The lull nevertheless persists, until Cressien manages an excruciating pivot: “I believe we’ve covered tomorrow’s plans. What does Her Highness’s schedule look like for Sunday?”
“That will be the official reception ball in honor of your visit,” Teophine says with a faint whiff of relief, and continues down the itinerary.
But the rest of dinner remains stilted, and Eugene isn’t sure whether to be put off or happy that most of the attendees focus on Rapunzel and Cressien, not him. The king’s chamberlain appears at the end of dessert, still as hound-faced as before.
“His Majesty conveys his apologies once more,” the man drones. “He is still taken ill, and wishes to rest before joining you on the tour tomorrow.”
“How unfortunate,” Verette says stiffly. “Thank you, Hughes.”
The chamberlain—Hughes, Eugene supposes—escorts them to the guest wing once the table has been cleared, carrying on about the masonry and architecture and other historical things Eugene has approximately zero interest in. Rapunzel’s nodding along and studying the stonework, so for her sake, he at least tries to look like he’s paying attention.
As they pass down a window-lined corridor overlooking the gardens, a dab of orange flame catches Eugene’s eye below. Three figures are striding across a manicured lawn by torchlight: two in the gray uniforms of palace guards, and one…one in a cloak of spotless midnight blue, and a silver crown that gleams against snow-white hair.
It’s not the lie that bothers Eugene, not really; anyone could see the king wasn’t really sick.
What bothers him is that Enver lied for areason. Just like he invited Rapunzel here for a reason.
The king is hiding something.
And if he wanted it to stay hidden, he never should have let Eugene through the gate.
Five
Rapunzel
Shawl? Check.
Shoes? Unfortunately, check.
Satchel full of art supplies just in case there’s a lull in this morning’s tour and she can sneak in an architecture study? Check.
Rapunzel runs a hand through her hair, wondering if it will ever grow long enough to tie back again, then takes one more glance at the mirror in her guest room and—
Gently pries the chameleon from her shoulder and sets him on the bed. “I’m sorry, Pascal, but youknowit’s too chilly for you.”
The problem is the colder it gets, the groggier Pascalbecomes, so he only starts plodding sleepily across the bedspread toward her once more.
There’s a knock at the door. She opens it to find Eugene waiting in the parlor that connects her quarters, his, and Cressien’s. He points to her satchel. “Is he allowed to come with you?”
Rapunzel looks down. Pascal is doing his drowsiest attempt at blending in to the purple fabric, which renders him a mottled magenta. “No,” she sighs. “How about you?”
“Apparently”—Eugene makes air quotes—“ ‘Princess Verette prefers small parties,’ so no. I’ll keep an eye on your frog.” Then he sobers. “Be on the lookout today. I think they’re hiding something from us. After all that fuss about Enver being sick, I saw him trotting around the gardens last night, fit as a fiddle.”
There’s a creak from Cressien’s quarters, though his door stays closed.
Rapunzel quickly passes Pascal to Eugene, speaking low. “I’ll be careful. Can you try to figure out where your book came from while we’re out? The royal seal has to meansomething.”
“I’m on it.” Eugene hides Pascal behind his back as Cressien’s door opens.
The minister steps out, regarding them both with faint misgiving, but all he says is “Good morning, Your Highness.”
“Good morning!” Rapunzel chirps.
“Our schedule has us touring the city most of the day,” Minister Cressien recites, apparently from memory, “andreturning for a garden party in the late afternoon, where the three of us will be introduced to various Asteran dignitaries. Fitzherbert, I would suggest”—he sayssuggestlike he means anything but—“that you stay within the palace grounds today.”
“Maybe you can check on Max,” Rapunzel offers. The white stallion wasn’t exactly thrilled about the ocean voyage, but as a secret security measure, he seemed to understand his assignment.
There’s another knock, this time at the parlor door. It swings open to admit Hughes, the king’s chamberlain. “The king and princess are ready to depart, Your Highness.”
