Thorns Among Shadows: A Rapunzel Retelling

CHAPTER ONE

Meira’s arm felt heavy as her fingers traced the letters etched into the cold, smooth stone marking her sister Eirian’s grave. It sat at the back of the garden beneath a large oak tree. Their mother’s gravestone stood next to it, covered in moss and its letters beginning to fade, while Eirian’s was fresher, only six months old.

Six months.

The sickness, though lasting only months, had felt like a lifetime. Father had fallen sick first but managed to recover without lingering effects. Eirian though. . . Eirian succumbed after months of fighting. And her death rattled Meira’s father to his core, his grief weakening his heart.

Meira took a shuddering breath as a late summer breeze, unusually chill for the season, blew through the garden. She looked over her shoulder, at the lone swing hanging from the oak’s branch slowly swaying in the breeze, and thought back to the times she and her sister had spent pushing each other on it—such a simpler time.

While looking back at the gravestones, Meira placed a hand on top of Eirian’s. She stood, turning to see her father, Lord Daesyn, in an emerald-green cloak. His beard was freshly shaved, his short-trimmed hair a mix of salt and pepper. At first glance, he was as she’d always known him—tall, handsome, and blue eyed, with a great mind for literature and storytelling. The ornate cane he steadied himself with served as a cold reminder of their tragedy.

Meira, it’s cold out, he said, his voice gentle. You aren’t dressed for the weather.

Meira looked down at her clothes—a green, short-sleeved tunic and a long riding skirt with brown boots, paired with matching bracers. Her quiver of arrows and bow tucked in its sheath rested against the trunk of the tree. Her long, curly red hair sat braided on her shoulder. She’d gone riding through the forest early that morning, taking her horse, Vala, down the path leading to the waterfall she and Eirian would often play at when they were young.

Meira had been out in much chillier temperatures than this, and normally she would say he was worrying for nothing, but the cold air had been what led to his and Eirian’s sickness, so she couldn’t blame him. The city physician had been to see him when he’d first taken ill and said it should be gone within a few weeks. When he still hadn’t improved month later, and it had only gotten worse, the court physician was called next, thanks to his status as a council member. Her father finally recovered after a few more weeks, but his health hadn’t been quite the same.

Meira gave her father a gentle smile, walking to his side. I know, Father. I’m sorry. I let myself fall into my thoughts.

A yawning silence fell between them as their gazes wandered toward the gravestones. After a moment, her father cleared his throat. The carriage bringing us to the capital will be ready to take us soon, he said.

Meira hid her scowl with effort. Her father knew well just how much Meira despised the idea of going to court for the whole spring season, possibly through the summer as well, but she didn’t want to make him feel any more guilty than he likely did. After all, Eirian had been the eldest daughter. Eirian was the one who was to take his place at court. She’d had the mind for it, the social savvy to navigate politics, and a knack for sifting useful information from gossip. Being surrounded by boring gossip at court wasn’t something Meira had ever seen in her future, but it seemed fate had other plans in mind.

Though her father’s mind was still sharp, the Ivory Council had expressed concern that his age, paired with his weakened heart, may inhibit his ability to travel between court and his estate and had proposed training a replacement to take his place. Since Eirian had passed, that left Meira, who felt forced to take both their places for fear of losing their status at court and, ultimately, their family home. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

Court in the kingdom of Alythia met annually in the spring, which meant being there for two or three months, depending on how the council sessions went. The Daesyn family owned two estates—a smaller house in the capital city, for the convenience of going back and forth to court, and their true home, located at the edge of the kingdom, where she and Eirian had been born.

Meira and her father would ride to the capital city, then Meira would begin her journey into court life. She couldn’t help but feel resentful toward her sister. Meira wanted to, instead, stay in the countryside, riding her horse through the forest and practicing archery in peace. But wants were not reality.

The transition to the capital would take a few days. They’d have to stop to water and feed the horses and would stay at a small inn along the way. They’d reach the estate within the city by the following afternoon, and by the third day, Meira would continue on to the castle.

Meira’s father placed a hand on her arm, gently pulling her toward the garden entrance. She allowed him to lead her, taking one last glance back at the gravestones.

Meira watched out the carriage window as they rode farther and farther away from her childhood home. She’d been to the capital city a scant number of times, and the castle itself even less, and knew she’d feel out of place there. Her usual activities would be curtailed, including ones that weren’t considered especially ladylike. Instead, she’d be expected to sit in the throne room when the royal family—Prince Gaelen and the Queen Regent, Queen Averith—were there, and otherwise sit in on most council meetings. Her hands twisted into sweaty knots at the thought.

Meira shifted to lean out the window, looking back toward the house as the carriage moved farther along the main road. She swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening her eyes as she silently said goodbye to her childhood home. Who knew how long it would be before she returned, or how much she’d have changed in that time? She heaved a frustrated sigh and turned back in her seat, directing her gaze forward out the window.

Meira thought back to the last time she’d seen Prince Gaelen. Her father had to come to the castle for a special council meeting and brought Meira and Eirian with him. Eirian had gone off with their cousin Haelyn, but Meira explored the castle, only to end up lost. She’d entered the library, where she found Prince Gaelen sitting on the floor with a pile of books next to him.

Meira smiled at the memory. It seemed like such a lifetime ago now. She’d apologized for disturbing the prince, but a spark had appeared in his blue eyes, and Gaelen invited her to sit with him. She’d hesitated, but his smirk intrigued her, and so she ultimately joined him, talking about books and the stories her father had told her. They spent the whole day together, wandering the castle. Gaelen showed her some of the hidden passageways, leading all the way down into the depths of the castle where ancient royal family heirlooms were kept.

By the end of the day, they’d made their way out into the courtyard, where Gaelen showed her how to shoot a bow and arrow. It was later that day, when they’d gone back to their home in the city, that Meira begged her father to finally teach her archery. Traditionally, the art of archery had been passed down in their family for a few generations now, and her father was glad to see that she, at least, was eager to learn the skill. From that day forward, she had worked diligently and even began teaching herself to shoot a target while riding Vala.

The one upside to returning to court after all this time would be seeing Prince Gaelen again. She wondered how much he’d changed in the seven years that had passed, and whether he would even remember her, or the time they’d spent together.

Seeming to sense Meira’s frustration, her father looked up from the parchment sprawled in his lap, placing it down next to him on the seat. Reaching a hand across, he took one of her hands in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

We’ll be passing the oasis soon, he said. It’s supposedly the location of the fairy-blessed well that helps to keep the crops growing. Some of the villagers say that just a sprinkle of its water keeps them growing, even during a drought.

Meira always enjoyed when her father told her stories—it helped make the time go by faster, especially on long journeys.

Late in the afternoon of their second day of travel, the carriage arrived at the bottom of a long cobblestone path winding its way into the capital city. The carriage jerked to an abrupt halt, nearly throwing Meira into her father’s lap. She frowned and curiously poked her head out the window. To the right, a city guard stood by the carriage coachman, his silver cloak flowing in the soft wind. Meira strained to hear the conversation, but the guard glanced in her direction, giving her a hard look before turning his back to her.

Don’t worry, we won’t be here for long, her father said. It’s just a routine inspection. They always do this when the court is about to be in session.

What are they checking for? Meira asked.

Unauthorized weapons, usually, her father replied.

Meira frowned, trying to remember the last time she’d visited the capital. Is it normal for them to check for weapons? What about my bow and arrows?

Lord Daesyn heaved a sigh. They’ve been a bit stricter about it since the death of King Torryn, he replied. Don’t worry about your bow. I’ve already made sure the coachman notifies the guards that you’ve been pre-authorized to have it.

Things in Alythia had changed since King Torryn’s death. It was as though a shadow had hung itself over the kingdom—stricter laws, villagers struggling to keep food on their tables due to higher taxes. Even Meira’s father had mentioned the council meetings being harder to sit through.

Meira thought back to the day she’d learned of King Torryn’s death. She’d gone looking for her father, finding both the study and sitting room empty. She made her way outside and into the garden, walking along the path, and found him sitting on a bench along the stone path. A piece of parchment was clutched tight in his hand, his head down.

Pulling her cloak around her, Meira had walked over to him and knelt in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

Father, what is it? she asked.

Sadness she’d not seen since her mother’s death filled his eyes as he looked up at her. King Torryn has died.

Meira held in a gasp, moving to sit down on the bench. Her father and Torryn had been friends for many years, since they were both young. Meira knew how much the king and his friendship had meant to her father. Wrapping her arms around him gently, she sat with him in silence until he was finally ready to head inside. As they sat, Meira thought of Prince Gaelen and what the king’s death would mean for him.

After a moment, the carriage jolted forward again, beginning its way up the winding road. They soon came to another stop, this time at the house. The coachman opened the door and put a hand out for Meira. Meira placed her hand in his and stepped out of the carriage, staring up at the house.

Meira’s father climbed out of the carriage and stood next to her, placing a hand on her arm as he adjusted his hold on his walking stick. Come, Meira. We’ll unpack and get settled in, he said.

As she walked toward the house, she caught sight of the family emblem and motto painted on its side. The emblem was that of a sprig of juniper, crossed with an arrow, with the words strong of root, strong of thorn written below. The Daesyn family had received a noble title for their archery skills many years ago during the War of Ivory. Being able to carry on those skills was something Meira always prided herself on.

Meira followed her father into the house, finding herself standing in the foyer. To her right was a sitting room with a fireplace and bookshelves lined with rows of books. To her left was the staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms.

The bedroom she’d shared with Eirian was at the end of the hall, its door shut. Echoes of her and Eirian’s giggles rang in her ears. As she climbed the spiral staircase, she realized she hadn’t been back to the capital estate since before Eirian’s death.

Meira came to the end of the hallway, staring at the door for a moment before placing her hand on the doorknob and opening the door. The musty odor of dust entered her nostrils, forcing her to sneeze as she entered the room. Two beds sat to her left, one each tucked in opposite corners, with a small dresser and candlestick sitting between them.

Meira walked to the desk sitting straight ahead, where a strew of parchment and a book lay.