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“Oh, Duncan!” King King called out. “Where are you? I want you to taste this pea I found under my bed.”
The king—who had announced the family’s arrival himself because no servants were willing to travel with them—strode into the yard wearing his favorite pillow-top crown and long, zebra-striped robe. A blue jay zoomed by and snatched a tiny green pea from between the king’s thumb and forefinger. “Oh, well,” King King said.
He opened his arms and beckoned for a hug. Snow nudged Duncan toward him.
“Hello, Dad,” Duncan said as his father wrapped him in a tight embrace.
“Son,” King King said happily. “You’ve grown. Or perhaps I’ve shrunk.”
Queen Apricotta stepped in alongside her husband. She wore her red hair in long pigtails that flopped against her silver gown as she walked. “Hello, hello! It’s nice to see you, Snow,” she said. “Ooh, that rhymed! That was fun. I should say hello to you more often.”
“Good afternoon, Your Highnesses,” Snow said with a curtsy. “And you, too, Mavis. Marvella.”
The stoop-shouldered, inky-haired twins stood behind their mother, both wearing feathered shirts and homemade wings strapped to their backs. Their noses were painted yellow. “We’re owls,” the girls said in unison.
“Fantastic,” Snow said, because that was the best thing she could think to say at the moment. “Would anyone like some tea?”
“Tea!” the king shouted as he finally released Duncan from the hug.
“Tea!” the queen echoed.
“S!” yelled Mavis.
“Q!” yelled Marvella.
“Okay,” said Snow.
“P, X!” added Marvella, who assumed that the game had now changed to calling out two letters at a time.
“D, A!” said Mavis.
“B, K!” said the king.
Duncan leaned over to Snow and whispered, “This could go on for a while.”
“Ooh, the dwarfs are here,” Queen Apricotta noted with delight. “They’re fun.”
“Dwarves,” Frank corrected.
King King crouched down in front of Frak. “Show me how you fellows do birdcalls. You do such wonderful birdcalls.”
“He’s squatting,” Frak complained to no one in particular.
“I can do a crow song. Want to hear?” the king said. He stood up and puffed out his chest. “Ka-caw! Ka-caw!”
“I learned a song about dwarfs,” the queen announced.
“Dwarves,” said Frank.
“I think it goes like this,” Apricotta continued. “Dwarfs, dwarfs, dwarfs, dwarfs! Dwarfs, dwarfs, dwarfs, dwarfs!”
The twins started pulling feathers from each other’s costumes and blowing them at Frid and Ferd.
Duncan whispered to Snow again, “I can’t tell if this is going well or not.”
Flik walked over to Frank and pointed to the garden gate. There was another person standing out there.
“I’ll handle it,” Frank said, and eagerly darted away from the chaos.
Smimf, the messenger, was waiting at the entrance to the yard. Frank eyed him suspiciously.
“Excuse me, sir,” Smimf said. “I’m looking for Prince Duncan.”
“He’s busy,” Frank said. “What do you want?”
“I have a message here for Prince Duncan.” He held up the note.
“Give it here,” Frank said.
“I have strict orders that the message is only to be delivered to Prince Duncan.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s me,” Frank said. “I’m Prince Duncan.”
“Then here you are, sir, Your Highness, sir.” Smimf handed over the note.
Frank’s eyes lit up as he read Frederic’s letter. “Hey, kid, wait here,” he said, and he started back into the yard.
“Yes, sir, Your Highness, sir,” the messenger said. “And my name is Smimf.”
Frank stopped. “Duncan gave you that name, didn’t he?”
“I thought you were Duncan, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said with a tinge of horror.
“Nah, but I’m gonna go get him.” Frank dashed off.
Smimf swallowed hard. My second job ever, and I’ve already muffed it up, he thought.
Frank returned several minutes later with Duncan and Flik.
“What’s this all about, Frank?” Duncan asked as the dwarfs pulled him to the gate.
“Read this,” Frank said. He shoved the note into Duncan’s hands.
“Sorry, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said. “I thought the other gentleman was you.”
“Really?” Duncan asked, looking up. “But I’m famous.”
“Just read,” Frank urged.
Duncan finished reading the letter. “Does this mean what I think it means?” he asked.
“Knowing you, probably not,” Frank said. “It means one of your Prince Charming buddies got kidnapped. And you need to go help rescue him.”
“That’s sort of almost what I thought it meant,” Duncan said, feeling rather happy with himself.
“So, go,” Frank said. He handed Duncan a small sack. “I’m sure this bag has whatever you’ll need.”
“Well, I’m not certain how to get to Avondell,” Duncan said. “Although I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“Oh, no,” said Flik. “We don’t want you getting lost and circling back here.”
“That’s why you’re gonna go with this kid here.” Frank pointed to Smimf.
“Oh, um, yes, sir, Your Highness, sir,” the messenger said. “The name’s Smimf. I can lead you there. But I’m pretty fast. I hope you can keep up.”
Flik dashed off to the stable and came back leading a dappled brown-and-white horse.
“Ah, Papa Scoots Jr.!” Duncan said. “He’s a speedy steed. I’m sure he can keep up with your horse, Mr. Smimf.”
“It’s just Smimf, sir, Your Highness, sir. And I don’t use a horse.”
“No horse?” Duncan questioned as Flik and Frank hoisted him up onto Papa Scoots Jr. “Walking will take forever, though.”
“Not for me, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said. “I’ve got these special boots. Seven-league boots, they’re called.”
“Seven leagues! We princes only have one,” Duncan said. “Do the members of all seven leagues get to wear such snazzy boots?”
“A league is a measure of distance, sir, Your Highness, sir. Three miles. The boots let me take very long steps. But I can go slower so you can follow me.”
“That is so neat,” Duncan said. “And please, tell me about the rest of your ensemble. I’d never considered wearing short-pants with a scarf and hat, but I admit it’s quite fetching.”
“Oh, well, the boots make me run really fast,” Smimf answered, “which makes my legs get hot, so I wear the shorts. But when I move with that kind of speed, the wind makes my upper half rather cold. So I wear the woolens. It all works out quite well when I’m running. Though it can get uncomfortable when I’m standing still. Like now.” He pulled off his hat and rung out a bit of his dripping, sweaty hair.
“You two can chat about fashion on the way,” Frank said impatiently. “You’re wasting time. Leave now.”
“Yeah, before Snow White sees,” added Flik.
Duncan winced. “Ooh, Snow. I’d better talk to her about this before I go.”
“There’s no time; your friend is in danger,” Frank said. “We’ll talk to Snow for you. Don’t worry.”
“You sure?” Duncan asked. “But what if—”
“This is hero business, remember?” Frank said. “The world needs you. Or something like that. She’ll understand. Now go.”
“Well, you are right about my hero responsibilities,” Duncan said. “But—”
“Go!” Frank barked.
“All right,” Duncan said. “Lead the way, Mr. Smimf.”
Smimf took one step and seemed to vanish into thin air.
“Huh? I didn’t even see which direction he went,” Duncan said, stunned.
Smimf reappeared. “Sorry, sir, Your Highness, sir. I’ve got to remember to keep it slower. Let’s try again.” He ran off at a startling speed, but Duncan was at least able to see him this time.
“Onward, Papa Scoots Jr.!” Duncan shouted, and rode off after the messenger.
Frank rubbed his hands together. He’d gotten rid of Duncan. And the royal family had Snow in such a tizzy that it would probably be hours before she realized her husband was missing. Frank and Flik did something very rare for Sylvarian dwarfs: They smiled.
(#ulink_66e481be-0d93-5886-b906-93c9c4073c44)
You’re never too young to start being a hero. Practice dueling one-handed so you never need to drop your blankie.
—THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO
“
ow do you like your new throne?” asked Princess Briar Rose. She looked as smug and superior as ever, standing on the red carpet of her statue-lined royal reception chamber in Avondell Palace. She wore a ruby-studded gown and sapphire-tipped shoes. Her arms were covered by long silk gloves that were only slightly whiter than her bone-pale skin, and a diamond tiara was tucked into the mountain of thick auburn hair piled atop her head. She crossed her arms and flashed a self-satisfied grin at Liam, who sat before her in a gold-plated, velvet-cushioned super-seat.
“I’d like it better if I wasn’t chained to it,” Liam said. Iron shackles bound his ankles to the legs of the throne. “Seriously. My feet are going numb. Can we loosen these cuffs a bit?”
“Sorry if your tootsies are sore, Tough Guy,” Briar snickered. “Better get used to it. How else can I make sure you don’t try to run before the wedding?”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Liam said. “You obviously hate me. Why would you want to be tied to me for the rest of your life?”
“Haven’t we been through this before, Lover Boy?” she said. “It’s destiny. You were promised to me when we were both eensy-weensy babies. And when something is promised to me, I make sure I get it.”
Liam couldn’t argue those facts. Back when Briar was an infant and he was only three years old, their parents made arrangements for the two to someday be married. But Briar ended up spending the majority of her life hiding from an evil fairy’s curse, and when Liam woke her from an enchanted slumber and finally got to meet her in person, he discovered she’d become a spoiled brat. He called off the wedding—and in doing so earned himself the scorn of both their kingdoms.
“But I still don’t get why you want to marry me. You spent the last year spreading lies about me and destroying my reputation,” Liam said bitterly. “Your people despise me. Do you think they’ll be happy to see me by your side?”
“They will feel however I tell them to feel,” Briar said. “I’m pretty much a goddess around here. And besides, nobody cares about your precious little reputation. You’re just here to be eye candy.”
That comment struck a nerve (not the eye candy bit—the part about Liam’s reputation). “You’ve tried to take everything from me just to be spiteful,” he said coldly. “But no matter what people may think, I know who I am. Being a hero is all I have lived for—ever since I was three years old and I saved the lives of your parents.”
Briar chuckled. “Oh, yes, that’s right—those two professional assassins you managed to beat up when you were just a toddler,” she said. “Nothing about that story ever seemed—oh, I don’t know—a wee bit fishy to you?”
“Look,” Liam said, “if you’re going to force me to marry you, why drag it out? Why aren’t you calling a cleric in here right now to perform the ceremony and get it over with?”
Briar shook her head in disbelief. “I’m a princess, darling. And not just any princess. I’m heir to the throne of the richest kingdom on the continent. I am having a proper royal wedding: platinum coach pulled by two dozen white horses, ninety-eight-piece marching band, cannons blasting a salute, thirty-foot-tall bouquets of flowers most people thought were extinct, little mesh bags of those pink and white candied almonds—everything!”
“And the groom in chains?” Liam asked.
“Why not?” Briar said dismissively. “I’m going to look so fabulous, most people won’t even notice you anyway. Seriously, look at us next to each other.” She sat down in the throne next to Liam’s and struck a regal pose.
“Adore me, people,” she commanded.
