Out of the Tower: The Charming Fairy Tales, #1

By Candice Gilmer

A historical romance meets a grown-up fairy tale! 

A Charming Fairy Tale, Book 1

Rapunzel knows no other existence but her life in her tower, carrying for her twenty ells of golden hair and obeying her strict mother. 

She would love to feel the grass between her toes and touch the bark of a tree, but she knows she will never be able to—her magical braids keep her trapped in the tower she lives in, high over the forest. 

Then one day, she sees a boy. A man. 

And he throws everything she knows—everything her mother taught her about the outside world—into question. 

Can she trust this boy? He makes her heart patter in her chest, and his mere presence makes her feel alive in ways she's never known. 

But Mother told her the world was filled with evil and danger. 

Is he more danger? 

Or is he a savior? 

Can she trust him long enough to find out? Or will his duty destroy this budding relationship before it ever gets on it's feet? 

**This book was originally published as Rescuing Rapunzel, but has been since expanded and updated. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flirtation Publishing
• Release date: Sep 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536527384

Candice Gilmer

USA Today and NY Times bestselling author Candice Gilmer leads a dangerous double life as a mommy and a writer. In between boo-boo healing and fixing broken toys, she writes stories usually to the tune of children’s television shows. Growing up in the Midwest, Candice stays close to her family, especially the ones with basements when the tornadoes come around. All in all, she stays very busy, but really, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, maybe a little less children’s television.

Book preview

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 outside, smiling at the way they moved as one dipped, twisted, then flew right next to my window.

I ducked inside and giggled as it flew by me.

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

Rapunzel.

Rapunzel.

I giggled again as it flew off.

The music of nature always put a smile on my face.

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.

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 wants, I said to the bird.

As the evening began to fall, the colors outside shined in the setting sun and I envied the animals living in the woods.

I hummed as I watched everything, my fingers itching to touch, to feel the world outside my tower.

I was ever-envious of the animals and the birds—how they walked among the flowers, felt the grass under their feet, not realizing how lucky they were. I could not imagine what grass must feel like--would it be cool? Or 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.

Mother harvested the food.

Not I.

I remained safe in my tower, protected from the world and free from all the darkness.

Though I did not feel freedom.

I sang to myself as my gaze darted over the pops of color from the few flowers I could see on the other side of the wall, though as the dark started to descend, even those colorful spots faded into the shadows.

My song started to slow and lower as my thoughts fell into my deepest desires.

I did not know what flowers smelled like, how their petals felt against the skin--moist and soft, or rough to the touch? The ones Mother brought home were always starting to dry and only fit to be used in her potions.

Such beauty existed outside the tower walls! The aroma of the flowers, if the wind blew right, would reach me, but that was all.

My wish remained—as it had most my life—only to explore the world, just once. Then 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, and feel their green texture.

How I longed for the freedom.

More birds soared through the sky, inspiring me to sing higher notes. Their energy fueled my song, and as they darted down, my song lowered with them.

A blue jay dove to swipe at a berry on a tree far below. I leaned out the window, singing as I watched the bird, and I saw a flash of royal blue near the wall, just below the bird’s branch of berries.

My breath caught in my throat.

The blue billowed in the breeze, and it took me a moment to realize what I saw popping out of the shadows of the forest.

It was fabric. Brilliant blue fabric. Where did it come from? Was it stuck on the branch?

I grinned. I’d 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 to a boy!

He stood atop the wall surrounding my tower, staring at me. His black hair glistened in the setting sun, shiny and almost blue in the light.

He took a few steps along the wall so he stood directly in front of my window.

Oh no! Oh my! I gasped as I ducked below the windowsill. Moving so fast, I slammed my head against the wooden framework around the sill. The cracking sound amplified the pain suddenly throbbing in my head.

My heart hammered, and I pressed my hand against my chest to try and calm it, though it did me no good. Everything felt so hot and sticky.

I brushed my hand against my forehead.

Blood…

My head felt even more woozy at the sight. There seemed to be an awful lot of it.

I needed to bandage it.

But if I stood, it would reveal my location to the boy on the wall…

Did I stay? Hope the wound healed?

Or did I try to get to my bandages in Mother’s workroom on the other side of the tower? Surely the young man would see me if I tried to walk over there. My window was large and open, part of the reason Mother used it to get in and out.

Even though my head felt weak, I knew I had very little option, without revealing my position to the young man.

I scooted toward my nearby bed, where I kept a pair of scissors underneath for mending my clothing.

I glanced about at my hair.

The ends were not far, the braids looped around the room, covering a good portion of the floor where I walked to and from the fireplace, my bed, and my seating area. I started tugging the plait toward me, where my tattered ends were.

I wanted to lay down and take a nap, but I was certain I should not do so. Mother once said… I cannot remember, just that I should not lie down.

Not yet.

I tugged my hair closer and snagged the ends. I winced, even before I lifted the ends to cut because I knew the pain.

It would not be pleasant. Even cutting a few tattered ends of my hair would leave me in tears.

But I would cut a few… If only to make sure my wound healed quickly. Mother would be quite cross if she found me injured or worse while she had been gone.

I ran my hand over my brow, and felt the loose tresses around my hairline.

Loose hair…

I started tugging all the strands together in a single spot and balled them on themselves. With my other hand, I tugged a piece of scrap fabric from the box where I kept my scissors, and bundled it all together.

It was just enough to wrap around a makeshift bandage.

Almost immediately, my head stopped throbbing, and I was thankful for my hair’s ability to heal.

A bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck as I leaned back against the cool stone of my tower wall, tucking myself back under the window sill.

My blonde locks pooled around me like a blanket. Absentmindedly, I stroked them, then pulled the braids over me to conceal myself just in case the stranger decided to… well, I wasn’t sure what he might do.

Their heavy weight hid me and kept me safe and warm.

Inside my cocoon, I stroked the weave of the braids.

A boy.

Who stood on my wall. I both marveled and feared him—a strange sensation to be certain.

Why did he stare at me so? Why look this way at all? 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. As I stroked the plaits that had fallen on my lap, I realized there was one thing of value in the tower.

My hair.

I felt nauseated.

I knew of the greed and horrors of the world. That outsiders might come and wish to steal my hair—to cut off the locks and take the strands. Hair like mine would be a very sought after commodity.

Cutting it off would likely kill me.

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

For 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 know if he tried to climb.

A chirp made me jump, and I paused. Was it a bird fleeing in fear, warning the others, or was it merely flying and enjoying the night? I strained to be certain. The chirp I heard did not sound like the terrified warble 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, 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?

2

Lord Nicolas von Hohburg leaped off the wall and landed as gracefully as possible in a thicket of bramble. The nasty burrs stabbed his shins and he picked them off his trousers.

His valet would have a fit at the sight of the new rips and holes.

Nicolas smirked.

Tormenting his valet on occasion always amused Nick. A bramble poked him, making the tip of his finger bleed.

He sucked his finger into his mouth as he backed away from the wall. The tower 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, its outer wall surrounding it, a turret without a castle.

Unusual as it was 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. The enchanting song pulled him as much as his horse and led the way to the tower. As his trusted mount, 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 enticed him so, the desire to discover its source was no longer a want, but a need.

Finding handholds in the stone wall, he had heaved himself up the structure. From the top of the wall, the music was even clearer and he finally saw the source.

A girl stood in a window of the tower, a circle of light around her. He had rubbed his eyes and blinked, for she so resembled an angel he expected to see wings.

He could not help watching her--this angel singing to the birds. 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.

He heard the clunk.

And he stood there for a while, waiting to see if there was movement. Was she all right inside the tower?

He’d been assessing his gear, wondering if he could scale the tower wall, when a flicker of light signaled she was moving around.

Yet not once did she look back out of the window.

Disappointment had replaced the awe. Surely she wasn’t scared of him. Did she think he would harm her?

Who would harm such an angel?

Nick shook his head. 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.

Unfortunately, her conditions did not match his father’s. They had vastly different beliefs on Nick’s ability to run the province.

Or rather, Nick’s ability to run it properly.

He patted Ovet’s flank before climbing into the saddle. The horse 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’re 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 or hear her beautiful voice again.

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, he circled the wall, and looked for a door. He stayed far enough away not to let the horse get tangled in the bramble as they rode around the perimeter. He circled 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. Ovet began to get twitchy after a short while. Reluctantly Nick turned the horse toward home.

He would be back, though. Of that he had no doubt. It was far too intriguing 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.

An angel would need no door to descend from the heavens.

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, yet every other part of me remained frozen. How long I had been there, I wasn’t sure.

My head stopped hurting a while ago.

I might have fallen asleep for a while. Everything felt groggy and bizarre.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, so I may ascend thy golden stair, echoed from the garden.

I yelped.

Then I realized I knew the voice.

Mother had returned.

I leaped to my feet and threw the braids of hair out the window. As the bundle fell, 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.

Though it rarely worked.

Mother was slow and her ascension always hurt.

I continued to scan the ground for signs of the boy--a broken branch or rustling bush--but he seemed to have disappeared with no evidence.

Thank goodness.

Mother would not be happy if she knew a stranger had climbed the tower wall.

I gritted my teeth as Mother emerged at the window. I helped her climb in, and with a groan, she was righted and inside the tower. 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.

I must have looked worried, for her inquisitive stare seemed to poke into me.

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

I shook my head, looking away. No. I…

What? Mother 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. Mother always knew when I fibbed and her punishments were swift.

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.

My hand went to my brow. The makeshift bandage was gone—fallen off, I saw the bloody scrap on the floor.

If there was any remainder of the wound, it must be gone as well.

But Mother was so certain…

I thought… Maybe… I stepped away from her.

You thought you saw someone, or you did? She snagged a section of my hair. Be certain. Her fists tangled around one of the braids, and just that added tension hurt.

Or perhaps it was because I knew what was coming.

I surely imagined it. I winced. Forgive me, Mother.

She jerked the braid anyway and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Mother started pacing around the tower room. Outsiders are dangerous, Rapunzel. You must be very careful. She glanced out the window again. Perhaps it is time, after all, she murmured. She clenched her hands as she whispered to herself. When she faced me, she pulled a small dagger from the folds of her dress.

I stepped back, though I knew it did no good.

Because Mother with a dagger could never be good.

Mother grabbed a plait of hair off the floor and, as she paced the room, let it slide through her fingers. There are many who would wish you harm, Rapunzel. It is time, I believe, to be sure you are ready. She found the very end of the braid, held it as though about to wield a paintbrush. The dagger glistened in the light from the window.

Yes, Mother. I gritted my teeth against what was coming.

The dagger was sharp, but it did not lessen the pain of Mother slicing off the bottom of my braid, though today she only took a hand’s width of hair.

Tears stung my eyes as the hair was severed but I forced myself to remain still.

Mother held the chunk of hair in her palm, examining the strands as she did every time.

Then she turned her attention to me. You must learn to defend yourself against intruders, my dear. She dropped the rest of the hair. The braids landed with a thud on the floor.

My body sagged. It was over.

Then Mother did the most extraordinary thing.

She handed me the dagger.

Mother?

She waved off the question. You need something to defend yourself with if by chance someone did manage to get into the tower. You are almost eighteen. It is time you learned to protect yourself.

Of course, Mother. You are right. The flicker of the blue cloak and the boy I saw were enough encouragement. I twisted the dagger this way and that and watched the way the light shone on the blade. I imagined striking out with it, shoving the gleaming metal into the flesh of another human being, and I wanted to be sick.

But Mother was right. I needed to know how to defend myself. Mother would not always be here--her journeys were taking longer and longer.

This last mission she was gone almost an entire moon cycle, and if she had not come back when she did, I did not know what I would have done.

There was no other way to enter except by the window through which Mother came and went--and only then with the use of my hair. It was hard to fathom someone being able to scale the wall, let alone the tower, and I had always taken comfort in that.

At least until tonight.

Though I still didn’t trust myself.

Had he been there?

I thought he was.

But I could be wrong. I could have imagined him.

Yet I saw the blood. My blood.

I didn’t know what to think. Only that I would have to learn what to do.

I do not know how to use it, I said, my gaze darting to the blade.

Mother’s expression was dark she stared at the dagger in my hand. I shall teach you.

4

Nick wiped the sweat from his eyes.

He brushed his hair from his face and raised his sword to the ready position.

What is the matter with you today, Nick? Count Bryan von Thalunburg asked as he leaned against a tree. His stein lifted to his lips, blond hair falling in his eyes.

Nothing. Nick stared down his opponent, Earl Penn von Eisenburg. Penn’s sword was at the ready, but he looked rather bored.

Liar.

In a swift move, Penn slashed with his sword, the attack quick and lethal.

Nick slammed his shield against Penn’s sword to block. Nick had size and strength but Penn, more lean and wiry, had always used his speed to his advantage.

Usually, they were evenly matched.

Not today.

Nick’s lack of sleep and the audience in the windows above the practice yard put the advantage sharply in Penn’s corner today.

Soft feminine giggles flitted down, fueling Penn’s attack.

At least today no women lingered in the courtyard. Today they watched from above like vultures.

Not that Nick cared. None of those women meant anything to him. His sister Enrika’s little playmates invaded every spring, claiming to visit Kiki, but their true motivation was to land a husband.

Nick was a prime target, as a Charming Noble.

Penn was there because he loved the attention, regardless if the girls were barely out of the schoolroom.

Bryan, however, never missed a chance to torment Kiki, a pastime he had yet to grow out of. Of course, Kiki brought a lot of it on herself.

She loomed with the vultures watching out the windows even now.

While dueling was good sport, Nick hated the spectacle it made for Kiki’s little friends to giggle and thither about.

Silly little girls, Nick thought to himself. And he almost stumbled from Penn’s attacks.

You shall never win a lady with this performance, Penn said, taunting him as he threw two more quick strikes.

As if I would want such babies… Nick blocked a particularly jarring blow from Penn.

Penn spun and, as he came around, sword at the ready, he winked at the women in the window. Those babies are all legal to be wed, even your sister.

Nick gritted his teeth. Kiki is barely a woman.

He slashed out with his sword. The maids were children as far as he was concerned. They followed him constantly, giggling and whispering, which only served to emphasize their youth. Kiki, the ringleader, seemed to practically thrive on their foolish behavior.

She is almost one and twenty, Bryan added from the side and sipped his drink, a smile not quite hidden by his cup.

Nick glanced at Bryan. I do not particularly like the idea of you paying attention to my sister. She is a girl. A child.

Bryan snorted. Thou shalt not covet thy friend’s sister.

Penn swung his sword at Nick. Someone should covet her. She is growing up.

Nick snarled, countered as best he could, but with a few quick strokes Penn had him disarmed.

Again.

Fire burned in him. Fire from his exhaustion, from his friend’s taunting about his baby sister. From his mother’s constant pestering about taking, gah—tea—with the giggling little children.

Everyone wanted more from him than he was willing to give--more than he had in him to give if he were honest.

Bound by his responsibilities to take care of his province and the commitments of his father, Nick didn’t have time for little giggling girls.

Nor friends who made suggestive remarks about his sister.

Speak not about my sister, Nick growled. His particularly ornery sibling would be a monster to wed--yet another responsibility he would have to shoulder someday.

Someone should be speaking of her, Penn said. She’s grown quite lovely. His eyes darkened in that way Penn got when he lusted after a woman--a look Nick had noticed every time Penn chose a new dalliance.

Nick lunged at Penn. He shoved his weapon aside and wrapped a hand around his throat.

Go near my sister and we shall no longer be practicing, Eisenburg.

Penn punched him in the side of the head, making Nick stumble and release him.

Penn dusted himself off and glared at Nick. Even I know better than that.

Nick growled.

Bryan laughed, accompanied by a few of the soldiers who practiced nearby. It is good nothing is bothering you.

The laughter would not have been quite so biting if Nick hadn’t heard his sister adding to it.

A wisp of Kiki’s sleeve slipped by as she darted away from the window. He rolled his eyes. No doubt she was off to report this to someone--the girl knew more about the happenings at the castle than anyone. Rumor had it servants came to her with their gossip.

He turned to Bryan, who was still leisurely sipping his ale, and gestured with his sword.

Come on then, von Thalunburg. The same for you.

Bryan shrugged. You know I do not use swords. He glanced at the window. I have more interesting talents.

He did not show off for the ladies like Penn, but then, Bryan never had to. Women naturally flocked to him. If only he could work out how to talk to them once they had. It was quite entertaining because women tended to cast him as the strong, silent type when in truth Bryan was simply too tongue-tied to spit out a complete sentence in the presence of a beautiful lady.

Bryan reached for the bow at his side and before Nick could more than blink, had fired an arrow at the stone wall next to the window.

Tormenting Kiki, on