Eugene pushes his way through the wreckage and the frightened crowds, toward the blindingly bright mass of roots at the dais, just as the first explosion rocks the hall.
Shouts and gasps burst through the air, alongside the orange glow blooming from the western windows. When the thunder fades, Verette’s voice pierces through: “How, exactly, did you save yourself, Father? You never answered.”
“It was starlight water, that’s all!” Enver blusters, the most unraveled Eugene’s ever heard him.
Eugene staggers into the open just as Hughes says, “Then you don’t need this.”
He’s standing by Cressien and Teophine, holding the starlight apple aloft for all to see.
Enver goes still.
“Are you really going to stand here,” Hughes accuses, shaking, “and say you executed Eugene Fitz for nothing?”
“All your seeds went with that fleet.” Leona seems to have chewed through her gag. “I’d be very careful with that last apple, if I were you.”
The king hasn’t moved—except for his darting eyes.
And then desperation makes a devil of him.
He turns on Hughes, his roots lashing out, stiffening to razor-sharp spears—
There’s a flurry, a cry, a sickening thud. The apple hits the ground.
Hughes staggers back, aghast.
And Cressien, who pushed him out of the way, looks down at the roots impaling his own stomach with a mixture of disbelief and indignation.
“Oh,” he says unevenly, “that’s not how I thought this would go at all.”
He slumps as the roots jerk loose. Hughes catches him and lowers him to the floor with Teophine’s help. The only sound Eugene registers is Rapunzel’s scream.
A juicy crunch splits through the air. Silver light pulses down every root, emanating from King Enver, who breathes deep before taking another fervent bite from the apple now clenched in his fist. Starlight runs like tears into his beard. With every chew he stands straighter, the roots shivering with power.
But he’s not the only one who’s using their teeth.
Verette’s wrenched her rootbound hands up to her face. She bites into the gnarled, shining root, tears a mouthful free, and swallows.
An opalescent glow darts through her bonds. The raw root isn’t as bright with starlight as the apple, but nevertheless, the tendrils binding her shiver—then peel away.
“You killed her,” Verette snarls. “The People’s Dagger didn’t touch Mama that night. She was just sick! You could have split the apple and saved both your lives! You let her die so you could have the apple all”—a root thick around as a man bursts through the floor—“for”—it clumsily sweeps at Enver—“YOURSELF!”
All the binding roots slacken, then surge with starlight and swarm to Verette. Enver reflexively takes a step back, swinging the apple away from her.
A tiny green figure crawls into view under the king’s cloak, planted on his shoulder. And with focused, deadly precision, Pascal’s tongue strikes the apple out of Enver’s hand, then whips it to Rapunzel, towing Pascal himself along.
The moment she grabs the apple and Pascal, roots shove through the floor, walling them off from Enver and Verette.
Hands grab both Eugene and Rapunzel by the shoulders—Ruvon and Sulian, pushing them toward the nearest exit. Sulian shouts, “Take the apple andrun!”
“But Cressien—” Rapunzel protests.
“You have to get to your ship,” Ruvon urges as stripes of light flare through the root wall. “We’ll keep Enver distracted. Get into open water, where the roots can’t reach you, and destroy the apple. He won’t stop until there’s nothing left to chase.”
Rapunzel pushes the apple toward him instead. “Can’t this heal Cressien?”
“It wasn’t enough to permanently restore the king,” Ruvon says with a grimace. “Even if Verette can hold him back, we’ll need to take any opening we can get to tear down the tree and cut him off. But…”
No more tree, no more apples. No more time.
