Chapter 10

He Heard the Miller's Boast

Holding his hood to prevent it from slipping, Rumplestiltskin inspected Cora's mother. The flickering candle revealed a gash on her forehead, patches of black and purple across her cheeks, and a trickle of blood down her chin. Whoever had taken a fist to her nose had wielded enough force to break it. Her eyes were so puffy he doubted she could see him even without his protective cloak.

Rumplestiltskin inhaled sharply. As the aroma of agony filled his nostrils, the fingers of his right hand began to tingle. "So… what tale is this?"

"Tale?" Cora laughed. "Why, a happy marriage, of course."

"Ah." Rumplestiltskin's hand began to glimmer, and he hid it inside his cloak. "This is the miller's work—your father's—the fool you said you loved."

"Oh, we both love Father. Truly, truly. What other choice have we ever had?"

When her mother groaned, Cora winced. She closed her eyes as if begging a higher power to stop the pain.

Good luck with that. The only power here is me. Rumplestiltskin pressed his hand against his thigh. The heat it radiated was sizzling. "Your mother's state is desperate, no mistake. What will you give me to heal her?"

"Give you? Why I—" Distractedly, Cora swiveled around—as though searching the shadows for a forgotten treasure. "I—I have nothing… nothing to give you… except… except…" She hung her head. "Except myself."

Cora's words pierced like a dagger. Rumplestiltskin swung around as if to look out the window. Back turned, he managed a snort. "Yourself? Hah. That's a coin of little worth." Unless it's freely given. When Cora whimpered, he squeezed his eyes shut. "But there is something of value you can give me—the same price as the last deal I made." He paused, schooling his face to indifference. Then, he turned. "Knowledge. Promise to answer three questions of my choosing and tonight your mother rests easy."

When Cora's mouth quivered, Rumplestiltskin widened his eyes. "No time to be cagey, dearie. This offer won't last long. If you prefer, I'll accept Prince Henry's secondborn—to keep his firstborn company."

"No. Wait. I agree." She drew a shaky breath. "Three questions. Yes."

"Deal." In the next instant, Rumplestiltskin shot out his hand, enveloping the cot in sparkling blue light. Once more, the woman moaned, but this time her anguish trailed off in a sigh. With a wave of his hand, her swelling shrank. Her cuts mended then disappeared. Wiggling his fingers, he returned the fragments of fractured bone and cartilage to their proper places until her nose looked as dainty as her daughter's. Meticulously, he repaired every broken capillary and whisked away the seeped blood that bruised her skin. He sensed older areas of damage, and he sent the magic to them as well.

Still aglow from the rush of power, Rumplestiltskin dropped his arm. "Time to settle accounts."

At no additional charge, Rumplestiltskin levitated the softly snoring woman off the cot and wafted her toward her daughter's bedroom. When she bumped an invisible barrier mid-air, he raised an eyebrow at Cora. "Fairy Meadow," she blurted out, and her mother sailed on through.

"So that's why you wanted a key spell," he said. "So your mother could lock herself away from your father."

"Only when he's drunk." Cora grimaced. "Which is nearly always. But when I tried to tell her, she wouldn't hear of it. 'Magic,' she said, 'always comes with a price.' Isn't that ridiculous? Any sensible person can see it's cheaper than the alternative."

Rumplestiltskin waggled his head. "And tonight, dearie, you got yourself a bargain."

Cora nodded. Still clutching the candle, she sank to the cot. "What do you want to know?"

Everything. Rumplestiltskin summoned a stool from beside the door. Then he scooted it across the wood plank floor until he sat knee-to-knee with Cora. "You're a talented liar, but you've been unmasked. If you lie to me now, I'll see it." I hope. He peered into her face. By every sign he knew, she seemed compliant. "Good. Question one: How did a bully's whelp like you snag a prince like Henry?"

"You started with an easy one." Glancing at Rumplestiltskin, Cora set the candle on the floor. Then she pointed at the flame and flicked it up to hang above them. "As you may have guessed, Father is not a good provider. Foraging for roots and greens has been my common pastime. Last spring after the snows melted, I saw the prince lead a riding party past a nearby pond. The next morning, I saw him ride past the pond again. On the third morning, he saw me naked in it, crying out that robbers had chased off my servant, snatched my clothes, stolen my horse, and left me helpless."

"Seriously?" Rumplestiltskin gaped. Then he giggled. "That worked?"

A smile twitched Cora's lips. She placed one arm across her bosom and the other lower down. "What do you think?"

Without Rumplestiltskin's say-so, Cora's gestures evoked a vision of a bathing beauty au naturel. Mm. In King Wilhelm's locked chamber, the sight of her flawless face with a single tear quivering at the corner of her eye had startled him into silence. And if I'd seen what was beneath that fluffy rose dress? He swallowed. "Thank you for your candor. Now for question two: How did you happen to involve me in your scheme to not just snag Henry but marry him as well?"

"Answering that will take a little longer." She gave a one-shoulder shrug. "That morning my wager paid off more richly than I'd imagined—courtesy of Princess Pellinore. While Henry stood there gawking, she begged a retainer to help her off her pony. Then she splashed through the water and flung her cloak around me." Cora touched her pink satin wrap. "I had a devil of a time removing the pond muck, but I couldn't let it go to waste."

"Indeed." What was casual charity to a royal would have been undreamt-of luxury to Cora. Rumplestiltskin looked aside. Once upon a time, his life had been like hers. Despite his endless hours of spinning and weaving, neither he nor his boy had ever worn new clothing. Many a year, Bae's birthday present had come from rummaging the Duke of the Frontlands' rag piles.

"To my surprise, sweet Pelly didn't stop there. She bundled me off to the castle, straight up to her private chamber. When she spied her brother hanging around beneath her window, she declared it a fairy tale come to life—nothing less than 'True Love.'"

Rumplestiltskin quirked an eyebrow. "And she didn't question whether your real identity might be less savory than it appeared?" Of course, neither did I.

"Never." Cora flashed him her little cat smirk. "I made up a story about coming from Damaria to visit my Aunt Birdie. On my next visit to Pelly, I found she'd turned my reasonable explanation into a whimsy of an enchanted sparrow guiding me to Wensumlea to find my true intended."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Pelly-Nelly-Nor. She has quite the imagination."

"Does she ever. The silly girl even talks to mice. She claims one of them reads her books." Cora rolled her eyes. "Chews them up, more likely."

Not necessarily. Over the years, Rumplestiltskin had done many a deal with an educated mouse. Their access to household secrets was unsurpassed. "And Henry?"

"You'd be shocked at how quickly he took up his sister's fantasy—"

Remembering you naked didn't hurt.

"—but King Wilhelm was another matter. To him, talk of true love meant nothing."

"Not without a sizable dowry." Rumplestiltskin laced his fingers. "And that's where I came in."

"Pelly's idea. I thought calling on the Dark One was crazy. She told me not to believe the rumors." Cora lowered her eyes, letting her long lashes brush her cheeks. "For once, Pelly was right."

Rumplestiltskin felt a familiar surge of longing. He crushed it. "Watch it, dearie. One more whiff of the stuff you've been peddling Henry and I'll consider our deal broken." Craning his head forward, he fixed his eyes on Cora's. "Don't imagine the knack to wiggle a flame makes you capable of mimicking the magic I wielded tonight. A healing spell miscast is more damaging than no magic at all."

Under Rumplestiltskin's stare, Cora seemed to wilt. "All right. I'll tell you exactly how it happened. No more, no less."

Good. Rumplestiltskin lifted his chin.

"Pellinore told me the 'pure of heart' had nothing to fear from you." Cora's forehead pinched together. "Can you see why her scheme had me worried?"

Rumplestiltskin felt a stirring of sympathy for the miller's daughter—shrewd, clever yet at the mercy of a bully. She'd risked her one treasure—her beautiful self—in the hope of ensnaring Prince Henry. How else could a penniless peasant girl like her find protection against a brute like the miller? And when she saw the chance to fulfill every little girl's dream of becoming a princess, of course she had to play her hand—even if it meant gambling with the Dark One.

"So," Rumplestiltskin said, "locking you up with a heap of straw on the one night I'd be in the castle—"

"—was Pelly's plan. The pretty words, too—she had me memorize them." Cora held his gaze as if throwing herself on his mercy. "I don't even know what malachite means."

Rumplestiltskin pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.

"Pelly told me to be straightforward about why I needed straw spun into gold—that you'd be happy to help the cause of true love—but I was too afraid."

Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes. "No poppycock. If there's one thing you never were until tonight, it's 'afraid.'"

"I mean I was too afraid you'd see through me. True love? I was out of my depth." Cora took a deep breath. "Then you did something that gave me confidence I could hold my own after all."

Frowning, Rumplestiltskin tilted his head. "What was that?"

"You ogled my breasts."

Ach. She noticed. Rumplestiltskin's eyelids fluttered as his cheeks flushed. And that's when she knew how to play me. "Touché. But in my defense, they are a pretty pair. Not looking would have been rude." And impossible. He coughed. "Last question: Knowing your plan was to marry Prince Henry, how did you imagine you could get away with pledging me your firstborn? You had to know I won't let you renege."

"Simple: You'd leave a changeling and no one but I would be the wiser… but that's not what you really want to know." Cora leaned closer. "Isn't your real question why I'd agree to such a deal?"

Cora's gaze was so intense, Rumplestiltskin knew lying was useless. Staggering how well she reads me. But before he could admit she was right, he heard a bump, bump, bump from outside the mill—someone running a stick along the bridge's wooden railing. Cora's glance darted to the window, and her chin quivered. Then he caught a snatch of a drinking song, and the flame she'd hung above them fell spluttering to the wick. When a loud thump rattled the floor below them, she flinched.

Covering her mouth with her hand, Cora whispered, "It's him."

In less than a minute, Cora had wriggled out of her satin wrap and silk gown. Rumplestiltskin sucked in his breath when he glimpsed the scanty rags she wore beneath.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she scurried across the room. Frantically, she stuffed her borrowed finery in the back of the broom closet and yanked on an ill-fitting brown shift and threadbare gray smock. As heavy footfalls clumped up the stairs, she wound a frayed scarf around her hair. Then she clasped her hands like a beggar. "Please! Please go! He can't see you here."

Rumplestiltskin touched his enchanted cloak. "Why would he? Does he have magic?"

The question seemed to take Cora by surprise. She blinked, her lips trembling. "I—I don't think so."

Poor child. To you, he does. Rumplestiltskin jiggled his head. "Do you think he has more magic than I?"

Cora started to open her mouth, but a fist on the door stopped her from answering. When the miller pounded, she rushed to open it. "Father! Father! Father dearest, I'm coming!"

Rumplestiltskin stood his ground.

As soon as Cora fumbled off the latch, the door burst inward and the miller towered over her. Rumplestiltskin could smell his rum breath from across the room. With his shaggy red hair and matted red beard, the man looked nothing like his daughter.

Before he even spoke, she hurried behind him and tugged his heavy black coat off his shoulders. Without a thank you, he stomped over to the fireplace and popped open the firepot on the mantle, tipped it to reveal a live coal then kicked the empty woodbin.

"I—I filled it yesterday," Cora stammered as she hung his coat on a peg. "I'll go out back right now and…" Her voice trailed off as the miller turned.

"Where have you been, girl? I didn't give you permission to leave."

"I—you were—were sleeping when I left, father. I didn't want to wake you."

"You were gone when I got up. You were gone all day. When you didn't come back to cook my supper—that was it. I thought your mother would know where you were." The miller paused. "She didn't."

Rumplestiltskin could see the words hit Cora like one of the punches her father had given her mother. By accepting his invitation to a card party, she'd brought on the beating.

"Father. Father dearest. I had—had business to…to…" Cora's voice seemed to cower in her throat.

"You trying to leave me again? Take your mother with you? Huh. I heard you two whispering. You think you found some suitor to take you away from me. Think again." The hulking man smacked his fist into his palm. "The fool will run off screaming just like the baker's boy, the potter, the goatherd, oh, all the others."

Under her breath, so faintly Rumplestiltskin almost didn't hear it, Cora murmured, "No, he won't."

Rumplestiltskin scowled. Prince Henry was a decent sort, considering he was a royal, but in the end he'd retreat. Maybe not from fear of Cora's father—the prince had a dozen knights at his command who could easily put down the lout. No. What Henry would run from was the sheer wretchedness of Cora's life. He'd find it too difficult to comprehend.

The miller took a step forward. "What was that, girl? Whispering again?"

"I—I have someone. I do. And he won't run screaming. He—he—" Cora clapped her hand to her mouth as if aghast at her own revelation. Eyes wide, she shrank against the wall.

Grinning, the miller stalked toward her, the wooden floor creaking with each step. When the man stopped to grope his belt buckle, Rumplestiltskin clenched his fists. Cora had begged him to remain hidden, but he wouldn't allow another beating. Living with such a father, it was a wonder she had no scars.

"I'm the only reason you get suitors, girl. I taught you everything you know. I don't spend my valuable time giving you lessons just so you can give that sweet honey to someone else."

At the miller's boast, Rumplestiltskin's jaw went slack. For a moment, what he'd heard made him numb.

Then the miller dropped his trousers. "You need a lesson, girl, to remember I'm the master."

"Enough!" Rumplestiltskin leapt across the astral plane, popping out between the miller and his daughter. He bent his head back to fix the hulking brute with his stare.

"W-w-who, w-w-who, w-w-who?" Hobbled by his own trousers, the miller stumbled backwards.

"Who? Why, the Dark One, of course." Rumplestiltskin's mouth widened in a jack-o'-lantern leer. He spread out his arms like a dragon ready to strike. On the bare hearth, fire roared to life. Wind gusted around him. Candle-less flames appeared across the ceiling, bobbing in the whirling air. "Now who's the master?"

Sniveling, the miller toppled to his knees. "You're the master. You are. You. Only you."

Rumplestiltskin studied the creature quailing before him. His florid face had blanched white. He sobbed as snot dribbled out his nose. His entire body began to shake. In a moment, an unpleasant smell signaled he'd wet his pants.

Gratifying, thought Rumplestiltskin, folding his arms and tapping his foot, and yet… not gratifying enough.

Taking a sideways pose, Rumplestiltskin jutted out his arm like a duelist landing a blow. Red smoke surrounded the miller. Inside the vortex, he started to shrink. His pale skin melted into a sickly beige. Then it grew slimy. As he saw the changes happening to him, he screamed.

That won't last long. Sure enough, as the miller's shirt and pants fell away and his back curved and hardened into a brown, spiral shell, he lost the ability to make human sounds. Soon, he didn't even gurgle.

By the time the miller reached the size of a rat, his eyes shot out on fragile stalks, and his limbs receded into a sticky belly. Still, he grew smaller. Finally, when the red smoke dissipated, he'd completely and utterly reached his true form: A snail.

Rumplestiltskin kicked aside the pile of stinking clothes so he could follow the miller's futile attempt to slime his way to safety. The true beauty of magic like this was that while transformation stripped the subject of all human faculties, their spirit remained aware.

Gratifying, and yet… Rumplestiltskin lifted his boot off the floor.

Behind him, he heard a yelp. An instant later, Cora grabbed him and yanked him back. "No. Please. You can't."

Rumplestiltskin's unspent rage pummeled his chest like torrents of water tumbling toward a cliff. "He's a monster, Cora. He needs to be gone."

"He may be a monster, but he's my father."

Rumplestiltskin released a grunt of pure animal frustration. His talons bit into his palms. His teeth gnashed together. To the ignorant, explosions of rage-fueled magic were incredible, impressive feats. Only he knew which task was harder—reining in the power once it had been unleashed. He stared at the snail and the insignificant silver trail he'd managed to make. On the one hand, the creature deserved obliteration more surely than had the careless cart man who'd bumped into Baelfire. On the other hand—to honor Bae—he'd promised himself to avoid doing harm that couldn't be undone.

Watching the snail, Rumplestiltskin took three long, calming breaths. Maybe a week or two in that pitiful state would be enough to dissuade the miller from his bullying ways. No matter what degradations he'd visited upon his daughter, she still didn't want him under her mentor's boot.

Rumplestiltskin twisted until he was facing Cora. "You're right, my dear. He's still your father."

Cora nodded, her dark eyes glittering. "Yes. He is. Let me step on him."