so he guessed he deserved it.

  He stroked her neck. “You are a good girl.”

  The horse shook her mane, as if agreeing with him. She tugged at the bit but Nick fought for her head. He could not take his gaze from the window.

  The angel did not come back, yet he continued to hope he would see her, hear that beautiful voice again. Perhaps he had frightened her by appearing so suddenly on the wall. Perhaps she had thought him an attacker? He shook his head at his stupidity. Of course that would frighten her. It would frighten anyone. Especially if she were alone up there.

  Alone, in the woods.

  He had seen no sign of another person in the tower. Nudging his horse toward the wall, he circled it while looking for a door, staying far enough away not to let the horse get tangled in the bramble that grew all around the perimeter. He rode around it twice before realizing there was no way through the wall. Hoping for another glimpse of her, he stopped in sight of her window.

  He sat there as long as he could–the darker it got, the less safe the forest became. Even his horse began to get twitchy after a short while and, with reluctance, Nick turned the horse toward home.

  He would be back, though. Of that he had no doubt. It was far too curious to find an angel alone in a tower that had no entrance.

  As he headed through the trees, a fleeting thought crossed his mind.

  Perhaps she was an angel in truth. For an angel would need no door to descend from the heavens.

  Chapter 3

  Everything was still. Even the birds had quieted. Hiding below the window, my knees pulled to my chest, I could hardly feel my fingers, much less my bottom on the hard stone floor.

  Yet I did not dare move. He could still be out there.

  My heart thundered in my chest, yet every other part of me remained frozen.

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your ha
ir, so I may ascend thy golden stair,” echoed from the garden.

  I yelped until I realized I knew the voice.

  Mother had returned.

  I leaped to my feet and threw the bundle of hair out the window, though I immediately looked to the wall for the boy. I felt a swell of relief. Mother was back and he was gone. I was safe.

  Bracing myself against the window, I twisted my head back and forth to keep a small bit of slack in the braids. I tried not to wince at the pain, for every time she ascended it hurt. I continued to scan the ground for signs of the boy–a broken branch or rustling bush–but he had disappeared with no evidence.

  Mother emerged at the window and I helped her inside. Although her dark hair was still pulled into its customary tight knot atop her head, the lines in her face looked deeper than usual and her back was hunched. She looked gaunt and depleted, but then she always looked most weary after she had been away on one of her missions.

  She paused, raising an eyebrow just as she regained her footing. “Child, what is it? You look frightened.”

  I shook my head. “No. I…”

  “What?” Mother crossed the room and lifted my chin to look into my eyes.

  Her fingernails scratched my skin but I kept my face still, not showing any sign of pain. “I thought…for a moment, I thought I saw someone outside.”

  Mother spun, heading back to the window. “Where?”

  I gestured to the wall, unable to lie. Mother always knew and punishment was swift if I tried such a thing.

  “I see no one.” She turned back to me. “Are you certain?” Her tone suggested that I was mistaken, that I had merely imagined a person.

  Maybe I had.

  “I thought… Maybe…”