Captive (A Rapunzel Retelling) Book 4 of the Fairytale Book Series

Chapter Six

"The princess suspects nothing, she believes I am saving her," a familiar voice said. It sounded like a woman's voice, probably the same age as Zipporah's mother would be.

Zipporah dreamt she was in a dark wood. There were tall looming trees with barely any moonlight filtering through the leaves, almost the way the forest had looked the night she and Gertrude escaped the castle. She was lying on the ground, half asleep. She could see shadows and hear voices. She tried to ask what was going on but her mouth refused to open and her body felt as heavy as lead.

A different voice answered to the woman's, it was a man's.

"Are you sure she doesn't suspect?" asked the man. He sounded younger than the woman, perhaps thirty. "I have heard she is a rather clever child. You even said so yourself she was wise enough to know the kingdom depended on her safety since she is the heir to throne."

The woman laughed in a way that sounded much like a witch cackling.

"Oh, you worry too much. True she is clever, but so am I. The diversion I created by hiring those brigands in Gartenstadt and allowing them to storm the castle with weapons, it gave me the perfect opportunity to snatch the little pampered brat from under Their Majesties noses. And with their precious daughter out of the way, I have rightful claim to the throne and nothing shall stop me this time!" The woman let out another high-pitched laugh.

"How long do you plan to keep her up there, my lady?" asked the man.

"Hmm. Perhaps I shall keep her a while. After the disgrace of what the king did to me, I was never able to have children of my own, and the girl already is like a daughter to me." She was silent for a while, probably thinking, and then added, "Yes, I shall keep her in the tower and raise her like the daughter I never had, the daughter I was denied. I will claim the throne when she becomes of age, and above all, she will never know that she will be a prisoner and never see her family again."

"No!"

Zipporah sat up suddenly, her body drenched in a cold sweat. She panted hard, hugging herself and rocked back and forth in her bed, reliving the scene from her nightmare. At least, she thought it was a nightmare. It seemed so real—the darkness of the forest, the voices who spoke of her.

Who had those voices belonged to? None of it made sense.

Then again, it was dream. Dreams never did make sense. Although it seemed to Zipporah, that her dreams were things that had actually happened. But if that were true, how come she couldn't remember who those two voices belonged to?

"Zipporah!" Gertrude's voice called from downstairs.

Zipporah's eyes darted to the door of her bedroom. She sighed a deep breath, then called back, "Coming!" before going to her trunk to find a dress to wear. She took more deep breaths to calm herself, remembering that her dream was just that. It was a dream, it wasn't real.

After she finished dressing in a white chemise and light purple cotehardie, Zipporah ambled out of her room to meet Gertrude by the window. The older woman tried to talk to her while she was hauling the same basket and embroidered cloths over her shoulder, but Zipporah was too busy thinking about her dream to notice. Nor did she really care to hear any of the lies she knew Gertrude was most likely telling her. Eventually, probably tonight when Gertrude came home for supper, Zipporah would try to uncover a bit more information about her childhood tutor and find out what she was really doing each day when she left their tower. But for now, she plastered on her most convincing smile and watched while Gertrude lowered herself out the window and climbed down to the ground.