But often, Gareth and Gertrude just forgot about Lila. Once they decided not to be constantly annoyed by her, the princess was easy to overlook. The king and queen, like almost everyone else in Erinthia, spent the majority of their time focused on Liam.
Lila was thinking about her brother—and how much she felt she owed him—as she approached the doors to Briar Rose’s throne room in Avondell. The crowds back home in Erinthia simply weren’t calming down. In fact, as rumors about the vicious manner in which Liam had supposedly broken off the engagement started trickling across the border, the Erinthian people started hating Liam even more. Citizens were burning capes in protest. The only person who could set the record straight, Lila thought, was Briar Rose. So she traveled to Avondell to request her aid.
Lila had ridden alone. She assumed her parents wouldn’t be keen on any plan to help Liam escape his forced wedding, so she told her mother she was going to her room to conduct an experiment that would compare the intestinal linings of several different reptiles (“I’ll have plenty to eat in there, so don’t expect me for dinner! Or breakfast!”). That was sure to make her parents steer clear for a few days at least.
“Would it please the young lady to make her intentions known?” asked one of a pair of stiff-backed guards.
“Yes, sure, I’m here to see Briar Rose,” Lila said as she straightened the collar of her canary-yellow gown and brushed a loose ringlet of hair from in front of her eyes.
“Princess Briar Rose?” the guard corrected.
“Oh, yes, sorry. Princess Briar Rose,” Lila said. The guard didn’t move a muscle. Nor did he say anything more. He just looked at her, waiting.
“The most royal and … impressive Princess Briar Rose?” Lila tried. “Her Gracious Majesty Princess Briar Rose? Of the great and powerful kingdom of Avondell. She who is also known as the Sleeping Beauty of legend. And who I hear has really nice hair?” The guard still stared at her expectantly. Lila sighed, beginning to feel like she’d failed before she even got to lay eyes on Briar. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what else you’re waiting for me to say.”
The second guard pointed at Lila. She pointed at herself in response and raised her eyebrows questioningly. The guard nodded. Lila shrugged and shook her head; she had no idea what the man was getting at. “Announce yourself,” he whispered.
“Oh,” Lila said, standing taller. “I am Lila, princess of Erinthia and current Cross-Duchy Science Fair champ. And sister of Prince Liam of Erinthia.” The first guard scowled at the mention of Liam’s name. “Who I have nothing to do with, really,” she quickly added. “We’re related, but that’s about it. This visit has nothing to do with him. Just, uh, just think of this as one princess consulting with another … about … tiaras. I would like Princess Briar’s opinion on a tiara.”
The second guard chuckled. “I’ll announce you,” he said. He entered the throne room and shut the door behind him. The first guard still looked like he had a mouthful of hot peppers and nowhere to spit them out. Lila tried not to make eye contact with him.
A second later, the friendlier guard reappeared and said, “The princess will see you.” He held the door open for Lila and gestured for her to come inside. As she stepped onto the red carpet of the marble-walled, art-filled throne room, Lila quickly rolled down the sleeves of her gown. She cringed when she saw how wrinkled the sleeves were. Ugh, pretty messy for a proper princess, she thought. I’ve got to do this right. For Liam.
She contemplated rolling her sleeves back up but decided it was too late: There was Briar Rose, in a boldly glitter-specked violet dress, sitting on a gem-studded, velvet-lined throne at the end of the long crimson carpet. Briar sat quietly, looking serene and contemplative (in a regal sort of way), watching Lila approach.
Well, Liam was right about her hair, Lila thought. Very fluffy.
When Lila was about twenty feet from the throne, the guard whispered from the corner of his mouth, “Stop there.”
“Thanks,” Lila whispered back. She glanced over to the guard with a look that silently asked, Do I start?
The guard nodded. Then he walked back out to his post and shut the door behind him.
Lila looked at Briar, offered a stiff curtsy, brushed back the loose ringlet, and began, “Oh, most noble and esteemed Princess Briar Rose, I come seeking aid that Your Grace alone has the power to provide.” That sounded pretty good, she thought happily.
“Dear, sweet child,” Briar began, “my sister princess. Trust that your request will be given all the attention it is due.” Briar Rose suddenly began laughing. It was more of a cackle, really. And quite loud. “Nothing! It is due nothing!” she screeched.
Lila took a small step back.
“You seek my aid? You want my help?” Briar scoffed, standing up and creeping toward Lila. “You? The sister of the man who betrayed and humiliated me? Why in the world do you think I would help you with anything?”
“But you haven’t even heard what I wanted to ask,” Lila tried to interject.
“Are you going to ask me to marry your brother, whom you’ve helpfully brought along with you, wrapped in chains out in the hallway? Because if it’s anything else, the answer is NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
The force of that “no” nearly blew Lila over.
“You didn’t bring him here, did you?” Briar asked, just to be sure.
“No,” Lila said, trying to get her bearings. “Is this the way you acted around my brother? Because, if so, I’m kinda seeing why he didn’t want to marry you.”
“Your brother’s a coward,” Briar said, casually flipping her curls. “He’s just not strong enough to handle pure, unadulterated Briar Rose. Which is exactly what I want in a husband, to tell the truth. And Liam is still going to be my husband.”
“Well, you know, that’s sorta why I came here,” Lila said. “If you want any chance of still marrying my brother, you need to talk to the people out there and let them know that all those rumors about him aren’t true.”
“Why would I do that?” Briar said, with a laugh. “I started those rumors.”
“You’re awful. He was a hero, and you’ve ruined his reputation,” Lila said angrily.
“He deserved it. And besides, he was coming dangerously close to being more popular than I was. No worries about that now. The man’s a fool, though. Look what he wanted to give up.” Briar gestured toward an elaborate stained-glass window. “Gorgeous, isn’t it? Do you know how hard and long toddlers have to work to create something that beautiful? Oh, and—mmmmmmm, look at this.” She sprinted over and lifted the silver lid from a plate on a small table next to her throne, revealing what appeared to be a miniature egg, sunny-side up. “Endangered Sylvarian hummingbird,” she announced. She popped the yolk with a long, painted fingernail and tasted it. “Ooh, it’s true. That is simply the creamiest egg I’ve ever tasted. A shame there are only about ten left in the world.”
“Coming here was a mistake,” Lila muttered. Briar was obviously not open to negotiations. “I’ll show myself out.” She started toward the exit.
“Oh, no you don’t, you little brat,” Briar said. “You’re not walking out on me the same way your good-for-nothing brother did.” Briar marched toward Lila, but the younger princess had already dashed back out into the hall.
“Thanks, guys,” Lila blurted as she tore past the dumbstruck guards and zipped out of the palace.
“Where is she?” Briar seethed when she reached the doorway and saw no sign of the girl. The two guards both started babbling, not sure of the best way to answer. “Never mind,” Briar said. “I need to start being proactive here, or this wedding’s never going to happen. Get me Ruffian the Blue.”
Ten minutes later, after dodging several armed guards outside the palace, slinking behind a row of animal-shaped shrubbery, and scaling the tall neck of a giraffe-shaped hedge, Lila crouched on the sill of a window outside Briar’s throne room. She inched the stained-glass casement window open and peered inside to see Briar speaking to a sour
-faced man in a dark hooded cloak: Ruffian the Blue, noted to be the best bounty hunter in all the land. When it came to tracking people down and capturing them, there really was no one better. Ruffian wasn’t the most sociable person, though. When he got started in the manhunting business, he wanted to call himself Ruffian the Black or Ruffian the Red, either of which had a nice intimidating sound. But Ruffian was kind of a depressing guy. And his reputation for being sad and mopey all the time got people calling him Ruffian the Blue.
“… obviously never going to come back of his own accord,” Briar was saying.
“I’ll bring him to you,” the man said in a flat, gloomy voice.
“Of course you will, genius,” Briar snarked. “That’s why I’m paying you.”
Fig. 22 RUFFIAN the BLUE
“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Ruffian said.
“Hey, if you don’t want the job, I’m sure there are a hundred other bounty hunters out there who’ll take it.” Briar tossed a cherry into her mouth, chomped it, and spit the pit at the man. It bounced off his chest. He watched it roll across the floor.
“That was unnecessary,” he said with a sniffle. “I said I’d get him.”
“Stop whining and start prince-hunting, all right?”
“I’m going,” the bounty hunter droned. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. With his head down, he shuffled out of the room.
Briar turned to a guard, who stood behind her. “That’s Ruffian the Blue?” she asked. “Are we sure we got the right guy?”
The guard nodded.
“What a moaner,” Briar griped.
Outside, Lila hopped down from the windowsill. She scurried to the front of the castle and watched from behind a lamppost as Ruffian the Blue mounted his dark gray steed and rode off. There’s only one way for me to warn Liam, Lila said to herself. I’ve got to follow the creepy hooded guy.
10
PRINCE CHARMING ANNOYS THE KING
The morning after their abduction from the bandit hideout in Sylvaria, the four Princes Charming awoke inside a dusty, drafty jail cell. There were no cots or mattresses, just a cold stone floor caked with the grime of prisoners past. Liam’s sword, Gustav’s ax, and Duncan’s flute were nowhere to be seen.
Liam, as usual, was the first to snap out of his haze. He surveyed his groggy companions with dismay. Their performance during the previous night’s fight did not inspire confidence. But we were taken by surprise; people were half-asleep, he rationalized. Everybody has a bad night now and then. I’m sure that’s all it was.
“Wake up, people,” Liam said. “We’ve been captured.”
“Oh, dear,” moaned Frederic. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“I was just wondering the same thing,” Liam muttered.
“I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed,” Duncan said as he stretched his stiff arms and legs. “My very first fight, and it was over so quickly.”
“We could fight right now if you’d like,” said Gustav, standing up and glaring at Duncan.
“Save it for the bad guys,” Liam interjected. He jumped to his feet and peered through the cell’s one tiny barred window. “The first thing we need to do is figure out where we are.”
“What’s to figure out? We’re in prison.” Frederic sighed. Then, as his own words sank in, he gasped. “Oh, dear. I’m in prison. Prison! And I thought that inn that smelled like onions was bad.”
“Yes, we’re in a prison, but where is this prison?” said Liam. “Let’s see, we’re about three stories up. I see thick pine forests out there, and mountaintops beyond the trees to the north. One peak is very distinct—it’s almost curved and comes to a sharp point at the summit. And I think that might be the spire of a tower to the south of the mountain, but it’s hard to tell.”
“Does it really make a difference what kingdom we’re in, if we’re locked behind these bars?” Frederic asked, despondent. He was beginning to believe he’d never see Ella again. Or dear Reginald. Or his father, who had apparently been right about everything. I survived an attack by a witch and a giant, he thought. Why didn’t I quit while I was ahead? I should have just sent Liam to rescue Ella. I don’t belong here. I belong back home at the palace. In a bubble bath.
Fig. 23 Mount BATWING
Frederic was startled out of his self-pitying daydreams when Gustav shoved him aside in a rush to reach the window.
“This is fantastic!” Gustav announced.
“You and I must have different definitions of ‘fantastic,’” said Frederic.
“That curvy mountaintop out there—that’s Mount Batwing!” Gustav burst out. “We’re in Sturmhagen!”
“Are you sure?” asked Liam.
“I’ve seen that peak a thousand times. It’s pretty hard to miss,” Gustav said. “We’re definitely in Sturmhagen.”
Liam breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he hadn’t failed his companions after all. “So those bandits did us a favor and carried us exactly where we wanted to go.”
“You’re welcome!” exclaimed Duncan.
“You did nothing.” Gustav scowled at him.
“It’s just a lucky break is all I’m saying,” Duncan said. “However we got here, we’re here—and that’s a good thing, no? I’ve always wanted to visit Sturmhagen. Hey, Gustav, don’t you Sturmhageners have a big zucchini festival this time of year? I’m a big fan of the zukes.”
“Duncan, we’re still in prison,” Frederic said dryly. “You’re not going to see anything except this cell. Which has spiders, by the way. Have you noticed the spiders?”
“Indeed I have: Carmen, Zippy, and Dr. T,” Duncan said.
Gustav glanced back out the window toward Mount Batwing. Something big was moving around at the base of the mountain, causing the trees to shift and sway. And sticking out above the highest branches—was that … a head? Gustav got his answer to that question when he saw a giant hand rise up and scratch vigorously at the enormous scalp.
“Hey, Cape-Face. Check this out,” Gustav said.
But before Liam had a chance to rejoin Gustav at the window, the princes were distracted by the sound of footsteps along the corridor outside their cell. Neville and Horace stopped and eyed them smugly through the bars. Eyeing smugly was something the pair excelled in. They’d actually shared the title of Best Smug Eyers in their graduating class at bandit school.
“So, which of these blokes did you say you recognized, Horace?” Neville asked his burly companion.
“That long-haired piker by the window there,” Horace said, pointing his boxy chin at Gustav. “He’s a member of the royal family here in Sturmhagen, I know it. I seen ’im there a little while ago, while I was staking out the castle for our big you-know-what.”
“Well, well, we caught ourselves a prince,” Neville said with a cackle. “The boss is gonna like that, Horace, old mate. Looks like you and me are movin’ up in this organization.” Then, to Gustav, he added, “I don’t know what you was doin’ in our hideout back in Sylvaria, Yer Highness, but many thanks. Do you know the kinda ransom we’re gonna get for you? A real prince?”
“Ransom?” Gustav snapped back. “What you’re going to get is the full force of Sturmhagen’s army at your doorstep. And Erinthia’s army. And Sylvaria’s and Harmonia’s.”
Liam shook his head, mumbling, “Why did you just say that?”
“Sylvaria? Harmonia? Wait a minute. What am I missing here?” Neville asked. He could tell the big prisoner had just let something slip.
“Nothing!” Frederic jumped up. “He’s just very bad at geography. Can’t even remember which country he’s from.”
“There are four of ’em,” Horace mused. “Maybe one of ’em’s from each of those kingdoms.”
“But the kings of those places wouldn’t send armies for just anybody,” Neville said.
“My dad certainly wouldn’t,” Duncan piped up. “Sylvaria doesn’t even have an army.”
Horace laughed. “Neville, I think we captured ourselves four
princes.”
“You’re jumping to the wrong conclusion,” Liam said desperately.
“Save yer breath, Yer Highness,” snickered Neville. “Yer pal already gave you away. Come on, Horace, let’s go tell the boss we gots four princes for him.”
“Who’s this boss you keep mentioning?” Liam asked.
“Our boss? Oh, I’d wager you heard of ’im. His name is Deeb Rauber,” Horace said as he and Neville began to walk away. “But you probably know ’im as—”
“The Bandit King,” Liam finished, with a groan. “We’ve been captured by the Bandit King. This is not good.”
All four men’s faces fell. Everyone knew about the Bandit King, whose army of thieves and thugs terrorized every land from mountain to seashore. The Bandit King and his men would heist art treasures from a royal museum just as readily as they would swipe the last loaf of bread from a family of beggars. But as vile and nasty as any of his henchmen were, Deeb Rauber himself was far worse. His wickedness was legendary. At the age of six, young Deeb locked his parents in a cupboard, filled his pockets with every piece of gold the family had ever earned, and ran off to become a professional thief.
Two years later, when he was still only eight, Deeb Rauber stole the royal jewels of Valerium by kicking the country’s 103-year-old king in the belly and then snatching the crown right off the elderly monarch’s head as he doubled over in pain. The boy became so infamous for this heinous act that grown men—some of the worst criminals in the land—looked to him as their leader and signed on to follow him. More recently, Deeb Rauber had led his army of thieves on a crime spree across seven kingdoms. No heist was too big or too small: One day he’d steal the giant bells from the towers of five different cathedrals, and the next he’d pluck a rag doll from the hands of a crying toddler. Villages were sometimes left without a single coin when Deeb Rauber passed through. It was because of these diabolical acts and more that he earned the title the Bandit King. And that name sent a deathly chill through the veins of anyone who heard it. The princes were no exception.