King Enver bows. Her curtsy is impeccable. And when the orchestra begins to play, Rapunzel steps into the dance just the way she remembers.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed your time in Astera thus far, Your Highness.” There’s a faintly wooden edge to Enver’s voice.
Rapunzel tries to study his features without being obvious. She’s heard of infants being betrothed, but even if that were the case with Gaelle and Enver, he doesn’t look like he’s fifty. White hair aside, he doesn’t even look a day over forty. “I’ve already learned so much,” she says, hedging.
“Yes, I imagine it may get overwhelming.” His words have afamiliar clip, one she can’t quite place. “Shut away for eighteen years. The real world must be a bit much to take, sometimes.”
Rapunzel’s neck prickles. She tells herself it’s just the cold. “Sometimes.”
“You know,” Enver says, swinging her into a turn, “something occurred to me, and I wonder if you or your parents have considered it. Your magic came from the sundrop flower, correct?”
Eugene and Verette are waltzing nearby. Rapunzel feels Verette’s stare.
“Yes, but it’s gone now.”Like I said yesterday,Rapunzel silently adds.
“How did that happen?”
Rapunzel turns a wince into an uncomfortable shrug. “It went away when my hair was cut—”
“No,” Enver interrupts. “I mean the flower. It was also destroyed?”
Rapunzel swallows. “I—I’m not sure—I think so—”
“Did you ever return to where the magic flower was found?” Enver pushes. “Perhaps another grew in its place. You might be able to reclaim your power.”
It’s the same hint of impatience that Gothel used to have. Rapunzel hears it now. She’d climb in the tower window and rush through the perfunctory small talk, not really listening, then shove the hairbrush into Rapunzel’s hand.
Verette’s voice suddenly cuts in. “I believe it’s time for us to trade partners.”
She and Eugene have moved closer. Eugene catches Rapunzel’s eye with aneverything good?look; Verette’s expression has regained that manufactured calm.
Enver’s calm, however, seems to be wearing thinner. “Not for a few more turns, sweetheart.”
“The song’s halfway through—”
“Now, Verette, really. In a few days, you’ll have a whole hall full of people giving you blessings and invitations and pledging their deeds in your name.” A trace of reproach steals through Enver’s face. “If you can’t let someone else be the center of attention for one night, perhaps you’re not as ready for the crown as I thought.”
Verette goes pale.
Rapunzel may have tried her best not to see Gothel in Enver’s actions. But she hears Gothel in his every word.
She doesn’t have a frying pan handy, so she deploys the next best thing and steps with all her weight on Enver’s boot toe.
“Oh, I amsosorry,” she lies as he stumbles and lets go of her. “I’m still learning how to dance! Madame Frangeline would kill me if she knew!”
Eugene turns his face away, transparently trying not to laugh. Verette gawks at Rapunzel like she’s grown a unicorn horn, the white shell moths on her hair ornaments twinkling under the chandeliers.
Something falls into place, then, the missing piece of the greater picture. It’s so enormous, Rapunzel both resents that it took so long to see it and understands precisely why it did.
She looks from Enver to Verette, and makes a decision Cressien may yet strangle her for.
Maybe she doesn’t have the political savvy just yet; maybe she doesn’t have the magic she used to. But she still wants to help. Shecanstill help.
Even though it went unspoken, Rapunzel swore a week ago she’d make her mother proud; that after eighteen years, she’d be everything they’ve dreamed of. And she never,everbreaks her promises.
“I’d like to make a pledge early,” Rapunzel announces, raising her voice so it carries through the entire room. The orchestra falls silent. Eugene looks at her like she might have actually smuggled in a frying pan.
And to be fair, diplomatically speaking, this is pretty much the same thing.
