On the other…how did a book that belonged to Asteran royalty make it all the way to his orphanage across the sea?
How does Solena know his parents didn’t abandon him?
Why is there something deeper than garden-variety concern lurking in Enver’s eyes? Something almost like…dread?
Eugene decides to try a cousin of the truth. “I think it was a misunderstanding, because they just let me go. I must look a lot like someone they know.”
“You were supposed to remain in the palace,” Cressien says icily.
“I had some free time and thought I’d go see if anyone’s selling those white shells Rapunzel was looking for.” Eugene doesn’t so much stress “white shells” as give the words a light bother. Cressien’s brows rise for a moment, but he doesn’t push further.
Enver’s expression, however, only darkens. “Where were you captured? Where did they take you?”
“I’m not sure,” Eugene fibs, since he’s made his way to the exact spot twice now. “It was near the import market, I think? I woke up in some kind of hideout, but they kept me blindfolded.”
“Are youcertainthey didn’t recognize you?” the king presses urgently as Princess Verette arrives at his elbow, her round face drawn, brown eyes wide.
Brown eyes just like Eugene’s.
King Enver’s voice snaps him back. “How many of them were there?”
Solena, Torch, Moon Eye, the fourth speaker…Eugene hedges again. “A couple, maybe?”
“Do you rememberanythingat all that could help us find them?” King Enver steps closer. “I cannot allow a threat like this to go unmet.”
Verette places her hand on Enver’s elbow. “Father, perhaps our guests might appreciate a moment to collect themselves? This sounds like quite the shock.”
King Enver pulls back, eyes closing. “Forgive me. Of course. For now, I will assign additional guards to the guest wing, in case this is…more than a simple case of mistaken identity.” He swallows. “I would also like you all to join Verette and me for dinner this evening. There is an important matter we must discuss.”
His gaze catches Eugene’s for a moment before he flinches, turns, and marches up the steps before anyone can get in another word.
Eugene’s heartbeat picks up.
This is—
Too much to be coincidence.
Too much to hope for.
Too much.
He knows how Flynn Rider would handle this: scheme, try to play both sides, try to have it all. No risk, no reward.
But the last time he operated that way, he wound up handdelivering Rapunzel back to Gothel and getting himself express shipped to the gallows. And he could have stopped it if he’d just trusted Rapunzel with the truth.
Guards usher them back to the guest wing in relative silence and double the numbers, which feels like an excessive security measure. (Unless…?) Cressien’s lips are pressed so tight together that Eugene knows he’s bottling up either a very long lecture or a lengthy cross-examination. When they reach their parlor and relative privacy, Eugene sees the minister’s mouth open—
Eugene doesn’t hesitate, just links his arms through Cressien’s and Rapunzel’s and drags them both into Cressien’s room as the minister sputters a protest. Then Eugene swings the door shut behind them, checks the doorjamb for the shadows of eavesdroppers, and finally turns to face the other two.
Flynn Rider might try to keep secrets, but Eugene—Eugene knows when he’s in over his head.
“I,” he begins, “have had anincrediblystrange day.”
Part Two
Moon Eye
Nine
