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“Wow,” Frederic said. “Now I feel kind of guilty.”
“Don’t,” Reginald added quickly. “You need to live your own life and do things your way. After all, you’ve got your mother’s blood in you. You need to know that. And it was time for you to finally hear the whole story.”
A knock at the door interrupted them. “Frederic?” It was Ella.
Reginald let her in. “Good evening, milady. I was just going.” He gave Frederic a formal nod and exited.
“Shut the door and come here,” Frederic said in a giddy whisper. He was standing by the corner of his bed, vibrating.
“What is it?” she asked, curious as to what had Frederic in such a state.
“My mother died trying to steal me a golden ducky!”
“Oh, my. That’s . . . I’m sorry, I don’t actually know how to respond to that.”
“I only just found out,” Frederic went on. “She was an adventurer, a real hero type. My mother—can you believe it? It’s fascinating. You know, this is probably why I’m so drawn to people like you and Liam.”
“Liam! He’s why I came to you. He’s leaving tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow? But where will he go?”
“Nowhere,” Ella answered. “He’s going to wander the world or something. He thinks he’s outstayed his welcome here.”
“Well, with my dad, maybe. But certainly not with me,” Frederic said. “I should share this new revelation about my mother with him. It might help him understand why my father acts the way he does.”
“Let’s go,” Ella said. She grabbed Frederic by the hand, and they hurried back toward the balcony where she’d left Liam.
Maybe Gustav could use a roommate, Liam thought as he stood on the balcony gazing at the dim sliver of moon in the sky. Nah, who am I kidding? He’d cut up all my capes while I slept.
A sudden clinking sound snapped him out of his musings. He looked to his left and saw something shiny glinting by the balcony railing. On closer inspection, he saw that it was a metal grappling hook.
“What the—?”
Liam peered over the edge. A rope hung down to the gardens below, but there was no one on it. He put his hand on his sword, but before he could draw it, he was clonked on the head by a short, heavy club.
Ella and Frederic appeared at the balcony door just in time to get a glimpse of a hooded man scaling a rope up to the terra-cotta-tile palace roof. The intruder had Liam, unconscious, slung over his shoulder.
“Liam!” Ella shouted. She dove out onto the balcony and grabbed the intruder’s rope. “Drop him,” she snarled as she yanked the line back and forth.
“Stop that,” the stranger moaned as his boots slid from the wall. He was left dangling momentarily but quickly managed to regain his footing. He glared down at Ella. “Think. You don’t really want me to drop your friend from this height.”
In a second he was over the roof’s edge and out of sight.
“Frederic, hold the rope steady,” Ella said. “I’m going after him.”
“I should call the guards,” Frederic argued, but he grabbed the rope nonetheless. Ella made it halfway up to the roof before the kidnapper kicked the grappling hook from its perch. Ella, the rope, and the iron hook all tumbled down onto Frederic.
“Crud,” Ella muttered. “We’ll catch him on the other side!” She jumped to her feet and drew her rapier. But she was stopped in her tracks by King Wilberforce and four royal guards.
“Swordplay. I knew it,” the king said. “As soon as I heard the noise, I said to myself, ‘There they go again.’ I knew you would disobey my orders, but frankly, I’d hoped you’d be able to restrain yourselves for longer than twenty minutes.”
“No one’s playing here, Your Highness,” Ella said urgently. “This is real. Liam was just kidnapped.”
King Wilberforce chuckled. “I sincerely doubt that. Crimes do not occur within the walls of the Harmonian royal palace.”
“We saw it, Father,” Frederic insisted. “A hooded man just grabbed Liam and swooped onto the roof.”
“Oh, so he’s a flying kidnapper?” the king said with a sarcastic smile.
“You’re letting him get away,” Ella barked.
“Seriously, Father, please send your guards out to the gates!” Frederic begged. “You might be able to catch the criminal before he gets off the palace grounds!”
Wilberforce let out a long, slow breath. “If it means so much to you.” He turned to his guards. “You two: Step outside and look for any signs of a magical winged bogeyman.”
A pair of guardsmen bowed and marched off.
“And we’ll go this way,” Ella said as she began to leave in the opposite direction.
“Stop her,” Wilberforce said, and the remaining two guards stepped in front of Ella to block her exit.
“What are you doing, Father?” asked Frederic.
“If there’s anything dangerous going on, my men will handle it,” the king said. “Neither of you will be involved. And to make sure of that, I’m confining you both to your rooms for the night. Guards, take these two to their quarters and stand watch outside their doors until morning.”
Ella considered trying to overtake the men. But she knew it would only cause more trouble. She reluctantly sheathed her sword as the guards nudged her and Frederic down the hall.
“He wore a cape,” Ella said as they walked.
“Who?” Frederic asked.
“The kidnapper. He was a villain with a cape. See? I was right.”
“Actually, it had a hood,” Frederic said. “So technically, it was a cowl.”
Ella sighed.
King Wilberforce watched them disappear around a corner. Then he closed and locked the balcony doors. That was convenient, he thought. With that Erinthian gone, it’s one nuisance down, one to go.
Frederic was sitting slumped on his bed. His father had won again. Why do I turn into a helpless infant every time that man raises his voice, he thought. How does he do it to me? He was startled by the sound of his window creaking open.
“Are you coming?” Ella asked, poking her head inside.
Frederic jumped to his feet and ran over to her.
“What are you standing on?” he asked.
“The ledge.”
“It’s so narrow!”
“Don’t act like you’ve never heard of tiptoeing, Frederic—I’ve seen you sneak behind the drapes every time Liam suggests going for a run. So, are you coming?”
“Where?”
“To find Liam. I figured out who took him.”
“I suspect my father is behind it,” Frederic said sorrowfully.
“No, it’s Briar Rose!” Ella blurted. She blinked her wide eyes repeatedly as words spilled from her mouth at a rapid pace. She couldn’t have looked more wired if she’d just guzzled an entire pot of double-strength Carpagian Wide-Awake Brew. “I know who the kidnapper is; I put all the clues together. The hood, the little gray beard, the mumbly voice like somebody just killed his puppy: That’s exactly how Lila described Ruffian the Blue, the bounty hunter. And who does Ruffian the Blue work for?”
“Bri—” Frederic began to answer.
“Briar Rose! Exactly!” Ella shouted (and then shushed herself). “Briar is still bent on marrying Liam; and now she’s going to force the wedding to happen, and you and I have to go to Avondell and stop it. So, are you coming?”
“Right now?” Frederic asked. “Can’t we just wait until morning and leave through the front doorway?”
“Do you really think your father’s going to let us?”
“No, you’re right.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do it. I think I’m pretty much ready to go.”
Ella frowned when she noticed how Frederic was dressed: a pale yellow suit with a royal-blue sash across the chest and tasseled shoulder pads. “You changed into formal wear?” she asked. “When you thought you would be locked in your room all night?”
“It helps me relax.”
“Suit yourself,” Ella said.
“I just did.” Frederic laughed.
“Did what?”
“Suit mys— Never mind.”
“Okay, let’s head out,” said Ella. “Take your sword, though.”
“You know,” Frederic hedged. “Like I said before, I’m not really a sword person.”
“Take your sword,” Ella repeated.
He attached the sword to his belt along with a pouch of coins and a small satchel of writing implements, then he climbed through the window to join Ella on the ledge. He wobbled a bit when he got a view of the lantern-lit walkways three stories below. “I’m not really a heights man either.”
Ella put her hand under his chin and raised his head to look him in the eyes. “You’re my hero, Frederic. You can do this.”
“Of course I can,” Frederic said. “I’ve got narrow feet.”
As the two shimmied along the ledge, it occurred to Frederic that he was finally doing what Ella had always wanted him to: going on an adventure with her.
And she asked me to, he thought. She didn’t run off to rescue Liam on her own. She wants me by her side. Perhaps there’s hope for us yet. The pair sidled around a corner and onto the balcony where the kidnapping had taken place. As Ella had hoped, the bounty hunter’s rope and grappling hook were still lying there in a pile. She tossed the barbed hook up to the roof, where it caught onto the side of a chimney.
“Shall we?”
Climbing up onto the roof, running along the ramparts, descending into the gardens behind the palace, and hopping over the exterior gates all took much longer than Ella had hoped—Frederic moved with the speed of a wobbly toddler wearing shoes for the first time. By the time they were off the palace grounds, the sun was coming up.
“I am so tired,” Frederic said, collapsing on the grass.
“Well,” Ella said, sitting down next to him, “we need to pause and figure out a plan anyway.”
“Oh, I have a plan,” Frederic said. He pulled two pieces of parchment and a quill from his satchel. He quickly dashed off two notes, rolled them up, and stood. “Let’s head into town and hire a messenger to deliver these. It’s time to get the League of Princes back together.”
(#ulink_707a77f4-2565-5116-8db9-22fd0f8340fb)
Mere words cannot defeat a true hero. Unless they happen to be the words to some sort of Instant Death spell. Magic is scary.
—THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO
ix months before Liam’s kidnapping, Prince Gustav exploded. Not literally. Although there was quite a mess. You see, Gustav did not share the same taste in music as his sixteen older brothers. The elder princes, for example, adored “The Sixteen Hero Princes of Sturmhagen.” That song had everything: an evil witch, five kidnapped bards, sixteen strong, young heroes. The only thing it didn’t have was Gustav, the seventeenth and youngest of the Sturmhagen princes—which was unfortunate, as Gustav was the only one of them actually involved in saving the bards. Suffice it to say Gustav didn’t care for the song. Nor was he a fan of “The Embarrassment of the League of Princes,” a tune his brothers couldn’t get enough of. After a full year of mocking Gustav for his failure to rescue Rapunzel, they were pleased to have a new reason to taunt him.
And taunt him they did. They never let Gustav forget that the Bandit King—whom the world now knew to be a ten-year-old boy—managed to rob him in full view of about a thousand people. Prince Sigfrid (#7) spattered Gustav with baby food. Osvald (#5) startled him with shouts of “Don’t look down! There’s a toddler crawling after you!” Alvar (#3) even pinned a sign to his back that read PROPERTY OF BANDIT KING. IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN TO TOY BOX. Every time something like this happened, Gustav gritted his teeth, grumbled unseemly things under his breath, and stomped away—which, for him, showed incredible self-restraint. Despite being six-foot-five and having biceps the size of watermelons, he was the smallest member of his family. His older brothers teased him through most of his life; and in the past Gustav responded to their jibes with flying fists, thrown furniture, and sometimes even a good, old-fashioned head butt. The past year had changed him, though. Gustav was more mature now. He vowed that he would not let his brothers get the better of him.
But he was fooling himself. Gustav couldn’t swear off tantrums any more than a volcano could promise not to erupt. It was on the day of his brothers’ birthday party (all sixteen, having been born in two sets of octuplets exactly one year apart, had the same birthday) that Gustav finally lost it.
The entire kingdom came out for the big celebration, which was held in the big cobblestone courtyard outside Castle Sturmhagen. HAPPY BIRTHDAY banners were hung everywhere, bands played, food vendors handed out turkey legs and ostrich eggs, and crowds of Sturmhageners danced merrily in their leathery, fur-lined suits and dresses. All the birthday boys, from Henrik (#1) to Viktor (#16), were seated at the lengthy table of honor on a central stage. Only Gustav sat by himself, at a tiny round table-for-one that had been set for him on the outer edge of the courtyard. Behind the crowd. Under a drippy rain gutter. Next to a stinking barrel with a sign that read PLEASE DEPOSIT BONES AND OTHER UNCHEWABLES HERE.
Gustav watched glumly as his parents, King Olaf and Queen Berthilda, led a procession of bakers up onto the stage. The bakers carried an eight-foot-by-four-foot, seventy-pound sheet cake, topped with marzipan sculptures of all sixteen princes. The colossal dessert was set on a viewing platform near the edge of the stage so the crowd could marvel at it.
Fig. 4 GUSTAV, celebrating
Then Lyrical Leif, Sturmhagen’s royal bard, was introduced. The round-bodied musician pranced onstage wearing his usual green tights, puffy gold blouse-shirt, and floppy feathered hat. He took a proudly over-the-top bow and announced—to great applause—that he would serenade the birthday boys with his hit, “The Sixteen Hero Princes of Sturmhagen.”
As Leif began strumming his lute and singing (“Dear hearts, listen well to a tale most sublime / of sixteen strong princes—that’s seven plus nine”), Gustav decided he was done being ignored. He stood up, kicked the barrel of unchewables at an oblivious trio of swaying Leif fans, and shoved his way through the crowd to the stage. He climbed up and stood face-to-face with the bard (or bellybutton-to-face, really—Lyrical Leif wasn’t very tall). A tense quiet fell over the square.
“No one wants to hear that song anymore, Featherhead,” Gustav declared. “Sing the one about me.” In his heavy, fur-lined armor, with his shoulders heaving and his long blond hair hanging over his face, Gustav was an undeniably imposing figure. But the roly-poly Leif was undaunted.
“Oh, ‘The Song of Rapunzel’? In which you got beaten by the old lady and Rapunzel had to rescue you?” Leif asked sarcastically. He turned to the audience: “Who out there wants to hear ‘Rapunzel’?”
Scores of people raised their hands and hooted.
“You know which song I mean,” Gustav growled. “The one where I’m a hero.”
“Oh. You’re talking about that song in which you play the part of Cinderella’s little helper.” Leif made an over-the-top frowny face. “I’m afraid we don’t get many requests for that tune. It’s a tad too unbelievable, I think.”
His brothers crowed with laughter. As did most of the crowd.
“Starf it all,” Gustav cursed under his breath. If he couldn’t get people to like him, maybe he could at least get them to hate him. Anything was better than being laughed at.
Gustav abruptly reached out, grabbed Lyrical Leif’s floppy hat by the brim, and yanked it down to the bard’s shoulders. The cap split down the middle as Leif’s head burst through the shimmery fabric. Gustav then grabbed the bard by the seat of his tights and hoisted him up in the air with one hand. With the other hand, he reached down and scooped up a handful of richly frosted birthday cake—which he proceeded to smoosh all over Leif’s shocked face before dropping the singer on his ample belly.
As horrified gasps and shouts of derision sounded from all around the square, Gustav grinned and wiped his hands clean. “Maybe now,” he declared, “you’ll show some respect to the mighty Prince Gustav.”
