Page 3 of Locked
"She is! She's helping me be a better person, Baz."
"No. She's helping you be a betterprisoner."
I rolled my eyes. Not this again. "I know it sucks that we can't leave, but you know the law. I can't leave until she lets me. I have no family waiting for me, not a single penny to my name... besides, we have everything we could ever want here."
"Not right now we don't. You don't have sunlight. You don't have fresh air. Youneedthe outdoors to charge your energy."
"And next time I feel like bad-mouthing Mother on my blog, I can remember this and not do it. I can't bite the hand that feeds me, Basil. The hand that feeds us."
"That analogy doesn't apply when it's the only hand you ever see," he countered.
"I amnotarguing with my cat again. I'm taking a bath and washing my hair and I'm going to look fresh and not smelly when Mother gets here in the morning."
"Fine," he replied, turning and prancing off in the direction of the kitchen.
Basil meant well, but he was a cat. And therefore, he was kind of inherently selfish. I had to forgive him for that.
He'd been my only company in this tower since I was a little girl. He'd lived with me as long as I could remember. The day he'd come here was one of the fondest in my memory. Probably because it was the day after one of the worst.
I was a difficult child, and as a result, Mother had found the need to punish me even back then. I supposed I must have deserved it then, too. But, she had found it in her heart to forgive me, and to even surprise me with a gift once my punishment had been served.
Mother had been thrilled to present me with a talking kitten that year at Yule. They were becoming increasingly hard to find. And it was pure dumb luck that she found him at all. He was solid black, with big yellow eyes. And he'd imprinted on me almost immediately. It was like we were made to be companions.
He'd certainly saved me from a life of nothing. A life of terrible loneliness. It was hard to be lonely when your best friend was literally curled up on your feet. I didn't know what I'd do without him.
I turned off the water, replacing the brush on the side of the vanity and quickly disrobing. Waving my hand, I quickly lit some candles, which nearly drained me despite being an everyday sort of task.
I eased my way into the bath, laying back and sighing with pleasure as my muscles began to relax and loosen. My hand went instinctively to my throat, to wind around the chain.
The locket was charmed to remain closed. I couldn't open it no matter how much I tried, but I knew what was inside without having to look.
A lock of hair. From my birth-mother. I'd seen it when Mother had given me the locket. Platinum blonde, nearly white, and curly. The locket had been my birth-mother's as well, one of the only things remaining that Mother hadn't destroyed or kept from me.
The locket and Mother's stories were really the only things I had from my birth parents. I didn't even know their surname. I was just Rapunzel. No last name.
But definitely not as cool as Cher or Prince. My magic wasn't nearly up to snuff.
I sunk deeper into the warm water and relaxed in near contentment.
The bubbles were calming. Lavender and mint. A touch of vanilla from the plant I was growing in my greenhouse.
My heart leapt at the opportunity to see them again. Oh, how I had missed my plants!
If there was one thing a green witch loved more than the sun and the wind and the rain, it was the plants she could grow using them. The herbs that she lovingly raised from seed to seedlings. From seedlings to full grown plants. From those plants into potions and teas. Brews that helped one's mood improve. That helped everything from sore muscles to having a baby.
Not thatIwas in any market for the latter, mind.
But now that I thought about it, I wondered how different it might have been ifIhad been the witch my parents had encountered on that fateful evening and not Mother. I had no use for someone's first born child. I would have asked for something simple. Tuna steaks for Basil. Milk from a real cow, and not the stuff I conjured from hemp or almonds.
And they might still be alive, my parents. Not dead in a horrific fire that had consumed them when they'd attempted to hide me from Mother.
They weren't very smart people, but they had loved me. Mother had always insisted upon that. My stupid parents had loved me very much.
I let myself sink beneath the bubbles and water, let the warmth flood over me. With my eyes closed, I could pretend it was the sun. I could pretend for a moment that I wasn't in the insufferable darkness that I had been for the past two weeks.
But I had to breathe, unfortunately. And I rose back up out of the water, gulping in the air and gazing around my darkened bathroom.
The hall light flooded the floor and the glow from the candles actually made it possible for my eyes to focus without straining.
