*Rapunzel*
I close the door behind him and turn. Horace has melted into the darkness. I can just see him, silhouetted against the starry sky. Rather than move toward him, I lean back against the door and, like a wanton, let my leg slip through my nightdress. “My prince,” I say. “I am surprised to have a visitor at this hour of night.”
Horace moves into the room. “I, too, am surprised.”
“What surprises you?” I remain where I am, willing him to come to me. Music exhilarates me; I have always known that. But I have never realized that it could drive a deeper intoxication, singing in my veins. This new, deeper one makes me want to play the man before me like an instrument. Or let him play me… I’m not certain. It’s an unfamiliar kind of madness, but just as all-encompassing.
Like the blood
