She takes a deep breath, knowing her words will reach everyone in the ballroom, and declares: “In honor of the future queen’s birthday, I, Princess Rapunzel, vow to restore the Starlight Spring.”
Fourteen
Eugene
“The sheeraudacity.”
Eugene tries not to smirk into an outrageously tiny sandwich. The reception ball has kicked off in earnest now, and Rapunzel has no shortage of intrigued partners on the dance floor—and no shortage of skeptics on its edges, such as the gossips clustered around the refreshments. Most of them take one look at him and lower their speculations to snide whispers, but others clearly want to make themselves heard.
Such as: Councilor Persevault, snarling into his champagne, “What would an outsider know about our island? Absurd!”
Councilor Laroux, the recipient of his tirade, shrugs.“The princess has a respectable command of the related fields of study. Perhaps she sees something we don’t.”
Eugene decides to be an unmitigated stinker and saunters up to Persevault. The man bristles, glowering. Even though he sees the physical similarity to Solena, the councilor’s all puff and no spinach, hand giving an underbaked twitch toward a saber hilt too polished to have seen much, if any, use.
Eugene holds his glare. Then, with utmost schmooze, he says, “Pardon my reach,” and leans over to snag a canapé from the platter behind Persevault.
“You are pardoned,” Persevault returns icily.
As Eugene stuffs the canapé into his mouth and turns on a heel, he sees Cressien deep in conversation with Councilor Teophine. Cressien’s face is showing the ironfisted neutrality of a man who’s dying inside. Eugene can’t blame him, considering they didn’t make it to the “By the way, there’s a giant mutant apple tree guzzling all the water from the Starlight Spring” segment of their brief pre-ball conference. He decides to have mercy on the minister and at least let him know Rapunzel’s vow is actually feasible.
On the way over, however, he gets distracted, first by the allure of a cheese fountain, and then—the quiet orders being given to two of the guards lining the wall behind him.
“…when Princess Rapunzel leaves, she’s to be intercepted at the guest wing and brought directly to the king for questioning. No harm is to come to her. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Eugene’s chest tightens. He makes himself linger casually by the cheese fountain—notthatbig of an ask, really—but watches out of the corner of his eye. A guard with a captain’s sash walks past, heading for another pair of guards, no doubt with the same orders.
Eugene finds Enver in the crowd. He looks pale, drawn, one hand fussing with the buttons of his waistcoat while he babbles away to Hughes.
Enver’s been lying for years. Decades. And now that Rapunzel’s calling his bluff, that raw edge is back in the king’s eyes: desperation.
Cressien can wait. Eugene needs to get Rapunzel out of here,fast.
Can he feign sick? No, Dr. Savary is here; she’ll catch him faking. Is there a terrace they can slip away to? No, the ballroom only has one far wall of windows overlooking Astera—no way out but the handful of guarded exits.
His eyes land on the dark spikes of champagne bottles in ice buckets at the far end of the refreshment spread. An idea sprouts. It’s risky, and if he gets caught—
Well. There’s no one to impress here. Even the rebels think he’s nothing more than a common thief.
Eugene swipes a final wedge of bread through the cheese fountain and mutters, “I’m so sorry. You were too good for this world.”
Two minutes of discreet tampering and light larceny later, Eugene has helped himself to a champagne bottle andPersevault’s ornamental saber, and destabilized the cheese fountain’s supportive base. He takes up position near the pyramid of champagne flutes and waits until he sees the cheese fountain start teetering.
Just as it begins to tip over, Eugene runs the saber up the bottle seam just the way an old friend taught him—
And the bottle mouth shears off with a crack, firing the cork and broken glass tip into the pyramid of glasses.
The champagne flutes descend in a terrible shattering cascade. It’s immediately followed by the cheese fountain explosively toppling to the floor, dragging a corner of the tablecloth with it. More platters and chafing dishes fly into the air with metallic clangs as screams break out. For a final touch, Eugene ducks behind a flower arrangement, pitches his voice into a falsetto, and yells,“THE PEOPLE’S DAGGER!”before shoving the arrangement into another table.
And that turns it from a mishap to a stampede.
Most of the attendees are on the dance floor and too far away to notice anything but the crashing and screams. Cries of“The People’s Dagger!”strike a match through the ballroom. Every guard converges on the king, searching the pandemonium for enemies that aren’t there. King Enver himself has gone from pale to bone white, eyes wide, expression terrible, almost—resigned. Not the scrambling panic Eugene expected.
But what matters is finding Rapunzel. He searches the crowd for her sparkling tiara and finds it—slipping through a far door, Verette all but dragging her out.
A hand locks around Eugene’s upper arm. “What in the name of every blessed corner of the continent do youthinkyou’re doing?” Cressien hisses.
