Read Rescuing Rapunzel for Free Online Page B

keep me entertained while she was gone–for I would need a vivid new dress in order to receive the present she was heading out to acquire.
    I ran my fingers over the fabrics, part of me wishing the greens were blues, but I said nothing, for it was a fine gift. “Will you be gone long?”
    “No longer than usual,” she replied as she moved about the room, picking up items here and there and putting them in the bag she carried on her shoulder.
    She seemed agitated, her movements jerky, and she whispered under her breath.
    “Is there anything I can do while you are gone?”
    “No,” she said. Then paused, tipping her head to the side, and stared at me with a very strange expression, one that gave me a shiver.
    “There is one thing…” she said.
    She walked toward the storeroom she used to mix and store her potions. There was a cabinet opposite the door, a small table on the left, and the walls were lined with jar-laden shelves.
    I hated going into the storeroom. It was so tiny I could not bring all my hair into the room. The overwhelming aroma of the many herbs had seeped into the walls, and it gave me a headache if I stayed too long, but I followed her inside anyway. I almost bumped into Mother as she came to a stop just past the center of the slim, rectangular room.
    “Here it is,” she said, gesturing to the cabinet.
    I stared in wonder as she pulled on the heavy piece of furniture. I went forward to help, but Mother waved me back and continued until she had moved the cabinet away from the wall.
    There was a door.
    “What is that?” I whispered. My heart thundered in my chest. How could there be a hidden door?
    “It is a door to the stairs.”
    I inhaled a breath. There were stairs out of the tower?
    Mother glared at me, her hand on her hip. “Do not look so surprised. How do you think I got in and out when you were a child?” She turned to the door. “It is very stiff, but it can be opened.” She tugged on it, so hard in fact that when the door opened–with a horrible scraping sound that rattled my teeth–she stumbled backward into me.
    I caught her in my arms and she righted herself. The door had opened enough to let a single person through and, in the dimness, I could make out stairs. Very dusty, very worn stairs. I blinked, trying to bring the room into focus, but the dust spinning in the air obscured everything.
    “Why are you showing me this?”
    “If someone does manage to get into the tower, you have a way to get out.” She stabbed one long, bony finger in my face. “It is an escape, no more, no less. The stairs are old and worn. One misstep and they will break under you.” She pressed on one with her toe. The wood crackled under her foot and little shavings came off the edge, illustrating their fragility.
    It sent shivers down my spine.
    “They may only stand one trip down,” she said. And again, she brought her bony finger to my face. “You need not concern yourself with them unless your life is in peril. Do you understand?”
    I nodded.
    “Do you understand?” She grabbed my shoulders and shook me.
    “Y-yes…Mother.”
    She released me. “Good.” She gestured for me to leave the room. I backed out, tugging my hair with me, my heart hammering in my chest. Mother followed me, shutting the door behind her.
    As she walked through the rest of the tower, picking up the bag she had packed for her journey, she muttered to herself. “There is something afoot in the woods. I can feel it in my bones.” She did not look at me as she fastened her robe, tucking her hair into the hood as she pulled it over her head. “I cannot lose now, not at this point. The hardest part is finished.”
    “What hardest part, Mother?” I asked, stepping to her side.
    She snapped her eyes to mine, as if she had not even remembered I was in the room. “Do not concern yourself.” She gestured to the fabrics she had given me. “Make the best dress you know how to make, for you will be presented after I