The Witch's Tower, Tamara Grantham [best ereader for academics TXT] 📗

“There’s fresh water in the bucket. Should ye be needing anything else, it’ll have to wait till morning.” He turned to Raj. “You, follow me.”

I watched as the two men left the room, shutting the door behind them, and leaving me in silence. An uneasy feeling settled over me. I wasn’t accustomed to sleeping in strange places. I’d slept nowhere but inside the tower for the past five years, and being here now, facing the prospects of sleeping on a bed of straw, far from Rapunzel, unnerved me.

I pulled my knapsack off my shoulder and placed it on the ground, then sat on the straw mattress and began unlacing my boots. After pulling them off, I set them aside. I removed my cloak next, and though I sat alone in the room, I still felt as if someone were watching as I removed the cowl.

My mop of turquoise, windblown hair was beginning to come free of the bun, so I removed the hair pins and let it fall to my waist. Self-consciously, I removed my clothes and dressed in my nightgown, all the while thinking someone must’ve been watching me. Why else would I feel so vulnerable?

I crawled under the bed covers, blew out the candle, and closed my eyes tight, trying to ignore the straw poking into my back, and the sour smells of dried urine and sweat coming from the coarse blankets. Outside my window, tree limbs scratched the glass. Their leafless silhouettes reminded me of long, curving claws, making my thoughts turn to tomorrow’s journey through Spirit Woods.

It wasn’t until now that I seriously pondered what we would be up against. The stories always varied. Monsters and witches were said to live there.

Witches. Ha!

Unlike Raj, those ghost stories didn’t bother me. I was more frightened of the actual dangers. The wolves that would rip a person apart, leaving nothing but scattered bones behind.

A knock came at my door, startling me from my thoughts. I lit the candle, grabbed my cloak, and hastily put it on to cover my hair, then tiptoed to the door.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

“It’s me. Raj.”

I opened the door just enough to peer outside.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I wanted to talk. It will only take a moment.”

“In here?”

“Yes, if you please.”

I hesitated. What if he tried something? I would be alone. But I had my knife and potions, though I didn’t want to use those unless I had to.

“Very well,” I said. “Come inside.”

He entered, then shut the door behind him. The glint of a knife’s blade shone from his hands. Startled, I stumbled back, cursing.

“Get away from me!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, holding the knife up and out of reach. “I’ve brought this for you. I don’t entirely trust this place, and I thought it best if you armed yourself.”

“I’ve already got a knife.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I brought it in case anyone tried anything—like entering my room with a weapon.”

“Do you really distrust me so much?”

“Yes, I do. Forgive me, but I hardly know you.”

“Then you should know you have nothing to fear. I gave you my word I would protect you, and I mean to keep it.”

“Fine,” I said. “If you’ve nothing else to bother me with, and as I already have a weapon, I would appreciate if you leave—”

“Gothel,” he interrupted. “That wasn’t all. I also came to apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you earlier. I realize you are a witch and most likely a very powerful one. I should have thought before I spoke, but I have a bad habit of saying things before I think, and for that I’m sorry.”

I crossed my arms, somehow still wanting to be angry with him, but he’d apologized, which showed he was humble enough to admit he was wrong. I couldn’t fault him for that.

“Very well. I accept your apology.”

“You do?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes, of course I do. I’m not a total witch, you know.”

“Now you’re teasing me.”

“Maybe a little.” I smiled.

“And you won’t… turn me into a frog or anything. Right?”

“Only if you make me really angry.”

“Ah.” He forced a laugh, as if he couldn’t decide if I were joking or not. “Well, I suppose I should go back to my room.”

“Yes. And you can keep the knife.”

“Of course.” He flipped it in the air, caught the hilt, then shoved it into a sheath hanging from his belt. He turned toward the door, stopped, then turned around once again.

“Gothel, I hope I’m not being intrusive, but why are you wearing your cloak?”

“Oh, I forgot. I wasn’t sure who was at the door.” I pulled off the cloak and tossed it on the bed. “I didn’t want anyone to see my hair—not that I’ve had any trouble before—but if the high sorcerer’s squadrons came through the village looking for a girl with blue hair, I’d be easy to spot.”

He eyed me, a curious expression on his face. My heart fluttered as he stared at me. I’d never realized how beautiful his eyes were. His dark irises reflected the soft glow of the candle, making them twinkle. He took a step toward me, and I cleared my throat, glancing away, suddenly feeling unbearably hot.

“You have lovely hair,” he said.

Lovely?

He reached out and touched a strand near my cheek, his fingers nearly touching my skin. He smelled of amber and dark forests, and something else, something that reminded me of the spices the high sorcerer bought from the Outlanders—a rich, heady scent that washed over me.

My heart pounded at his nearness, but why? I’d been so angry at him earlier, and now I was feeling… strangely excited. It felt as though butterflies danced in my stomach. I desperately wanted him to touch me, but I didn’t at the same time. My emotions baffled me.

“Was it a spell that made your hair this way?” he asked.

“No. I was born with it.”

“Really? That’s unusual.”

“Yes.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. His nearness made me feel breathless, but perhaps any girl would have the same reaction. He was from an exotic land and squire to the prince. His mysterious nature made him attractive. Yes, that must have been it. I was only having the same reaction anyone else would have. There was nothing special between us. At least, I hoped not.

“I’m tired,” I said, whispering.

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” He stepped back, straightening, as if he’d only now realized that he’d let down his guard. “I’ll just go. Sorry,” he repeated, stumbling as he turned to the door, opened it, and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

I didn’t move for several seconds. I wasn’t sure I could. My body felt so wound up, and I was breathing too fast. I needed to convince myself that there was nothing between me and Raj, otherwise, this quest would be a disaster.

Breathe deeply. Clear your mind.

I closed my eyes, but when I did, all I could see were Raj’s beautiful eyes again—dark and penetrating—making my skin feel flushed and wonderful.

Drat. This wasn’t at all working.

Climbing into bed, I pulled the blankets up to my chin. I stared at the window, listening to the sounds of the wind howling and limbs scraping over the glass.

He’d called my hair lovely.

No one had ever said anything like that to me. I’d never thought of my hair as lovely. Different, maybe. Cursed, sometimes. But never lovely.

I rolled away from the window to face the door instead. Raj baffled me. On the one hand, he seemed so kind and gentlemanly, and on the other, he acted like a fool.

As I drifted off, not even the scratchiness of the blankets or their sour odor could drive away my thoughts of Raj, so I stopped fighting it. Chances were, he wasn’t even attracted to me, and I had nothing to worry about in the first place. Complimenting a person’s hair was hardly a confession of love. He was only trying to be kind to me after his apology. Yes, that must’ve been it.

I had nothing to worry about.

Probably.