The Hero's Guide to Storming the Castle (The League of Princes)

by Christopher Healy

  “You worry too much, Frederic,” Liam said.

  Frederic sighed and lifted his blade. “All right, but I want to state for the record that—eek!”

  Liam took several quick swipes at Frederic, and—much to everyone’s delight—Frederic managed to block them all. He had a giddy smile on his face as he whipped his sword back and forth to knock away each of his friend’s attacks. And then his father showed up.

  “What on earth is going on here?” King Wilberforce barked as he strode down the hallway.

  The sound of that deep baritone voice completely broke Frederic’s concentration. “Father,” he blurted, and turned his head at just the wrong moment. The tip of Liam’s blade sliced across Frederic’s cheek. Frederic yelped, dropped his weapon, and brought his hand up to cover the wound.

  “I’m so sorry!” Liam gasped.

  “Are you okay?” Ella called, running to her fiancé.

  The king marched up to them in a fury, dozens of medals jingling on his chest with every stomping footstep. “What have you done to my son?”

  “It was an accident,” Liam sputtered.

  “It’s just a scratch, Father,” Frederic said. He checked his fingertips, relieved to see only the slightest dot of red. If there had been any more blood, he would likely have lost his composure—which he did not want to do in his father’s presence. “And frankly, it would never have happened if you hadn’t yelled and distracted me.”

  “What did I do to deserve such disrespect?” King Wilberforce said, sounding appalled. “I, ruler of this realm, see my only son being assaulted by some hooligan and demand that the violence come to a stop. For this I deserve scorn?”

  “Some hooligan, Father?” Frederic asked. “Liam’s been living with us for almost a year.”

  “I know who he is,” the king said with disdain. “A supposed Prince Charming in exile from his own people, hated the world over because of the horrid manner in which he treated his Sleeping Beauty. A man to whom I have—against my best instincts—offered nothing but hospitality. And a hooligan who repays my kindness by fileting my son.”

  “Your Highness,” Liam said. “I appreciate all the kindness you have offered me. And as I’ve tried to explain before, the rumors about me and Briar Rose are untrue. She spread those lies to get back at me because I refused to marry her. And surely you know I never meant to hurt Frederic. I was merely—”

  “Oh, I know you probably didn’t intend to hurt him,” Wilberforce said. “But that’s the problem with you. You think Frederic can do things that he simply can’t. Putting my son in harm’s way appears to be a hobby for you. Are you going to deny that you almost got Frederic killed in that whole unfortunate witch fiasco?”

  Liam said nothing. Nor did Frederic, who, if he were a turtle, would have slipped happily into his shell at that moment.

  The king looked down his nose at the three friends. “There will be no more swordplay within these walls,” he stated. “Or anywhere on palace grounds, for that matter.”

  “But, Father,” Frederic began.

  “Sir,” Liam stepped in. “Frederic is getting quite . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to say “good.” “Well, he’s improving. With more training, he could—”

  “There will be no more training!” Wilberforce snapped. His perfectly groomed mustache quivered as he spoke, and a fleck of saliva hit a purple silk ribbon on his chest, leaving a tiny wet spot the likes of which no one had ever before seen on any king of Harmonia. “Push me too far, Erinthian, and I won’t hesitate to revoke the invitation I have so graciously extended to you. If I see you—any of the three of you—with a weapon in your hand, I will have you forcibly removed. Not just from my palace, but from the entire kingdom of Harmonia.” Wilberforce spun on his heels and marched down the hall. “Frederic, get to the nurse immediately,” he added as he left. “Make sure that horrible gash doesn’t scar.”

  Fig. 3

  King WILBERFORCE

  Frederic slumped down and sat on the edge of the philodendron pot. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Ella said, sitting next to him. She put her arm around him and gave a tight squeeze. “You did nothing wrong. And, hey, any time you need me to jump in and help out against Old King Grumpy-pants, just say the word.”

  “Thanks, Ella,” Frederic said, resting his head on her shoulder. “You’re very sweet.”

  Liam looked away. Sensing his discomfort, Frederic stood up.

  “I’m just embarrassed by the whole thing,” he said. “I’m going to bed early. You two have fun.” He hurried down the hall, leaving Ella and Liam alone.

  Liam opened a pair of glass doors and strolled out onto an ornate marble balcony. “I shouldn’t be here,” he sighed, watching the quickly setting sun. “I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

  “But you can’t go back to Erinthia,” Ella said, joining him outside. She looked at Liam in the warm glow of the lanterns that were being lit all along the palace grounds below. He was almost ridiculously perfect as the image of a hero: mocha-tan complexion, piercing green eyes, chiseled cheekbones, a fashionable cape and lustrous black hair, both billowing behind him in the late-spring breeze. He was standing, as he often did, with his hands on his hips and his head turned to one side, as if he were waiting for some invisible sculptor to carve a statue of him. It was the kind of thing Ella usually enjoyed teasing him about, but she was too concerned to joke around.

  “I mean, you still don’t want to marry Briar Rose, right?” she asked.

  “Do you really have to ask that question?” Liam replied. Princess Briar Rose of Avondell, to whom he’d been betrothed since the age of three, was quite possibly the worst person he’d ever met (and Liam had met a lot of nasty people, including a witch who wanted to explode him in front of a live audience). But no one in Liam’s kingdom of Erinthia (except his little sister, Lila) seemed to care about his happiness—they only cared about Avondell’s vast network of gold mines, which Erinthia would have access to once Liam married Briar. Now, understand that the Erinthian people were plenty rich already—but they’d always been second best next to Avondell. And when you’re as greedy and petty as the average Erinthian, second place isn’t good enough. “I have no idea when I’ll ever be able to set foot in my homeland again. And I’m staying as far from Avondell as possible. I’m not going to let Briar’s family or mine force this wedding on me.”

  “Where would you go, then?” Ella asked. And she started doing what she did whenever she got anxious: She cleaned.

  “You know, they have servants to do that,” Liam said when he saw her scraping bird droppings off the railing.

  “Sorry, old habits die hard,” she said. She turned to look him in the eye. “Just stay here.”

  “Things have gotten a little awkward, don’t you think?” he asked sheepishly.

  “What do you mean?” Ella asked in return, though she knew all too well what he was referring to.

  Liam sighed. “What’s the situation here? I assume you and Frederic are still getting married.”

  Ella glanced down at the servants locking up the palace gates three stories below. “To be honest, he and I haven’t talked about it in ages. It’s kind of an odd question to casually toss at somebody over lunch: Hey, remember that time you proposed to me and I said yes? Are we still sticking to that? I don’t know—maybe I haven’t asked because I’m not sure what I want his answer to be.”

  “I understand,” Liam said. “You two are still engaged. Just like me and Briar.”

  “Oh, come now,” Ella said, narrowing her eyes at him. “It’s nothing like you and Briar. I love Frederic. He’s a dear friend and a wonderful human being.”

  “I know that,” Liam said quickly. “I love the guy, too. Which is why hurting him is the last thing I want to do.” Liam turned away from her and stared off at the stars that were beginning to dot the indigo sky. “My mind’s made up. I’m leaving in the morning.”

  “But . . . ,”
Ella started. There was so much she wanted to say to Liam—and so much she felt she couldn’t say. “But we had so many plans. We were going to drive the rat-owls out of West Thithelsford; we were going to track down the Gray Phantom in Flargstagg; we were going to break up the hobgoblin gangs in East Thithelsford. . . .”

  “Yes, you and I were,” Liam said. “Do you really think Frederic will ever be ready for dangerous work like that?”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll come back for the wedding.”

  Ella stepped back inside. She couldn’t let Liam walk away like this, but she knew he was too noble to put himself in the way of Frederic’s relationship with his father—or Frederic’s relationship with her. I’ll never convince him to stay on my own, she thought. He needs to hear it from Frederic.

  In his very grand bedroom, Frederic sat in a cushy chair by his vanity table, his head tilted back as Reginald, his lifelong personal valet, dabbed at the cut on his cheek with a gooey substance he referred to as tincture of thistle-thyme.

  “Do you really need to use that stuff?” Frederic asked. “It’s sticky. I’ve never handled stickiness well. I’m sure you remember the infamous cotton candy incident.”

  “The ointment will aid in the healing of your wound, milord,” the tall, thin servant said. “But I suspect this little scratch is not the greatest of your concerns right now.”

  Frederic looked his old friend in the eye. “Why is my father so cruel?” he asked. “I thought I’d proven myself to him. But he still treats me like a child. He still wants me penned in, to keep me afraid.”

  Reginald sat down on the edge of Frederic’s elaborate four-poster bed. “Why does that matter? You know what you’re capable of now. So do your friends. And Lady Ella.”

  Frederic shook his head. “I’m not so sure about Ella. I still don’t think she’s very impressed by me. How can she be when Liam . . .”

  “When Liam what?” Reginald asked.

  “Nothing,” Frederic said. He absentmindedly began fiddling with a cologne spritzer. “It’s just that Liam is trying to turn me into a true hero, so naturally my father can’t stand him. It’s only a matter of time until Liam gets banished. Father will stoop to anything to make sure I don’t mar his perfect royal image.”

  “The king is not all that bad,” Reginald said with sympathy in his voice.

  “You’re talking about the man who kept me in check as a child by hiring a circus tiger to terrify me.”

  “Point taken,” Reginald said. “But what I’m trying to say is that the king’s motives may not be as cruel hearted as you think. It’s about time you learned the truth about what happened to your mother.”

  “I already know. She died when I was an infant,” Frederic said. “A fatal dust allergy. It might be hereditary, which is why I wash my hands fifteen times a day.”

  “No, Frederic. That’s just the story your father gave the public,” Reginald said. “Adventure may not be welcome in these palace halls today, but that wasn’t always the case. Queen Anabeth regularly strapped a sword to her back and went running off in search of one lost treasure or another.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Frederic said, turning the idea over in his head. “My parents? Adventurers? At least that would explain how Father got all those medals.”

  “Ha!” Reginald couldn’t help but laugh. “Your father awarded all those medals to himself. They’re meaningless. Have you ever read what’s engraved on them? One is for hopscotch.

  “No, your mother was the only thrill seeker in the family. The king hated it. But even his objections couldn’t keep Queen Anabeth reined in. Shortly after you were born, she heard a legend about a solid gold duckling that was supposedly hidden away in an ancient ruined temple on the wastes of Dar. She wanted that priceless idol for you.”

  “I do like ducklings,” Frederic said in a bittersweet tone.

  “She took a small team of soldiers with her, trekked off to Dar, and never came back.”

  “Never came back? Does that mean it’s possible she’s still alive?” Frederic asked hopefully.

  “Sadly, no. One of her men limped back here weeks later, the only survivor. He explained how they’d accidentally set off a trap and the temple collapsed on top of the whole party. He only escaped because he was carrying your mother’s bags and lagging far behind. Your mother never packed light.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Frederic said. “It’s like something out of a Sir Bertram the Dainty story.”

  “It is nothing like a Sir Bertram story,” Reginald said. “Sir Bertram’s ‘adventures’ revolve around things like sorting socks and adding the proper amount of pepper to a casserole. Your mother lost her life! While treasure hunting. In booby-trapped ancient ruins. And I’m positive that her death has a lot to do with why your father is so overprotective. He doesn’t want to lose you the same way.”

  “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.”