Sailors march down the planks, rolling carts of cannonballs and barrels of blasting powder.
“Explosives are loaded last,” Leona hisses over her shoulder. “They’re launchingtonight.”
“You’ve some nerve showing your face here, Leona.” A bulky silhouette blocks the door, then steps inside. Lavender light washes in the details of Erwan Persevault. “Should have known I’d find you when the watchman told me three rats snuck on board.”
“Erwan,” Leona says coldly. “You’ve done a lousy job with my ship. Suppose you’ll have to steal someone else’s and try again.”
Erwan lunges for her, swinging a meaty fist. She pivots out of the way and does a quick little thrust with her walking stick that sends him crashing to the floor. Then she uses it to crack him in the jaw.
“You’re lucky I don’t have time to deal you worse,” Leona snarls, and blows a strand of her short hair away from her face. “You’re doubly lucky I’ll ask the queen to spare you the gallows.”
Erwan sneers, “Spare this.” His boot smashes into her bad knee. As Leona staggers back with a cry, he rolls to his feet—
And the jars in the chest burst. Rapunzel throws herself backward, shaking off the shattered glass, and finds shining roots swarming over Erwan.
Verette’s hand is outstretched, her braid burning for the first time with starlight.
The roots slam Erwan into the floorboards again and again until he’s stunned, then coil around him until he’s bound and gagged.
“Good work,” Leona grits out. “Now let’s go before someone comes looking.”
“Give me a second—I think I’m getting it—” Verette twists her hand. Tendrils sprout from another seed and grow into a brace for Leona’s knee.
Rapunzel grabs the parchment with Enver’s orders and folds it into a pocket, along with a handful of seeds. “Come on!”
They help Leona down the gangplank as fast as they can, then hide behind a pile of crates, out of sight of the sailors still loading the ships. The path back up to the tunnel stretches long and is much, much too exposed. “We need a distraction,” Leona whispers.
“I need a seed,” Verette says. Rapunzel fishes one out. Verette takes it, tosses it over her shoulder, and crumples her face with concentration.
Rapunzel peeks around the edge of the crates toward where the seed landed, and sees a tangled ball of roots burst into life. It discreetly rolls up behind a stack of barrels and yanks abottom one free, sending the whole pyramid tumbling down. Shouts of dismay ring through the cavern.
“Now,”Verette forces out. Starlight kindles in her braid again as the root brace on Leona’s knee sprouts more and more strands. They split off and weave into a stool of sorts with clusters of spiderlike legs. Sweat beads her brow. “Let’s go.”
The walking roots bear Leona up the ramp as Rapunzel and Verette hurry after. The three of them have just crested the final incline when the tendrils finally give out, and Rapunzel and Verette each sling one of Leona’s arms over a shoulder and half carry her the rest of the way.
They finally reach the tunnel, then sag against a wall to catch their breath. “We can’t,” Rapunzel wheezes, “let the ships leave.”
“How can we do that without hurting the sailors?” Verette wipes her damp face. “It’s not their fault they’re caught up in this.”
“Sink ’em with the roots,” Leona grunts.
Verette shakes her head. “They can’t go through salt water.”
Rapunzel is just straightening up when a shape emerges from the dark. She gasps—
“It’s me!” Eugene hisses, hurrying into their lantern’s magenta light.
“But we’re supposed to meet at the fork,” Rapunzel says, confused. “Is everything all right?”
“We might need a change of plan.” Eugene looks at the ground, then back up at them, uncertain. “Verette…you should know the real reason why your father needs the apple.”
Twenty
Eugene
“Idon’t understand.” Verette’s voice bounces off the stone walls with a treacherous wobble.
Eugene shifts uncomfortably; the only other sound is Rapunzel’s soft humming to maintain their control of the roots. They’ve moved farther down the passage to avoid drawing notice from the underground harbor. The glowing roots in the walls give plenty of light to see by—almost too much, in fact, as he can tell from the stubborn jut of Verette’s chin that the problem is she doesn’twantto understand.
