“Rapunzel!” Tristan tried to shout and whisper at the same time so as not to get caught. His voice was going hoarse with the effort.

Flinging another pebble at the window, he bit the inside of his cheek, hoping he was aiming for the right one. As soon as night had fallen, he’d snuck next door—crept through the bush like a commando warrior and scouted out the house. The tower window wasn’t an option, so he had to find her bedroom. He didn’t know the house well, but Helena had mentioned that her room was beneath them. They’d been sitting on the sofa at the time, so Tristan snuck around the other side of the house, lined up with what he hoped was her bedroom window, and started throwing pebbles.

“Rapunzel!” he whisper-barked again.

One more stone throw and a dim light flicked on. It must have been a lamp because the glow was soft, only growing slightly when the curtain parted.

Helena’s pretty face popped into view. Tristan could hardly see her, but he was sure her lips parted with surprise before she unlatched the window and threw it open.

Her voice was high with surprise. “Tristan? What are you doing here?”

“Rapunzel.” He spread his arms wide. “Let down your hair.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand before flashing him a desperate look of worry.

“Please,” he whispered. “I have to see you again.”

Her expression melted to a swoon that had her biting her lower lip and disappearing inside. Tristan bounced from one foot to the next, chewing his cheek raw as he kept an eye out for the dragon.

What felt like an eternity later, two white sheets that had been tied together were thrown from the window. Tristan jumped up and grabbed the rope, grunting as he pulled himself up. He reached the lip of the slanted roof and scrambled to Helena’s window.

Clutching the edge of the sill, he leaned his head inside. His face was captured by her long, soft fingers, and before he could even speak her lips were on his. They were supple and warm, and he melted against them, breathing in her scent and floating out of time for a moment.

She pulled back and pressed her forehead against his. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I can’t stay away. You have to let me in.”

She stole a look over her shoulder, eyeing the bedroom door. “You know I can’t. It’s too risky.”

He cupped her cheek, caressing her delicate jaw with his thumb. “Then come with me.”

“Run away?” She tried to step out of his grasp, but he caught the back of her neck and held her steady.

“Just for tonight.” He grinned. “One date. Please, let me show you.”

Her forehead crinkled and she brushed her fingers down his cheek.

“I’ll have you home by midnight, I promise.” He winked, making her lips twitch with a grin.

“Mother is already in bed. She’s taken her sleeping herbs too, so I guess it would be safe enough, but…” Her face bunched with indecision.

“I just want to give you a few more paper cranes, that’s all. One night, Helena. Please.”

That did it. The paper cranes thing. She was all over that.

Her eyes began to dance, her lips rising into a radiant grin.

“Let me get dressed.” She spun away and Tristan dipped back down onto the roof to give her some privacy.

More and more stars were littering the sky as night set in. Tristan grinned, gazing up at the brilliant landscape, grateful for the crystal-clear night. The air was definitely getting warm, that harsh winter chill being replaced with a fresh spring breeze. Blossoms were budding on trees and the hope of summer flittered through the air.

Tristan smiled. He wanted everything about the date to be perfect. There was a chance this was the only one she’d ever get. He had to make it count.

“I’m ready.” She appeared behind the curtain again, looking exquisite in a pale pink dress that hugged the curves of her torso before floating down to her knees.

“You look like a princess.” He grinned.

“Well, you did call me Rapunzel.” She brushed a long lock of hair over her shoulder and gave him a shy smile.

“Come on.” He shimmied to the side and held out his hand, helping her through the wooden frame. Her ballet slippers skidded on the slate shingles. She yelped and flailed.

Tristan reached for her, catching her against his side and holding her close. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Climb on my back.”

Her arms were taut wire as she did so, her legs wrapping around his hips. Her breath teased his neck as she clung to him, making Tristan smile.

Not wanting to scare her, he took his time, gently descending the roof and slipping down the side of the house. He let go of the sheet and landed with a light thud. Helena’s arms tensed around his throat but then loosened as she slid off his back.

She looked around her, fear and wonder playing over her features. “I haven’t been outside like this for six years. I’ve grown so much in that time, you’d think the world would seem a little smaller.” She looked up at the sky, a soft breath whistling out of her. “But it’s so big.”

Tristan took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll keep you safe.”

Her head bobbed like a jackknife but she smiled, squeezing his hand and letting him lead her off the property.

They eased out the gate, wincing at its soft creak, then hit the sidewalk and headed down the road. Tristan wanted to take her into town. Church Street Marketplace was always so magical at night and Friday was open with market stalls and that happy end-of-the-week buzz that seemed contagious. Helena would love it.

Her fingers remained tightly clasped within his, her muscles growing more taut with each step down the darkened streets. Squeezing her digits, he swung their arms and tried to distract her with talk of something she’d love.

“So, we’ve started a poetry unit a school.”

Her gaze snapped his way. “Oh, how wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Tristan’s chuckle was terse and sarcastic.

Helena ignored his derogatory tone and smiled. “Do you have an assignment?”

Tristan nodded. “We have to analyze a poem.”

Her hand captured his arm, squeezing his elbow tightly. “What are you going to pick?” Distracted by the literary adventure, Helena’s eyes began to dance, her tight fear making room for her passion.

“I was going to ask you.”

“Hmmm.” She looked to the sky, her cheeks puffing out while she thought. She studied the wondrous expanse above them, the twinkling diamonds in the night and whispered, “The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas. The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, and the highwayman came riding—riding—riding—The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.”

The magical way she said the lines stirred Tristan’s heart. He gazed down at her, studying every inch of her perfect face. “That sounds awesome. What poem is that?”

“‘The Highwayman’ by Alfred Noyes.” She smiled. “You must choose it. It’s a tragic, beautiful tale of love, passion, and chivalry.”

Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “There’s death in it, isn’t there?”

Helena giggled at his sardonic tone, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Tragedies make the most compelling stories, Tristan, really they do.”

He shook his head with a snicker. “I’ll think about it.”

“I wish I could help you with the assignment,” she whispered.

“We could rewrite the ending,” he murmured.

Helena’s cheek rose on his shoulder. He didn’t have to see her smile to feel the warmth of it.

“I’ve missed you.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “How’ve you been?”

She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand as they turned the corner, nearing the middle of town.

“Lonely. My stories and imagination were always enough…until I met you.”

He nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, Helena. I can still be here for you, if you let me.”

They came to a busier road and paused to let the traffic pass. Helena’s nostrils flared, her wide eyes drinking in the zip of cars and flickering streetlights. “Let’s see if we survive this night first, shall we?”

He chuckled, pulling their hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles. She rested her head against his shoulder once more, but the second they turned the corner and hit Church Street Marketplace, her head popped up with a delighted laugh.

“Oh, Tristan. It’s beautiful.”

The radiant wonder on her face made Tristan glow. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face as she drank in the delight of the quaint walking street. Trees lined the cobbled walkway, dressed up with golden, glowing fairy lights. People milled around the market stalls, eating mouth-watering goodies and sipping on hot apple cider. The smell of fresh baking and cinnamon floated in the air around them.

A group of young women passed by, talking a mile a minute and swooning over a necklace that one of them had just purchased. Helena jumped out of the way, snuggling against Tristan. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“If it’s too much, we can find somewhere quieter.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I want to see.”

He squeezed her against him and led her through the throng. Her arm wrapped around his waist and she curled her fingers into his sweater. He was her protector for the night and he wouldn’t have it any other way. They ambled along in no particular hurry. The first thing Tristan bought her was a hot cocoa, creamy and peppered with mini marshmallows. The moans of pleasure she made while drinking it were enough for him to offer to buy her another one, but she refused, instead drawn towards a stall of handmade jewelry.

The little table was covered with necklaces and bracelets, and the beads were colorful and unique—all different shapes, sizes, and combinations. Helena touched the exquisite creations.

“These are amazing.” She lifted a necklace, marveling at the shiny beads. “You made these yourself?”

The shop owner—an older lady with wrinkled skin and wild hair held off her face with a long scarf—nodded with a grin. “Yes.”

“Such talent.”

The shop owner blushed. “Thank you.”

“A master craftswoman.” Helena grinned. “This jewelry is fit for a queen.”

The shop owner chuckled, her shoulders rising in a bashful shrug.

Tristan couldn’t help marveling at Helena’s beautiful spirit. She’d been trapped in a tower for six years and the second she was set free she was able to spread her sunshine like a sweet fragrance. It was a sin that her mother kept her locked away. The world deserved Helena’s light.

A dark rage spiked through Tristan as he thought of the unfairness of it all, but it was tempered by Helena’s sweet laughter.

Running his hand up her back, he lightly kneaded her neck and whispered into her ear, “Choose one.”

She turned to him, catching her breath and automatically shaking her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Please.” Tristan touched his nose to her cheek. “I want you to have one, to remember this night.”

Her lips rose with a smile. “I can assure you, nothing will make me forget this night.”

“Still. I want you to have something.”

Pressing her lips together, she looked back at the stall, eyeing the merchandise with longing before turning back to him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Tristan pulled out his wallet. “Choose what you like.”

Tristan wondered if she’d ever had a Christmas the way she was looking at the stall and hesitating over buying such a small trinket. Her fingers ran over the different necklaces, finally pausing on a brown leather band that held an oval. Painted on the golden-colored disk was the silhouette of a bird flying free.

“That’s it,” Tristan whispered. “That’s the one you should have.” He brushed her hair over her shoulder, leaning his chin in its place and sliding his arm around her waist. “It’s perfect for you.”

She clutched it in her hand and nodded. Tristan paid the stall owner and helped Helena put the necklace on. It hung just above her perfect breasts. She ran her fingers down the leather and pressed the disk against her skin.

“I love it. Thank you.” Placing a sweet kiss on his lips, she wrapped her arms around him and he lifted her off the ground, spinning her gently before placing her back down and walking on.

He kept his arm around her waist as much as he could, delighting in her laughter, her wonder and the brightness of her smile.