Golden Braids and Dragon Blades: Steampunk Rapunzel

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I stood in the dark under the shadow of the hazel tree. Through the window of their second-floor apartment situated above the fishmonger’s shop, I saw her pace the small flat. She wouldn’t be able to see me, just like he—the father, if you could call him that—had not when he’d come to steal from my garden. I shook my head. Such low people. I fingered the amulet hanging from my neck, a slim metal shard dangling from a braid of silver hair.

I watched her as I had done these nine long months. She was tall and lanky, her brown curls stuffed up under a scarf. She wore an apron over a drab brown dress. Only her massive stomach, protruding like an infection, gave her body any shape. She walked back and forth across the small space, cursing like a sailor, then put one finger to one nostril and blew her nose onto the floor.

I squeezed the amulet in my hand, feeling the metal dig into my palm.

Are you sure? Are you sure this—this—is sacred blood?

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