Coco forged through the Enchanted Wood using a sixth sense that led her to Rapunzel’s tower, shimmering in the sun like a mirage. She slipped through fragmented outer planes until  toeholds revealed themselves and she climbed to an open window. Peering inside, she saw her friend. 

“Who are you,” Rapunzel asked.

Coco cleared her throat. “I’m doing your hair.”

Rapunzel conjured a basin of water and Coco set to work. With a hairdresser’s gift for gab, Coco established that Rapunzel, a lookalike for her friend whose twin had been lost at birth, was that twin.

“Lost,” Rapunzel asked.

“Found,” said Coco.

The serf, intimidated by the palace representative’s rich velvet livery, sipped a cup of courage and rechecked his supplies. “You want straw? For spinning? It’ll never work.”

“The queen said straw. Strong stalks, not brittle.” The page shifted from one stockinged leg to the other, resisting the urge to hold his nose against the smell of manure from the fields. “What you drinking?”

“Try some. My own grog.” The farmer proferred his cup. “Flax. That’s it. Makes a nice linen. I got some presoaked, ready to spin.”

The page wiped his mouth. “I’ll take a sample, see what she says.”

Bette kicked her spiked heels to the side of the bed. The man she married had lost six wives under suspicious circumstances. One was her dear cousin, hence revenge was on the table. Rumor had it that secrets lay buried in a locked room deep in the castle dungeons. Bette had the key.

There were guards she would need to trick. Three in all. The first surveilled her bedroom door. A glutton, he was tempted by poisoned wine. The second took a bribe. The third let her through, happy to help her stab the evil prince with a carving knife.