They rush through the door. Roots spike through the ground and weave crude bars across the gap behind them. Asthey barrel down the path, Eugene sees Verette throw another seed, which bursts into a ball of roots that swells to nearly the size of a horse—then shifts into theformof a horse in time for her to jump onto its back and ride it down the docks.
Belatedly, Eugene realizes Maximus could likely have handled the fleet on his own. Though arguably with less consideration for loss of life. Eugene makes a note to detour to the stables once they get out.
While Verette is distracting everyone with some wild and unorthodox uses of foliage, Eugene hares off for his designated watch station. There are only two soldiers there, and both of them are fixated on the princess currently closing off the other exit with gnarled roots. This makes it remarkably easy for Eugene to sneak up behind the first man, take his spear, and knock him out with it. By the time the second guard has figured out what’s going on, he is unfortunately too late to duck a solid whack to the chin from the spear butt.
Eugene fishes out the seed and drops it on the ground. A moment later, he sees Verette ride up to the watch station on the opposite side of the cavern’s mouth, at which point the soldiers on duty there have a very unique and immobilizing experience with tree roots that will hopefully never be repeated in their lifetime.
The ground rumbles beneath his feet. He stumbles back as tendrils burst from the seed and sink into the rock, then climb and spread up to the lip of the cavern’s mouth and flourish into a giant net of root and vine, meeting with a second webgrowing from Verette’s side. In seconds, the opening has been completely blocked off.
Eugene can see Verette grinning with open relief all the way across the water. He opens his mouth to shout a congratulations—
And thunder blasts through the cavern. Eugene throws his hands over his ringing ears, staggering in place. Another boom follows, then another.
When his watering eyes clear enough, he sees the net now hanging by shreds, rent by great burning holes.
Smoke trails from the flagship’s cannons. From the scurry of movement in the galleys, Eugene is sure they’re already reloading.
Verette sways on her feet, reaching for the roots. They twitch and shudder, but the feeble sprouts aren’t going to hold up to a second round of cannon fire.
Footsteps rumble toward Eugene. His takeover of the watch station hasn’t gone unnoticed, and Erwan’s soldiers have figured out he’s an easier target than the princess who can sic roots on them.
Hot desperation rises in his throat. HetoldRapunzel he could handle this—he can’t let her down, but all he has is the spear in his sweating hands—
His eyes land on an unlit camp stove set up for the cold night watches beside a couple of low stools.
And the cast-iron skillet propped against the stone wall a few feet away.
The weight of the frying pan handle feelsspectacularin his grip as the spear clatters to the ground.
Eugene hefts the skillet, squares up to the oncoming soldiers, and gets ready to cook.
Twenty-One
Rapunzel
“My water screw!”
Ruvon’s lament rings through the great rootbound cave as Rapunzel leads the group inside the Starlight Spring, still humming. Leona leans on his arm, and Torch and Sulian bring up the rear, but Ruvon is clearly the most distraught of them all.
He jabs a finger at the starcloud tree’s silvery trunk, where the giant spiraling blades still jut through. “We angled it to draw out the water closest to the stardrop. Enver must have planted this infernal tree right over it after the final Fountain Festival, when the reservoir was low.”
Rapunzel’s found that as long as she keeps the lullaby’s tune,the words don’t matter, which is why she half sings, “The stardrop is still intact?”
Ruvon makes a face she now understands to mean he’s distilling a fifty-page report to a few sentences. “We’re…not certain. Starlight seems to emanate from a point below where the tree is now, but we never tampered with it even before Enver restricted access to the spring.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Torch bites out. A coil of rope bounces on her shoulder as she strides down the stairs and across the flat root-webbed silt, headed for the tree. As Rapunzel follows, the shimmer of nearby roots brightens, starlight tracing down myriad fibers. “It’s time for Enver to give up the throne like he promised.”
“And to stop holding the promise over Verette,” Rapunzel fits awkwardly into the song.
“It’s more than just the throne.” Master Sulian hasn’t said much this whole walk, but his eyes are as sharp as an old knife that’s been held to the grindstone a long, long time. “Teophine and I have watched her in this palace these last two decades. She never kept friends long—they always outgrew her, with Enver making her drink starlight every morning. He had every portrait of Queen Gaelle locked away. Anyone who mentioned her to the princess fell out of favor or lost their job.” Sulian swallows. “Torch, Ruvon, and Leona have lived in hiding for twenty years. All of Astera lost our chance at normal lives, thanks to him. And now we know it was all so he could survive the massacreheplanned. We’re all ready for a change.”
“Little help here?” Torch calls back.
Rapunzel finds starlight pooling under her feet as she comes to stand by Torch. “What do you need?”
Torch scowls up at the lone apple. Even though it’s dangling from the lowest bough, it’s still yards and yards out of reach. Years of calculating the loops of her hair tell Rapunzel the rope on Torch’s shoulder is also inadequate. “Can you do anything to get it closer?”
Rapunzel studies the tree, placing a hand on one massive glowing root arch. Verette could probably do something, considering how she wielded the roots before.
