She swallows hard. “No, that’s gone too.”
Is it sympathy sending a shadow through the king’s face, or disappointment?
“Are you certain?” he presses. “A power like that—I imagine it would change you forever. There’s truly nothing you can do?”
“I, uh.” Rapunzel’s stomach twists. “I can…draw your portrait?”
King Enver’s smile is cramped. “That’s…quite a talent as well.”
He doesn’t have to say it—she can read it in the drop of his shoulders, the averted gaze. This is a letdown.
Without her hair,sheis a letdown.
King Enver changes the subject. “So, what was your favorite part of the tour today?”
Thatshe can’t fall short on. “All of it,” she says in a rush. “The sunmills are incredible, and I’ve never seen anything like the solstice pavilions—oh, and Princess Verette told me the story behind her name! I love that legend!”
“I was worried it might be a bit trite, but her mother insisted,” Enver says warmly. “Her health wasn’t the best at the time, and she believed Verette was truly a blessing.”
“I’ve seen the white moth shells before, but in paint pigment,not as charms.” The second Rapunzel says it, she realizes she’s put her foot in it.
Sure enough, Cressien clears his throat, picking up the signal she didn’t mean to send. “Oh, yes, Her Highness has been on the lookout for those white seashells. Perhaps we can go inquire with one of the councilors—”
“Oh—no—” Rapunzel jumps in. “I mean, uh, different white shells! Not the ones we discussed yesterday!”
Cressien looks like he’s internally composing several new scripts for her to stick to, along with another paragraph for his next report. All he says is “I see.”
“The shells we use for verettesarewhite, though,” Enver says, pleasant but perplexed.
“They definitely are, and I think they’re really neat,” Rapunzel babbles.
Enver steps back with a forced laugh. “It’s a quaint tradition. My people do love their old stories, no matter how trite. I should go say hello to my councilors before they try to oust me. Hopefully young Herbert can join us soon.”
His departure leaves a mortified silence between Rapunzel and Minister Cressien, one she forces herself to break after an excruciating delay. “It could have gone worse?”
“Academically speaking,” Cressien says through teeth gritted tight as a treasury vault, “that is correct, Your Highness.” He heaves a sigh. “We should return to the guest wing to strategize for future…interactions.”
“Do we need to?” Rapunzel’s trying to keep a whine out ofher voice, but they already spent so much time at sea in etiquette lessons and strategy sessions. “I think I’m getting better at this.”
“Engagement with a monarch demands perfection,” the minister says coolly. “Even small talk, as you now know. What if he tries to negotiate aspects of trade agreements outside official channels? Or asks about our military strength? Or—what will you say when Fitzherbert misses thenextgathering?”
It’s one thing for Cressien to grillher, but she draws the line there. “Eugene hasneverlet me down,” Rapunzel says, a little heated. “I’m sure there’s a good reason he’s not here, and if he misses anything else, I’m sure it’ll also be for a good reason, and I’ll be happy to tell King Enver that if need be.”
All Cressien says is “I see,” which Rapunzel now understands to meanI don’t believe you.
“I’m going to walk around the gardens first,” she tells him, and doesn’t wait for his permission. There’s no point if she’s already getting another lecture as it is.
Rapunzel scans the garden as she strides away. The only other people she’s really spoken to are Councilor Teophine and the Councilor of the North, Katou Laroux, who are both engrossed in conversation already. Verette is nowhere in sight, and Rapunzel has the squirming feeling the other princess doesn’t want to talk to her anyway.
Instead she heads for the less crowded end of the gardens, slips around a corner, and keeps going until the party’s noise is muffled to a dull murmur and all the attendees are far behindher. Then she slips off her sandals with a hiss of relief and leans against a low stone wall, trying to work through the knot in her throat.
If she still had her hair, she could have fixed her father’s foot with a song.
If she still had her hair, she wouldn’t have disappointed King Enver.
How is she ever going to prove she’s enough without it?
Even now, she can imagine exactly what’s going into Cressien’s next report:Sloppy. Gullible. Naïve.And he wouldn’t even be wrong. So far she’s managed to upset both Enver and Verette in the space of a few hours.
