Chapter One Rapunzel #3
Duke Louis of Maenvale is first. “My finest rosé,” he announces, gesturing to a wine cask trimmed in gold and purple. “Five barrels. The rest have been delivered straight to the cellar, Your Highness, but perhaps we might tap this one tonight?”
“Perhaps later,” the queen says firmly.
Rapunzel makes a note to ask what a rosé is, and what she’s supposed to do with five barrels of it, later. “Thank you so much, Duke Louis, this is so thoughtful.”
Next comes a countess with a beautiful string of pearls (“How lovely, thank you!”).
Then a marquis presents her with a fine mare who seems, incredibly, more at ease in the ballroom than Rapunzel (“She’s perfect, thank you!
”), and an earl somehow manages to fit an entire new carriage through the doors (“I’m… speechless! Thank you!”).
By the fifth present, Rapunzel is beginning to sweat.
By the eighth, she’s trying to find new and creative ways to say “I love it, thank you” while Minister Cressien looks increasingly unimpressed. It’s not that she doesn’t mean it—it’s just so much.
It’s all for her, all this treasure, all this fanfare. After eighteen years of hazelnut soup, it’s…
It’s not just so much. All of it—it’s too much.
Finally, after a present Rapunzel actually knows what to do with—yards of gorgeous silks and velvets from the head of the merchants’ league—it seems like a reprieve is finally at hand, the end of the line at last.
Then a tall woman steps from the crowd. She’s wearing a curious midnight-blue silk robe, embroidered in silver and gold patterns that look strangely familiar—
Stars, Rapunzel realizes. Stars charted in thread, the way she painted them in her—Gothel’s—tower.
The woman approaches the dais and bows deeply.
Her hood falls back as she straightens, revealing a pale lined face and silver hair glittering with crystal pins.
When she speaks, her deep voice lilts in a way that makes Rapunzel think of incense smoke.
“Greetings, Your Highness. I am Councilor Teophine Trahan, emissary of the kingdom of Astera. I bear a gift from His Majesty King Enver.”
Astera. Rapunzel knows next to nothing about Astera, other than that its white seashells make her favorite pigment.
And that it’s three days there and back, but only because of how Gothel had griped when Rapunzel asked for those shells.
Gothel was careful to keep any maps or history books far from their shelves.
But judging from the murmurs leaping through the ballroom, there’s more to Astera than its seashells.
Queen Arianna draws a sharp breath behind Rapunzel.
Minister Cressien’s brow has furrowed, eyes darting to the king.
Rapunzel fishes “…ever seen an Asteran?” and “hundreds of years” and “forbidden” from the darting whispers.
Teophine’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Our crown princess, Verette, is coming of age in ten days. To forge a new working relationship between our two nations, for the first time in our history, King Enver has extended a royal invitation to attend the celebration”—her slender hand emerges from her robes, extending a golden envelope—“to Her Highness Princess Rapunzel.”
Rapunzel gulps. Didn’t Cressien say diplomacy was critical to the kingdom’s safety? He’s already elbowing his way through the crowd—it would be rude to refuse, and Councilor Teophine is waiting for an answer—
“Thank you,” Rapunzel says automatically, taking the envelope. “I’m honored to accept—”
“—consider it,” her father interjects as Teophine’s smile widens and half the room gasps. “We’ll need to—”
Rapunzel swings around to look at him, startled by the urgency in his voice.
Unfortunately, the king was stepping forward, halfway to dropping a hand on her shoulder again. He tries to jerk back, loses his balance, lurches to the side…and misses the top step of the dais.
There’s a scuffle, an ugly crunch, and a muffled string of words Rapunzel’s pretty sure a king’s not allowed to know.
“Oh dear,” her mother sighs. “Can someone get the doctor? He’s done it again.” As she hurries past Rapunzel, she says under her breath, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, this dais always trips him up. If we’re lucky, it’s his fourth sprain; his second break if we’re not. I told him we need railings.”
Rapunzel reaches for her hair, ready to say that for once tonight, she knows what she’s doing—
And comes up short. Her hand closes on empty air.
There’s no denying it’s easier to move without seventy feet of hair. But if she still carried that weight…
A quick little song, and all of this would be fixed.
The queen crouches by her husband, who sits red-faced on the stairs, one leg outstretched. They insisted she need only have fun tonight. Rapunzel’s fairly certain they’re regretting that now.
There’s a firm cough at her elbow. “I’ll handle this, Your Highness,” Minister Cressien says stiffly, and plucks the golden envelope from her grasp.
“Oh—sure,” Rapunzel says hesitantly. She turns back to look for Councilor Teophine—
But there’s no sign of midnight-blue silk or crystal-studded hair anywhere in the ballroom. All that she’s left behind are the invitation and whispers trailing like stardust in her wake.