The next report contains similarly blunt remarks.
…The princess does not appear to grasp the seriousness of engaging with foreign nobility. Her natural curiosity has unfortunately led to her asking invasive questions of both King Enver and Princess Verette, and hereccentricitycapricefree spirit has just now led her to hare off, on horseback, from a gathering with Asteran dignitaries, supposedly in pursuit of Fitzherbert….
Her throat hurts as she picks up the last report. It’s slightly tempered but…not what she hoped.
…and Princess Rapunzel has handled these mounting challenges to the best of her ability, which does her credit. However, for all her good intentions, I fear she simply does not have the instincts for foreign affairs. I cannot recommend sending her abroad again for a very, very long time.
The parchment rattles against the tabletop as she sets it down, eyes burning.
Eugene’s arm wraps around her shoulders. “Who cares what a fussy old geezer thinks,” he murmurs into the top of her head.
“I do,” she sniffles, “because he’s notwrong. I wanted Enver to be…someone I could help. And now look at the mess we’re in.”
Eugene’s breath stirs her hair. “You see the best in everyone. Some people rise to it, some people run from it, and, well, some people will try to take advantage of it. You know thatbetter than anyone. But that choice…it’s theirs. If they choose wrong, it’s on them, not you.” He nudges another parchment toward her. “There’s a letter from your mother, too.”
Somehow that scares her more than Cressien’s reports. Yet the broken purple wax seal gleams under the swaying lanterns in the salon, and the idea that Enver read this before she could makes her angry enough to pick it up.
My dearest Rapunzel,
You’ve barely been gone a day, but I couldn’t help writing already. By the time this letter finds you, I hope you’re in the heart of a wonderful adventure. I can scarcely believe you’re my daughter, because you’re so tremendously brave to head into the unknown for our kingdom’s sake…and when I watched your ship set sail yesterday morning, I felt like such a coward for wanting to bring you back before it could even clear the horizon. But there’s so much of the world waiting for you, and I am so, so proud of you, dearest, for having the courage to leave this castle and chase it. I’m counting the days until you can tell me everything you’ve seen.
Love always,
Your mother
Rapunzel’s vision blurs with tears.
Not because of what her mother wrote—but what she didn’t.
There’s noI hope you’re representing us well.NoHow are discussions going?NoRemember what we told you.
Nothing to justify. Nothing to prove. No expectations, just joy, just pride.
She was waiting for scrutiny, for needling, for doubt, because every shortcoming was an excuse for Gothel to say Rapunzel wasn’t yet ready to leave. But that was never about Rapunzel, or anything she did wrong; she was never going to prove she could leave the tower, because Gothel never intended to let her go.
And the mother who loves her—well, she doesn’t need Rapunzel to prove anything.
It didn’t matter that her lost magic was a disappointment to King Enver. It doesn’t matter if she’s falling short of Minister Cressien’s standards. She’s already the person she wanted her mother to see.
And maybe—maybe it’s because seeing the best in people is a family trait.
Eugene carefully dabs at her face with a sleeve. “Better?”
“Better,” she confirms shakily, tucking the letter into her pocket.
Footsteps thud unevenly down the stairs. Minister Cressien staggers into the salon, a crew member steadying his elbow. “I believe we’ll be departing shortly,” he croaks. “To protect the crew, should they be questioned, Princess Verette has asked to wait until we’re off the barge to discuss specifics…of the…” He trails off as his eyes land on her tearstained face, then fall to the reports scattered on the table.
For a tortured moment, only the dull slosh of waves and the groans of the hull fill the salon.
“Your—Your Highness,” Cressien starts.
Rapunzel shakes her head. “Later.”
Before Cressien can argue, Verette clomps down to the salon. “The dinghy’s almost here. Get ready to move.”
If Minister Cressien was having a bad time on the barge, he has an even worse time on the cramped dinghy being buffeted by the waves, with Eugene and Verette rowing toward the lantern-dotted shore of Merchant’s Crescent. Once there’s enough distance between them and the barge, Verette grits out between oar strokes, “We’re getting you to a safe house tonight. Then we’ll stage a diversion so your galleon can pick you up from here and take you home.”
“Wait,” Rapunzel says. “You want us to leave?”
