Eugene likes the queen. It’s hard not to like a woman who saw him standing on the outskirts of their reunion with a long-lost daughter and pulled him quite literally into their family.
The thing is…princesses don’t marry criminals. Not even pardoned ones. He remembers that every time he passes the guards’ barracks and sees the gallows still waiting in the courtyard.
So Eugene has no doubt that, sooner rather than later, the queen will be every bit as understanding and gracious when they make it clear it’s time for Rapunzel to move on from him.
The other voice belongs to Cressien, minister of diplomatic affairs, currently running neck and neck with the captain of the guard for Eugene’s number one hater.“…see the consequences herself,”he’s insisting.“She must understand what’s at stake.”
Eugene and Rapunzel trade looks. He sets Pascal on the couch to blend into the cushions.
“I just didn’t want to be rude,” Rapunzel whispers.
There’s a beat filled with slowing footsteps, close to the door now, not quite at the threshold. Then the queen asks gently, “How are you doing with the separation?”
“Thomas returned his wedding ring two days ago,” Cressien says shortly. And after a moment: “Always had a rotten sense of timing.”
“You know we can manage if you need to step away for a bit.”
“I need no such thing,” Cressien replies almost immediately.
The pause stretches a little too long. Eugene realizes the silence on their side of the door is betraying their snooping too. “It occurs to me,” he all but brays, “that we need a new nickname for you, since Blondie is a bit, oh, obsolete now. How do you feel about Blossom?”
Rapunzel wrinkles her nose. “Okay?”
“ ‘Okay’ is code for ‘no thank you,’ ” he surmises.
She grins sheepishly. “It’s too close to Flower.”
“Good point. Florals are completely out.” He rubs his chin. “Something flashier? Razzmatazz?”
“That’s just as many syllables as Rapunzel.”
“True, true. Punzie?”
She doesn’t have time to shoot that down before there’s a knock at the door. “Rapunzel? May we come in?”
“Of course!” Rapunzel’s face tightens as her mother and theminister enter. “I’m so sorry about last night—I didn’t mean to cause any problems—”
The queen crosses over to her. “We know, dear. No one expected you to be in that position—oh, wait.” She catches Rapunzel’s chin and wipes a fleck of purple paint off her cheek. Eugene wonders if Rapunzel’s aware of how much she lights up at the simple gesture. “Cressien can explain better.”
The minister straightens, tugging at his cravat. “The fact of the matter is, we know very little about the kingdom of Astera.”
“Eugene was just telling me no one ever leaves,” Rapunzel says.
Cressien’s gaze briefly flicks to Eugene as if he’s a dog who jumped through an unexpected hoop. “Correct,” he says mildly. “The last record we have is of a wedding announcement between Queen Gaelle and a Duke Enver over fifty years ago. King Enver is presumably their son, and Verette their granddaughter. We’ve sent customary invitations to neighboring kingdoms, including Astera, for all significant events as a matter of courtesy, including the ball last night. But it is unprecedented for Astera to actually make an appearance. And it is even more concerning that they’ve singled you out this way.”
Rapunzel pushes the paintbrush into a blob of reddish pink that’s increasingly matching her cheeks, her eyes on the palette. “I didn’t want to insult them by refusing.”
“A skilled leader is able to receive an invitation without committing to attend,” Cressien says. “Express gratitude in public, decline later in private, send gifts, soothe egos. But becauseyou accepted, no matter the excuse we give, Astera will know we’re suspicious of them and be insulted nevertheless. Something of a minor”—he clears his throat—“catastrophe.”
Eugene doesn’t miss Rapunzel’s flinch. Yet a month’s distance from his life of crime has not dulled his eye for a scam, and this is checking all the boxes: vague terms, forced urgency, targeting someone too new to know better. “Is it me, or does that sound like a setup?”
The minister only shoots him anothergood boy, now shakelook, but the queen’s lips purse. “I don’t disagree. The Asteran ship only arrived right before the ball last night, and Councilor Teophine delivered their invitation in the most conspicuous way she could. It suggests they wish to strong-arm us into a visit.”
Rapunzel still twists her hair when she’s anxious, even if it’s harder with it cropped short. “So…when am I leaving?”
“You aren’t,” Cressien says, at the same time her mother says, “Oh, no.” The minister bobs his head in deference to the queen, and she continues, “You’ve barely been here a month. We just want you to be aware of what’s happening, since this is a very delicate situation. No one expects you to navigate it yourself.”
Rapunzel sets her paintbrush down.
