Page 44 of Morfran, Dark Lord Reformed

Rapunzo hurriedly said, “Of course you have to stay! Sit, sit!” He ushered Morfran into a chair, set down a placemat for him, set a napkin onto his lap, and then brought out a dish that was indeed boeuf bourguignon escargot, the little snails curled up like tiny red commas on his plate. Bronwen he made sit clear at the opposite end of the table, and he gave her only a wilted parsnip by tossing it in her general direction.

Morfran politely tonged apart a snail and put it into his mouth. For being cooked by a madman locked in a tower, it was a mean dish. Still didn’t mean he wanted to be here. “So,” Morfran said, “I assume you don’t often get visitors?”

Rapunzo was in the seat next to him, except it was pulled right up alongside Morfran and the man was sitting sideways in it, so his thick knees were resting against Morfran’s leg and his face was less than a handbreadth away. He also wasn’t blinking.

“You’re my first visitors in eight years,” he breathed.

Morfran scooted his chair away. “I can see that.” Bronwen shot him an urging look. He sighed and gestured to her. “Look, my friend here—”

Rapunzo squinted his eyes. “You dare call her a friend?”

Annoyed, Morfran was about to ask, “What else should I call her?” when he saw the murderous look in Rapunzo’s eyes and quickly corrected course. “Fine. This semi-partial-but-not-really acquaintance of mine has been wronged by the same woman who stole your powers. Since these powers used to be yours, we were hoping you could help us remove a hex on her.”

“Why would I help a woman?” Rapunzo balked, and then threw an arm around Morfran and leaned in as if sharing a deep secret. “She likely came here to steal Randy and ransack my tower. We should throw her out the window.”

Morfran looked from Rapunzo’s distrustful face to Bronwen’s unhappy expression as a tight knot began to form in his chest. It was uncomfortable, seeing their suffering. He tried to stanch this discomfort by leaning towards Rapunzo and saying conspiratorially, “No, my friend, you’re not looking at this the right way. We should tell her how to remove the hex on her. Once it’s broken, she’ll be capable of killing Queen Ravana, who she’s vowed she wants to kill, anyways. You see where I’m going with this? We can pit the two women against each other, they’ll both kill each other, and boom. The world has two less women in it.”

Rapunzo looked amazed at the sound logic. “Genius thinking. I like the part where they both die.”

Bronwen had overheard it all, and she obviously did not find it amusing, judging by the way she glared at Morfran. Luckily she wasn’t stupid, so she kept quiet while Rapunzo continued nodding. “All right, no window. Yes, no window. She’ll die by killing another woman. You. Woman.”

“My name isn’t—”

“Your name is Woman,” Rapunzo asserted, and Bronwen only slumped in her chair farther, clearly furious about her ill treatment as a visitor. “The hex can only be lifted by a kiss from your true love.”

A pause, and then Morfran burst out laughing.

“You’re joking.” Bronwen jerked to her feet. “You have to be joking.”

“I’m not.” Rapunzo rose and fetched a green leather-bound book titled How to Use the Powers of the Two Magical Rings Bestowed Upon Thee (Edition Twelve), opening it halfway, where a chapter on hexes was, and read, “ ‘Jinxes, hexes, and curses that you lay upon anyone may only be broken by a kiss from that individual’s true love.’ ” He slammed it shut. “See?”

She was shaking her head roughly. “What about defeating the one who hexed them? Or finding some type of loophole of sorts? There’s always been ways around this—”

“No,” Rapunzo said. “Only a kiss. The sorceress who gave them to me was strictly by the book.” He scowled. “Stupid woman.”

Bronwen sank back into her chair, burying her face in her hands.

Morfran continued snickering. He tried to imagine clumsy, brave, ambitious Bronwen finding her true love and…and suddenly he’d stopped smiling. What type of fellow would that be? Likely an honorable, righteous, goody adventurer…someone like Gueldefore. Yet she didn’t like him in the slightest, she’d told him. He was pompous and arrogant and egotistical and…Oh no. He was describing himself. Did she view him like that? He turned to inquire just exactly what type of man they’d have to track down, and only then did he notice.

“Bronwen?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

Her shoulders were shaking. She dropped her hands after a few moments to show tears in her eyes. “I don’t have a true love anymore because he already died,” she whispered. “He died when I was younger. That’s the reason I went to Assassin Academy in the first place.”

Rapunzo and Morfran exchanged solemn looks.

“How’d he die?” Morfran asked.

“A woman?” Rapunzo prodded.

“No.” Bronwen wiped at her wet cheeks. “He was fighting Lord Morfran’s army at the Battle of Baçon. He…he stood up to him. He was the only one brave enough to. And in return that vile lord beheaded him.”

I’ve known men with ten times the bravery you have.

Rapunzo pointed at her. “Lord Morfran is the one who turned my true love, Ravana, against me! He seduced her and corrupted her, and that’s why she came and stole my powers. She said she wanted to impress him. If there’s anything I hate more than women, it’s him.” He clenched the leather book so tightly it erupted into a flutter of white pages.

Morfran sat ever so tensely in his chair, experiencing a thousand emotions at once. Why do I feel like such a bastard right now? And not a very cool one? Even more, why did the knowledge that she had a true love gut him like an axe hacking out his chest? Because of course someone had fallen in love with her, and of course she had fallen in love with someone brave and honest and selfless. It made him feel even more wretched than he did before.

“What am I supposed to do?” Bronwen asked to no one in particular. “I can’t do anything right anymore, not since Ravana cursed me. I’m no use to anybody if I can’t kill, and I’ve devoted my life so that one day I could kill Lord Morfran and Queen Ravana to get vengeance and now…” She looked dangerously close to erupting into sobs. “Maybe I should be tossed out the window.”