Chapter Twenty-One Rapunzel
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 massacre he planned. 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.
And what is starlight but the light of a distant sun?
When Rapunzel closes her eyes, she can feel the magic coursing through the tree. It—it’s not hers. Not her power, not her sunlight.
But it’s close enough.
She thinks of the last day in the tower, of Eugene growing cold in her arms, of how desperately she feared that chill. How she reached for the sunlight, and despite everything, it answered her call.
She thinks of Third Street Hospital. Of the chief engineer of the Northeast Secondary Sunmill. Of a closet full of verettes.
And she reaches for the starlight.
Leaves rustle, the fibers of the wood almost like strands of hair, rays of sunlight, threads of starlight, bending for her. By the time she opens her eyes, the bough has descended, the apple now dangling only a few feet from her face.
It looks even stranger up close, lighter freckles dancing over its pale, crystalline periwinkle skin with the rainbow gleams of a prism.
Still singing, Rapunzel reaches up and breaks the apple off the tree.
A rush of starlight swells below her like a tidal wave, as if without the apple draining it, it’s free to flow.
Not only does light blaze from the roots, but the dirt, the stone, even the residue on the walls, all of it comes alive with stardust, until Rapunzel’s eyes water.
For the first time, little embers of sundrop gold dart through the iridescence.
Maybe she can do more than pick an apple.
She hands the apple to Torch, then stretches out a hand toward the tree.
The starcloud tree shudders from tip to trunk.
Indigo leaves flutter down from the branches pressed against the spring’s ceiling, each as translucent as the apple.
With a crack, one of the largest roots jerks from the ground, and the brightest flare of starlight yet bursts out from somewhere deep below the tree—
Then Enver’s voice roars in her skull: “NO!”
The root slams back into place, the light guttering out. Rapunzel only barely manages to keep singing between her gasps for breath.
Ruvon’s voice echoes through the cavern. “If we release the sunmill above, the water screw should turn and help pry up the tree!”
“Wouldn’t this whole contraption just be stuck?” Leona asks.
“Obviously not, darling. The mill sails’ crystals have been storing up energy from the sun for twenty years,” Ruvon retorts.
“If the water screw weren’t already beyond repair, I’d never recommend it.
The amount of force alone…” When he’s met with blank stares, he snaps, “Am I the only one who did the reading on sunmills?”
Another pulse of light sears down the roots, a cold silver this time.
Rapunzel jerks back, voice wavering as the magic begins to drag—
And then even the largest roots begin to thrash.
Chaos erupts everywhere.
Torch shouts “It’s Enver!” as cracks split down the walls of the spring.
The ground collapses under their feet. Gnarled roots whip around them all, yanking them up, up, toward a ceiling being ripped open by a thousand shining tendrils.
They chew a tunnel through solid rock, and for a moment, all Rapunzel knows is the crash of breaking stone, muffled cries, the slither of roots, and the jostle and bang whenever she’s dragged too close to the wall.
Then the sound of shattering limestone changes to the glassier crack of marble, and they’re unceremoniously shoved up onto the floor of—the audience hall.
The roots jerk Rapunzel to her feet, alongside Leona, Sulian, Ruvon, and finally, Torch. Gasps sweep the already rattled hall.
From all appearances, most of the evening went according to plan, the party seemingly on the verge of winding down before Enver ripped them through the floor—right under the refreshment tables, judging by the mess of food and linens scattered around the crude gaping gash.
Most of the guests are bunched up against the walls now, Cressien and Teophine among them, taut with horror.
Hughes is hiding his dismay, but his throat bobs as he waits at Enver’s elbow.
And Enver—well, that’s where things went wrong.
Because just like the roots, the tree, and the spring, Enver’s veins are blazing with starlight.
Rapunzel tries to hum around the root jammed between her teeth as a gag. But even if it didn’t come out strangled, Enver’s command over the starlight is unshakable.
The ground trembles once more, spreading fractures through the tiles. Then another figure is hauled through the floor, tangled in roots.
Verette.
And there is no sign of Eugene.
Rapunzel’s heart freezes.
Where—where is Eugene?
“Verette.” The king walks slowly, frostily down the steps of the dais, trailed by Hughes. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Why don’t you go first, Father?” Verette shoots back.
She’s the only one of their captive group to not have a root jammed between her teeth.
The tendrils around her twitch and sputter with little flares of light as she tries vainly to break free.
“Why don’t you tell everyone about the apple tree you planted in the Starlight Spring?
How it’s been draining all the starlight from Astera for decades, just so you can eat its fruit and prolong your life.
Or how you planned to hold Rapunzel hostage to force her kingdom to let you plant another one.
” Her chin lifts, eyes burning. “Tell them, Father. Tell them there was no poison in the spring. The only poison in the palace has been you.”
Hughes keeps pacing around the prisoners, but Enver stops in front of Verette. His smile is slow and as bitter as wine soured to vinegar. “I see…I’m afraid you’re just exaggerating again, sweetheart. I understand you’re upset with me, but this just proves you’re not ready to be queen yet.”
Rapunzel shifts and hears a papery crinkle at her hip. She looks down and sees a thin stripe of parchment peeking out of her pocket.
Enver’s demands for her parents.
And he’s too busy grandstanding at Verette to pay attention to her.
“I did plant a tree by the spring,” Enver’s saying, “oh, twenty-five years ago? I thought if the fruit concentrated the starlight, it might be able to save your mother.”
Rapunzel snags the edge of the parchment and slips it free, then adjusts her angle so it’s hidden behind her back. As Hughes passes, she feels the sheet tugged from her hand.
Enver’s still going. “It didn’t bear fruit in time to save her. If you found anything strange or problematic in the Starlight Spring, it could only be the work of your friends, the People’s Dagger.”
Gasps rain through the hall at the name.
Rapunzel, however, feels like a strand of hair just snagged on a splintered board. Something about that doesn’t add up. Still, no one else seems to have picked up on it yet, the other captives’ faces all balancing fear and fury.
Then it clicks.
The only other time she felt this kind of horrified disgust was when she looked at Gothel and asked, Should I even call you that?
Rapunzel makes a decision, then, one she knows is going to be very unpleasant but worth the payoff. She bites down on the root.
Unsurprisingly, it’s tough and woody, and her teeth ache as they dig in—but she can feel the beginnings of a notch.
Enver’s brow furrows. He starts to turn to Rapunzel.
And Councilor Teophine’s voice rings out as she reads off the parchment in her hands: “ ‘Greetings to Their Honorable Majesties of Kourenne. I, Erwan Persevault, Councilor of the West and Master of Seas, bear this message on behalf of His Majesty, King Enver of Astera—’ ”
“Stop her,” Enver barks out.
No one moves.
“ ‘Your daughter, Princess Rapunzel, and her consort, Eugene Fitzherbert, are now in our custody,’ ” Teophine continues, “ ‘and your minister of diplomacy will remain a hostage on my flagship—’ ”
“I said STOP HER,” bellows Enver.
A man with a guard captain’s sash strides over to Councilor Teophine and tears the parchment from her hand.
Then he scans the words. He looks up at the king, stricken, and doesn’t fight at all when Teophine takes the declaration back.
“ ‘If you wish to see any of them again, you must cede to Astera the territory containing the former location of the sundrop flower, and allow us unrestricted access to it. To ensure your compliance, the princess and her consort will remain in Astera until at least a decade has passed,’ ” she finishes grimly.
“What were you saying about exaggeration, Your Majesty?”
“This isn’t the Night of the Poisoned Dagger, Father,” Verette spits out. “There are too many witnesses this time. You can’t slaughter us all and save yourself with some lie about traitors again.”
“That—that’s preposterous,” Enver blusters. Rapunzel can see desperation tightening a winch in him as he searches the crowd for allies. “You don’t expect anyone to believe this, do you?”
The last of the root tears free in Rapunzel’s teeth. She coughs it out with a muffled “pleh,” then raises her voice. “How did you save yourself?”
“What?” Enver’s erratic stare lands on her.
And Rapunzel knows she’s struck true when the king’s fingers graze his stomach.
“The Night of the Poisoned Dagger, you should have died from your stomach wound. You’re still bleeding right now.
” Red flashes as the king tries to hide his hand behind his back—but there are witnesses on every side now, and the ones behind him stare and point.
“You said the apple wasn’t ready in time to save the queen, and she died that night, too. So how did you save yourself?”
A terrible look breaks across Verette’s face as she, too, makes the connection.
“It wasn’t that serious,” Enver sputters, even as an undeniable wet gleam slicks his red doublet. “I just drank from the Starlight Spring—”
“You said they poisoned it!” someone shouts from the crowd.
“I-I had some in reserve for the queen,” Enver lies.
“I’ve been fine with just the starlight water—” His eyes graze a window, and something shifts in his face, moving from near panic to triumph.
A broad, relieved smile breaks like porcelain as he laughs, “And it doesn’t matter anymore!
It’s done! There’s nothing that can be done to stop it! ”
Rapunzel follows his gaze to a window overlooking the island’s edge.
Warship sails jab into the horizon like thorns.
They didn’t stop the fleet after all.
And now they’re going to return to her mother and tell her Rapunzel couldn’t keep the one promise she made: to come back.
A hush falls over the hall, sickened and awful.
It makes the explosion that engulfs the flagship all the louder.
Another crash follows as a fireball swallows a warship whole. And another, and another, tearing ship after ship apart.
In seconds, all that’s left of Enver’s armada is charred ribcage hulls and fire on the waves.