This time, Eugene ispositivehe isn’t imagining the shadow that steals through the man’s expression, even if it disappears as quickly as it did from Teophine’s.
“Princess Rapunzel,” he rumbles, “I am King Enver. On behalf of my kingdom, please allow me to welcome you to Astera.”
Rapunzel’s recovered her grasp on formal greetings, even if she hasn’t quite eliminated the wobble from her curtsy. The words sound almosttooformal, in fact, because Eugene heard her practice them for Cressien at least a hundred times. “Your Majesty, thank you so much for your gracious invitation. I’m truly thrilled to be part of your history.”
When Enver strides closer, Eugene can see who Verette got her brown eyes from. “The honor is all ours. Your extraordinary story reached even our shores, and we are overjoyed the lost princess herself could attend Verette’s celebration.” He nods to Cressien. “And I see you’ve brought company!”
Eugene feels the prickle of a stare. As Rapunzel introduces the minister, he skims a glance over the steps and—there. It’s the king’s chamberlain, a narrow, angular man who somehow reminds Eugene simultaneously of a weeping willow and a hound dog. He’s white as a sheet and almost gawking.
“—and my companion, Eugene,” Rapunzel’s voice cuts in.
That’s his cue. Eugene steps up to Rapunzel’s side and bows. “Eugene Fitzherbert, Your Majesty. It’s an honor to meet you.”
A taut quiet falls. The chamberlain isn’t the only one pale as the grave now.
“All mine,” King Enver says blankly. Then he swallows. “The—the honor’s all mine, that is. I—I’m sorry, please excuse me.”
He abruptly turns on a heel and climbs the steps, into the palace. After a beat, his chamberlain follows, and then so does Councilor Teophine.
Eugene leans closer to Cressien and mutters out of the side of his mouth, “For the record, I have absolutely no idea what’s happening.”
For once, Cressien doesn’t hassle him, only murmuring, “Nor do I.” Before Eugene can relax, he adds tersely, “Donothingto make this worse.”
Councilor Teophine reemerges to glide down the stairs. “I’m afraid His Majesty’s lunch is disagreeing with him,” she says smoothly. “He sends his apologies and wishes for us to proceed without him to the welcoming banquet.”
Eugene doesn’t buy the excuse. Even Princess Verette’s frown is lightly salted with doubt.
An hour later, the princess is doing a better job playing the composed hostess, but Eugene’s misgivings are only compounding. They’ve been ushered to a banquet hall and introduced to the other four members of the Cardinal Council, whose names and titles Eugene did not retain past the appetizer course.
Save for one. Erwan Persevault, Councilor of the West and Master of Seas, which apparently means he commands the navy and controls the harbor. And even though Eugene has never seen this man in his life…he can’t shake the feeling that he knows Persevault’s face somehow.
But that should be impossible. Right?
Almost as impossible as a book with the Asteran king’s seal winding up in an orphanage a sea away.
“…and then following tomorrow’s tour of the Northeast Secondary Sunmill, we will proceed to the Hall of Administration for a guided review of each councilor’s wing,” Teophine announces, reading off a dossier from her seat at Rapunzel’s elbow. From here, Eugene can seeFridaytastefully calligraphed at the paper’s head.
Rapunzel, halfway through a crab puff, swallows and asks, “Is that when I’m supposed to address the council?”
Teophine’s brow wrinkles. “No, I believe that’s Monday—” She flips through densely packed pages labeledSaturday,Sunday, then, after a beat,Monday. “Oh, no, it’s Tuesday. Monday is your tour of the Asteran Royal University with Councilor Laroux.”
“Sounds like you’ll be busy,” Eugene remarks.
Rapunzel is frantically chewing the other half of the crabpuff. After a brief delay, she asks, “Can you see if Eugene can join me for anything?”
Cressien, the first human Eugene has ever seen eat a crab puff with a knife and fork, coughs in rebuke with a surgeon’s precision. “It may be at our hosts’ discretion, Your Highness.”
Rapunzel turns pink, which Eugene would find adorable if not for the circumstances. (Nope, actually, it’s still adorable.) “Ah.” As servers begin filing in, bearing platters of butter-poached lobster, steaming mussels in cream sauce, strips of cold smoked bass, and more, she lights up—then pauses, looking at the empty seat by Verette. “Should we wait for the queen?”
Verette’s fork clatters on her plate.
Another silence falls, this time over the banquet table. The servers hurriedly set their platters down and step back to the walls. Cressien looks like he’s about to commandeer their galleon and return home on his own.
“The queen passed a very long time ago, Your Highness,” Councilor Teophine says softly.
Rapunzel covers her mouth. “I’m—I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t be,” Verette says, betrayed by a clip to her words. “It’s not as if we sent word out.”
