“I’ll stay here and pack,” Rapunzel tells him. “Take your time.”
Eugene kisses her cheek. “You’re my favorite.”
He heads off, splitting ways with Hughes as they pass the audience hall. For now, it’s the one part of the palace that hasn’t been touched since the night Enver locked himself into the throne. Verette left the choice to the People’s Council, and the consensus was that a place like that ought to remain only as a memorial to what was lost, and a testament to the price of losing it. Eventually, the rubble will be cleared; then there’ll be a plaque left to testify to the truth of the Night of the Poisoned Dagger and the lives lost to Enver’s folly…and Enver himself, as a warning to those who would outstay their welcome on a throne.
As a council, the group claimed it will be addressed last because the living take priority, and that has been true. But as Verette’s friends, they have all seen her eyes fill with tears when they pass the king’s statue. It’s not unlike the look Rapunzel used to get anytime anyone mentioned Gothel.
A portrait of Queen Gaelle has replaced Enver’s in the royal wing, and as Eugene passes it, he can see the resemblance to Verette. It’s not shocking at all that there’s more of Gaelle than Enver in her.
The queen’s chambers have been aired out repeatedly, but they stillfeelintrinsically dusty, the library most of all. Leona is peering into a chest of short, wide drawers, and as he comes to a halt at her side, she pulls out a chart—no, amap.
“Aha,” she huffs with satisfaction. “Did you know, one of the first things Enver banned was maps of anywhere but Astera? They were all locked up or burned. You want to keep people on an island, you make sure they don’t know where else to go. But Gaelle, she always loved collecting them. Your Minister Cressien’s agreed to bring some of our cartographers to Kourenne to catch up, but these are a good start.”
“Cressien thought maybe Enver bannedThe Tales of Flynnigan Riderbecause it encouraged kids to leave,” Eugene says, studying the next map in the drawer.
Leona makes atchsound. “That, and spite. He always felt like your parents should have been more grateful. Like Gaelle liked them more than him.” She points to a shelf where there’s a dust-filled void between tomes. “There, that’s where your copy ofFlynnigan Ridercame from. Gaelle got the very first binding of it, and she was so excited, she embossed her insignia upside down inside. When Marietta and I made it all the way here on the Night of the Poisoned Dagger, the queen was on her deathbed. She insisted we take it. Marietta could barely stand to look at it on the ship to Kourenne.”
Eugene tells himself it’s the dust thickening his throat. “What were her last months like?”
“She tried,” Leona says bluntly. “She tried to be happy and stay for you, but she was…fading. Always flinching atshadows, afraid Enver had followed her across the sea, calling for your father in her sleep. When she took ill, her last request was for me to make sure you got that book, that it was meant for you. A week later, the hospital sent word that we’d lost her.”
The silence sits heavy in the little library for a long, long moment.
“I really wish I could have known them,” Eugene finally says.
“I wish you could have, too. You deserved to grow up climbing the walls of the printshop, and they deserved to know their son. We all deserved better.” Leona rolls up the maps, tucks them under an arm, and closes the drawer. “You’ll always be welcome in Astera, as long as I’m Master of Seas. And Iexpectto see more of you, especially since you’ve taken up with the princess of our newest allied nation. But for what it’s worth…” She motions to her cane the way she used to in the orphanage, and Eugene automatically passes it over.
“You can’t really picture me in a printshop, huh,” Eugene says with a rueful grin.
Leona shakes her head with an answering, albeit more wry, grin and heads for the door. “Can’t picture you with gray hair. Now, if you buy me averystrong drink…I’ll tell you the stories your parents never wanted to reach the light of day.”
Eugene laughs. “With what money?”
Leona stops in her tracks, staring at him. “Oh, stars help me, we need to go to the administration center,right now. No one told you about the royalties.”
Morning light casts the harbor in pale gold, almost the same as the starlight Rapunzel held, as they gather by the royal galleon. Compared to just a fortnight ago, the assembled company is mostly the same, but the mood distinctly different: Rapunzel is bouncing on her toes; Cressien is marginally less tightly wound. Eugene has the fresh glow of a man who has just inherited his parents’ substantial accumulated royalties,with interest, and is going to make some very reckless financial decisions once they figure out the currency exchange rates. Verette and the rest of the People’s Council are also in good spirits, despite the early hour and the necessity of farewells.
“I believe,” Verette says with a merry kind of formality, “that our hospitality was lacking during your visit. I wish to make it up to you all.” She reaches into a satchel slung over her simple indigo gown and pulls out an oddly mismatched stack of paper, then hands it to Eugene. It’s been loosely stitched together in crude thread, and on the very top page are scrawled handwritten letters:The Tales of Flynnigan Rider.
“I found it among my mother’s belongings,” Verette says. “I believe it’s the first draft.”
The manuscript shakes in his hands. He can see two dueling sets of handwriting in a string of names:Marion Andrews?A. M. Fitzherbert? Eugene Rothar?Then:A. DREW ROTHAR.
He can’t picture their faces, but he can imagine them at the counter of Herbert & Fitz, laughing and brainstorming overthis very list, the same way he and Rapunzel joke and chat as she paints in her old nursery.
“Thank you” doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all he can say.
Rapunzel rubs his back as Verette gives him a pained, knowing smile. “You’re welcome. Minister Cressien, I confess your gift is a bit…sideways. We have an opening now for an ambassador to Kourenne, who will be sent to your kingdom next week.” She turns to Hughes and extends her hand. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
Hughes’s jaw drops.
“I’m going to miss you,” Verette says quietly, “more than I know how to say, but…it’s time we all try something new.”
Hughes’s eyes glisten; Cressien beams from ear to ear. Hughes shakes Verette’s hand, then pulls her into an embrace. Even Eugene is getting a little choked up. “Can I borrow your hanky?” he whispers to Rapunzel…just as she finishes mopping up her own face by blowing her nose. “Actually, I’m good.”
“For Princess Rapunzel,” Verette says, “I must first apologize that our original invitation turned out to be issued in bad faith. I would like to extend an invitation of my own, for your entire party to attend the Fountain Festival in one year’s time.”
“I accept,” Rapunzel says, hiding her hanky behind her back as Eugene pretends not to see. “And I also wish to extend you an invitation to visit us onmybirthday, so you can see the floating lanterns.”
