Chapter Twenty-Two Eugene
Twenty-Two
Eugene
All things considered, Eugene would have to rate destroying a fleet with its own munitions a solid ten out of ten.
And admittedly, Verette made it easier by clearing any sailors who had not already cleared themselves from the ships.
The trickiest part for him, really, was making sure the powder kegs wouldn’t light until the ships made it out of the harbor.
And, about five minutes from now, explaining to Leona that he just blew up her flagship.
But that’s a problem for future Eugene. Right now, Eugene is infinitely more concerned with getting back to Rapunzel, and the one part of this plan that hasn’t worked out so well is figuring out exactly where she is.
He has a hunch it’s wherever Verette got dragged off to; when Verette sensed Enver fighting for control of the roots, they decided to let him take her just to buy time for the ships.
Which is why he’s taking a page out of Verette’s book. Specifically, the horse page.
When he runs into the stables, he finds Maximus already standing over the shattered ruins of his stall door, nostrils flaring. He tosses his head and snorts at Eugene as if to say, About time.
“Sorry, I was busy committing grand acts of sabotage,” Eugene says airily as he grabs a fistful of Max’s mane and swings onto his back. “Let’s go get our girl.”
Maximus takes off, careening past palace guards who look like they’re having about the weirdest night of their careers. It takes a couple halls and corners for Eugene to realize they’re bearing toward the audience hall.
Of course.
A man like Enver will always want an audience.
Eugene slides off Maximus when they reach the doors; the chaos inside says it’ll be easier to go on foot. “Keep an eye on our backs.”
Max snorts again and starts snapping his teeth at the nearby guards.
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 and run!”
“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.
Enver’s voice booms through the hall: “Stop FIGHTING me!”
It’s been over a month, but Eugene can still hear Gothel hissing the exact same words. From the look on Rapunzel’s face, she remembers it just as terribly well.
“I can’t just—” Rapunzel’s voice catches. A silver root bursts through the ground by their feet, and they all stagger back. As Eugene steadies her, she looks up at him, wordlessly asking.
Eugene braces himself, then tells Ruvon and Sulian, “You’re not getting rid of us that easily.”
Ruvon’s scowl deepens, but Sulian, for once, softens with a pained smile. “You sound like your parents.”
“Wait—” Rapunzel lights up like a lantern. “The palace sunmill. You said starting it up could weaken the tree. If Cressien can hold on—”
“Perhaps that could give Verette a fighting chance.” Ruvon takes the apple and cuts an offensively neat slice, considering he’s using a knife pilfered from the refreshment wreckage.
“This may keep your minister with us for now. You’ll have to reconnect the main shaft and release the brake wheel, which is located—”
“Behind the sails,” Rapunzel finishes as he passes the apple back. “I did do the reading.”
“Then go, and may the stars’ favor follow.” Sulian starts to turn. Eugene grabs the stable master’s arm as one last bolt of inspiration strikes.
“Maximus,” Eugene says. “With the white coat. You want to distract Enver? Give that horse a sword.”