Yesterday, when he met Councilor Teophine on the ship, he thought she was only put off by his lack of title. That it was impossible for her reaction to be recognition instead of distaste.
Now the question isn’t whether she knew his name. It’s whether “Fitzherbert” is even a real one.
Solena’s here, in Astera, despite not being in their records. She’s snuck into an abandoned store, the same one that was just exited by the stranger who somehow knew Eugene on sight.
Just like Hughes did.
Just like the king did.
Eugene hopes Rapunzel’s tour wraps up within the hour, because if he can’t talk with her about this pronto, he’s fairly sure his head’s going to explode.
Max whickers a warning. Eugene retreats to their hiding spot, and another cloaked figure comes along, this one practicing better hood discipline than Solena and Sulian. Eugene can’t make out a face, but he does spot a scar on the person’s right hand, a shiny dark sunburst below bony white knuckles.
And this time, he sees the figure wrap that hand around the door’s pull handle andtwist. The iron bar rotates, moving a disk-shaped section of the door’s wood with it. The figure pushes the bar so that the disk sinks deeper into the wood.
A section of the wall beside the door swings inward, admitting the visitor, then silently seals shut behind them. By the time Eugene looks back to the handle, it’s already returned to its former position, the edge of the disk blending perfectly into the door.
Sothat’show to get in.
Max headbutts Eugene’s shoulder. Eugene nods and whispers, “Yeah, we need Pascal.” Strolling right into whatever this is would almost certainly end badly, but the chameleon can scout ahead.
The whole ride back to the palace, Eugene’s head clamors with a thousand conspiracies and questions. Why isn’t Solena in the records when she’s clearly in Astera? Was her hair always that silver? What’s hiding behind the storefront?
Is his last name even Fitzherbert, or did someone just makeit up?Solena? His earliest memories are from the orphanage, and she was always there—
They reach the palace before he knows it. “I’m going to get the frog,” he tells Max distractedly, hitching him by the stables.
But when he returns from the guest wing with Pascal in his satchel, Sulian the stable master is unsaddling Max in the yard, a furrow in his brow. Eugene makes some recalculations, then saunters up, nonchalant. “Hey, didn’t catch your name earlier—I’m Eugene.”
“Master Fitzherbert,” Sulian says a bit too quickly, touching fingers to his forehead in greeting. For the most part, he’s recovered from earlier, maintaining a bland demeanor; Eugene can’t tell if he’s slipped in calling him Fitzherbert. His last name could have gotten around the palace by now, but it could have also been exactly what Sulian ran to the storefront to discuss. “Do you require this horse?”
“Actually, I was hoping you could tell me how to get to the kitchens. Acute case of the pre-lunch snackies.”
Sulian gives him clipped, terse directions, and leads Max into the stables. On his way to the kitchens, Eugene helps himself to a scullion’s work clothes from a storage closet and a bushel basket from the laundry, hiding Pascal and his satchel under a heap of towels. From what he’s seen, everyone’s hair goes white by their thirties here, so he dusts a fistful of ash from a cold hearth through his hair until it’s about the right shade of pewter for an Asteran his age.
After that, he just has to follow other bustling servants to a much more modest palace gate, and look like he’s a man on a mission as he trails them down into the city once more.
Eugene would be lying if he claimed he didn’t miss this sometimes—the costumes and the sneaking and the gleeful little buzz of danger. Maybe it’ll help him adjust when Rapunzel’s parents finally give him the boot.
Though…
The king, his chamberlain, and at least some palace staff already know him somehow.
His name seemsheavily influencedby the front for what looks like a secret gathering spot.
He has a book from a private royal collection.
And one of the women who raised him clearly has more of a history with Astera than she ever let on.
Eugene wouldalsobe lying if he said his imagination wasn’t already running wild with what that could mean. When he started calling himself Flynn Rider, it was half because “Eugene Fitzherbert” didn’t make for a compelling Wanted poster and half because, well, when he wanted to stop being Flynn, hecould. Flynn wasn’t real, not like Eugene. The name could be dropped like any other disguise.
It never occurred to him that “Eugene Fitzherbert” might be a mask he didn’t choose.
If there’s more to his story than just being a thief and an orphan—if his family isanythingto speak of—maybe Rapunzel’s parents will tolerate him for more than a month or two.
It takes a bit of wandering to find the dry fountain again, then the abandoned storefront of Herbert & Fitz. Eugene ducks behind the same corner as before and kneels to lower Pascal to the ground. The noon sun overhead has warmed the cobblestones enough to be tolerable for a chameleon, even if it also means Eugene’s time is running short.
“You can hide by the doorway,” he says, “and wait until the secret entrance opens. Rapunzel and I have some kind of garden party later, so we have an hour at most. Just go in, scope out what’s going on, and come back as fast as you can, okay?”
