Chapter Three Rapunzel
Three
Rapunzel
Really, Rapunzel thinks, it could be worse.
For example, this could all be happening in the dead of winter, when the sun would have already set hours ago.
Years of late-night sketching by the light of a secret candle mean she can tell the royal library’s lamps would be direly insufficient for her search.
Instead, even though it’s well after dinner, the low summer sun gilds the sea, lighting the shelves and their contents with a reflected amber glow more than equal to the task.
Rapunzel survived a pub full of brigands, nearly drowning in a dam collapse, and eighteen years in Gothel’s tower. She’s pretty sure she can survive a birthday party. But if Minister Cressien doesn’t think she’s ready to go to Astera, then she’ll just have to make herself ready.
There’s just one problem: The library is not cooperating.
Brandleton’s History of the Northern Kingdoms. Maybe this one? She pulls the book down and skims the table of contents. Nothing specific to Astera, but…Rapunzel flips to a section on island kingdoms, skims, finds one line:
As for the archipelago of Astera, due to their strict isolationist policies, little is known about this kingdom’s past.
Pascal brrs on her shoulder.
“Not this one either,” she says with a sigh, and slides the book back into the gap left on the shelf. She hasn’t found a single volume yet with any more information than this, if it even mentions Astera at all.
It could be worse, Rapunzel tells herself. She could be without access to the royal library entirely.
Pascal suddenly scuttles down her sleeve and into her pocket. A moment later, a librarian passes the end of the row of shelves, double-takes, and bobs a curtsy. “Your Highness! Can I help you find anything?”
“Oh no, don’t worry about it,” Rapunzel says in a rush. “Just looking! Haha!”
Before the librarian can offer again, she hurries away from the history section.
Rapunzel is sure the librarian is very good at her job and might actually possess a trove of Asteran lore; she knows it makes very little sense, but for reasons completely beyond her, the idea of asking for help makes Rapunzel want to march into the sea.
Lore. There could be something in the legends and folklore section, at least about beliefs?
Something about Asteran culture? Rapunzel spends another ten minutes scouring those shelves…
but comes up empty-handed once more. When she tries the law section, she finds only a stray note in a tome of international legal codes about the limited documentation of Asteran regulations.
She tries naval history—they have boats, right?
(Of course they do; how else could Councilor Teophine have gotten here?)—and agriculture and, in desperation, a compendium of international recipes.
Nothing.
It still could be worse, Rapunzel internally insists. She could be in the tower, with a grand total of three books for reference.
But at least you knew those books by heart, a mutinous voice returns to remind her.
“Please let me know if you need anything, Your Highness.” The librarian hums a drive-by hint, pushing a notably empty cart past the aisle.
Rapunzel contemplates the walking distance to the sea beyond the windows for a moment, decides it’s too far, and caves. “Actually, yes. Do you know where I can find anything about Astera?”
A few minutes later, the librarian is pulling Systems of Government of the Modern Age from a shelf in the political arts section.
“It’s not a lot,” she warns. “More than the rest of our collection, but that’s not saying much.
” She hands it to Rapunzel. “May I ask, Your Highness…is this about the invitation last night?”
“My mother doesn’t want me to go,” Rapunzel says, trying not to let her glumness show.
The librarian’s shoulders droop. “That’s too bad. There must be so much for outsiders to learn there. Not that I’m questioning Her Majesty, of course. I wouldn’t let my daughter go alone either.”
Rapunzel’s smile feels a little tight. “Of course. Thank you for your help.”
She retreats to a nearby table and, once the librarian is out of sight, sets Pascal on the oak planks, then takes a seat and cracks open the dusty tome. The section the librarian promised is also just as brief as she warned, and it starts like most of the other books:
Little is known about the current regime in Astera.
Judging by the book’s brittle leather, that regime was decades ago. Rapunzel’s mouth twists, but she keeps going.
As of this writing, limited import trading is allowed on the main island by day under the watch of the guard, but every foreigner must return to Merchant’s Crescent at sunset or remain on Astera as a permanent resident.
Similarly, Asteran citizens are forbidden from leaving the archipelago, and surprisingly few attempt to do so.
This makes gathering and confirming information about their society difficult, and the rulers at present seem inclined to further restrictions.
Eugene did say all trading happened on Merchant’s Crescent now. The author’s instincts seem to be right on the nose.
From what I have gleaned, Astera is led by a monarch and their consort, with the monarch’s authority taking precedence.
There is also a council of five advisors, and in the event that a monarch is incapacitated before their heir is of age, the council assumes governance of Astera in the interim.
I believe there is some correlation between the cardinal directions and the jurisdiction of each councilor, for my admission papers bear the seals of the Councilor of the West and Master of Seas, as well as that of the Councilor of the East and Master of Prosperities.
From my best estimation, the Master of Seas is responsible for Astera’s navy, while the Master of Prosperities seems to be in charge of economic affairs.
I have yet to determine what the North and South administrations cover, or what the fifth council position is; when I inquired, the supervising guard said it was none of my concern.
This is the full extent of my observations regarding the government of Astera.
Rapunzel blows out a breath, the chair creaking as she sits back. All this secrecy, and they’re breaking it to invite her to a party. No wonder her mother’s suspicious.
But…
That only makes Rapunzel want to go more.
If she can’t study up on Astera, maybe she can dive into diplomacy. She descends upon the political arts shelves, and returns to the table with a wobbling stack of books with titles like Theories of Arbitration and Duties of the Plenipotentiary.
A few hours later, she’s wading through a chapter of the rather silly and bloated Art of the Bargain when the chair across from her squeaks. Rapunzel jolts to attention as Pascal ducks behind the book stack and fades into the pages.
Her mother is lowering herself into the other seat. Somehow, it’s already dark out. The library’s lamps were sufficient after all.
“You’re a little too old for me to enforce a bedtime,” the queen says gently, “but it is late.” She picks up a discarded book—Rules of Engagement—skims the title, and looks up at Rapunzel. “You really want to go, don’t you?”
“I—I don’t expect it to be a vacation or anything,” Rapunzel blurts out. “I promise I’m taking it seriously. I know it could be dangerous. I just think…we should find out why me, why now.”
“Sweetheart, what happened yesterday isn’t your fault. You know that, right?” Her mother reaches across the table for her hand. “And it’s not your mess to clean up. We’ll manage it just fine. Truly.”
Whenever a growth spurt hit and Rapunzel’s dresses started getting too short, too tight, Mother—no, Gothel—would roll her eyes and sigh, I suppose I’ll just have to find you more fabric. No, don’t worry, Flower. It’ll be out of my way, but I’ll manage it somehow.
Rapunzel still feels like she’s fourteen, trying to reverse engineer pictures of dresses into a workable pattern so she doesn’t have to bother Gothel for that too, when she says, “I want to help. I know I can help.”
“I know you can…” the queen starts.
“And it’s part of being a princess, right?
There’s always going to be a risk.” Rapunzel shuts the book.
“Maybe this is an opportunity for a new alliance. Or maybe it is a threat, and we need to know how to protect our kingdom. I want to do something about it. It doesn’t feel right for me to just stay in the”—she catches herself—“palace.”
I can be the princess you waited eighteen years for, she swears but doesn’t say. I can’t heal Father anymore, but I can do this. I can make you proud.
When the queen finally speaks, her voice is hoarse. “Sometimes I forget you still have a whole world to see. I won’t be the one to make this castle a cage. Just promise…” Her eyes glitter in the lamplight. “Promise me, Rapunzel, that you’ll come back.”
The next morning brings one hitch to the plan.
Rapunzel and Eugene can’t avoid eavesdropping while they wait awkwardly outside her mother’s meeting parlor.
It’s almost fascinating to hear Minister Cressien try to wrestle vehement disagreement into a nice hat.
“Your Majesty, I—I’m afraid I can’t…rationalize this course of action. It doesn’t seem…”
“You may speak freely, Cressien,” the queen says dryly.
“I must be hallucinating,” the minister erupts.
“Surely we’re not sending the brand-new princess, and her suitor with a pardon so recent the ink hasn’t dried, as emissaries to a kingdom no one’s heard from since before any of us were born.
A kingdom that deliberately manipulated us into this situation!
The king won’t allow it, and he’ll be right! ”
Eugene grimaces and mutters, “Ouch.”