In another world, maybe he would have grown up here, knowing their faces, their voices, running down these cobblestone streets and playing Flynnigan Rider. And he’d never give up his life now—but until now, he didn’t know it was possible to mourn the one you never got to live.
Marietta Fitz. Andreas Herbert. And the Eugene Fitzherbert who should have been raised on starlight here.
He can add every one of them to what Enver owes.
The pledges continue for another half hour, and both Eugene and Rapunzel are happy to get up and stretch when they’re done. Ordinarily this is when Eugene would expect a banquet before the evening continued with the issuing of invitations, but apparently Asteran custom dictates everyone graze from the refreshment tables throughout the night instead of gathering for a sit-down meal. It makes for a convenient excuse to station himself by a cheese tray—the fountain seems to be deliberately retired—as Rapunzel makes her circuit around the room, and Minister Cressien and Councilor Teophine attemptnotto look at him.
Right now, Sulian is smuggling a handful of operatives into the palace’s tunnel system. And if this night goes the way Verette’s hoping, the way Eugene’s dubbed Plan B, the stable master will wind up smuggling them right back out.
But if it goes the way everyone else suspects it will, then they’ll switch to Plan A. (For Apple. The order’s a little confusing.)
It doesn’t take long for Hughes to find him in the crowd. “His Majesty would like a word, young Fitzherbert.”
“Does he now.” Eugene only sounds alittleinsincere. It’s partially because overall, he’d rate his interactions with Enver three out of ten at best. Primarily, it’s because Verette, Rapunzel, and Hughes have all waged an oblique but coordinated campaignthe last couple of days to make Enver think he owes Eugene an apology.
They only need a few minutes. Then the first obstacle to Plan A will be removed.
Hughes leads him away from the refreshments, muttering, “He’s speaking with Councilor Persevault in his office. I believe you’re familiar with both the councilor and the office.”
“Just doing my future job,” Eugene replies. “Did you know Cressien wants me to apprentice to the spymaster?”
“I know when Enver discovered the missing letters, he had every servant and guard searched for ties to the People’s Dagger,” Hughes says through his teeth, “so perhaps this apprenticeship will grant you a more thoughtful perspective.”
Eugene feels a stab of guilt as they head into the royal wing. “Did anyone get in trouble?”
“No one was arrested,” Hughes says. “But some were dismissed forextremelytenuous connections, likely to discourage any staff from risking associations with the group.”
Eugene feels more than a stab of guilt at that. The prospect of the apprenticeship almost feels too good to be true. (Stay with the girl he loves? Check. Use his very specific skill set to protect her and their home? Check. Presumptively decent pay? Cashorcheck, thank you.) And Cressien wouldn’t offer his recommendation lightly.
But if Eugene cost innocent people their jobs…
Hughes clears his throat. “It was better than if you’d left no sign of a culprit. The king would still be tearing the castleapart looking for the messages.” His voice catches a bit. “Your uncle, however, would have planted something to implicate Councilor Persevault.”
Then he holds a hand up, the “silent” gesture the People’s Council agreed on. As they round the corner, Eugene sees two guards stationed at the entrance to the king’s quarters.
Hughes doesn’t speak again until they reach the king’s office. The door is firmly shut, the voices inside low and muffled. It doesn’t sound like they’re close to wrapping it up.
Hughes confirms: “They may be at it a while. We’ll wait here.”
“Got it.” Eugene posts up by Hughes’s side.
Since the ball, Eugene has learned more than he’d ever dreamed about his parents, though that’s still mostly scraps and fragments, pieced together as best he can. People like Sulian and Torch knew them from their time with the People’s Dagger, and Sol—no,Leona—and Ruvon knew them as the queen’s friends.
But there’s one void that no one can help him fill quite as well as Hughes. Eugene debates with himself a long moment, makes sure they’re out of earshot of any guards, then takes the plunge. “Can…can I ask about my uncle?”
Hughes briefly closes his eyes. “What do you wish to know?”
“Anything,” Eugene says.
For a moment he thinks Hughes will refuse. But then he says, “You’re more like your father than your uncle. But…there are similarities.”
“Really?” Eugene can’t help sounding almost like a little kid.
Hughes nods. “He was clever, funny. Resourceful. Irreverent. Occasionally hardheaded.Frequentlyboneheaded.” A shallow smile digs at the corner of his mouth. “You know, he and your father used to play ‘Flynnigan Rider’ when they were little boys. People tend to underestimate the power of the stories we tell our children, and the stories children tell themselves. Andreas and Marietta saw something more than just adventures. They saw a dream that was possible because Flynnigan Rider never has to worry about his health or his money. They wrote it into the book because they believed better things were possible for all of Astera. And according to your uncle Eugene, they especially wanted that dream for you.”
Before Eugene can process this, the office door swings open.
“Fitzherbert,” Enver calls. “Just who I was looking for.”
