The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom

“Listen,” said Liam. “Briar and I just aren’t right for each other.”

“But you love her!” the king shouted, his thick mustache fluttering as he spoke.

“No, I don’t,” Liam said plainly.

“You kissed her and broke the spell,” the queen insisted. “True love’s kiss!”

“I don’t think that’s how it worked,” Liam said with a sigh. “I think anybody’s kiss would have woken her. Besides, how could I love somebody I’d never met before?”

“Because that’s just the way things work!” the king thundered. “You are marrying Briar Rose. It has been written!”

“By you,” Liam said, beginning to get as angry as his parents. “You decided everything when I was three years old. Did anybody ask me who I wanted to marry?”

“You don’t get a choice,” Gertrude snapped.

“Look: Father, Mother,” Liam whispered. “Have you spent any time with her? She’s not a nice person.”

“Do you think I care about that?” Gareth growled. “Her family is rich beyond imagination!”

Liam was startled by his father’s greedy admission. He leaned over the balcony railing and yelled out, “Sorry, people. No wedding!”

Before he knew it, the crowd was booing as loudly as they’d been cheering only a minute earlier. Shouts of “Our hero!” were replaced by jeers of “Traitor!” Liam had never known the people of Erinthia to be unhappy with him. It was like having a tank full of beloved pet goldfish suddenly turn into angry piranhas. He was confused and a bit frightened.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” one woman cried.

“Some prince you are!” yelled one man.

“I wanted cheesecake!” wailed another.

Liam called down, “People, trust me. I am still the same hero you’ve always known, am I not?”

“No!” someone called out, and threw a shoe at the prince. Soon other objects—canes, rocks, sandwiches—started hurtling up toward the balcony.

“Unbelievable,” Liam muttered. “It’s a riot.”

A tomato smashed into King Gareth’s face, leaving a splatter of red pulp in his wiry mustache. Gertrude struggled to wipe the mess from her husband’s ample facial hair. “Don’t hit us!” she scolded the angry crowd. “We want him to get married!”

Gertrude caught a stale dinner roll that came flying at her, and hurled it back down into the mob.

“Quick, come inside!” It was Liam’s sister. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside the palace.

“Lila, do you know what’s going on?” he asked as the princess shut the ornate glass doors behind them. “I could always tell that our parents were excited about Avondell’s riches, but I still assumed . . .”

“Apparently the money is the only thing Mom and Dad care about,” she said. “I guess the same goes for all those people out there, too. I know they’ve been looking forward to a royal wedding for ages now, but . . . yikes.”

“I expected disappointment,” said Liam. “But for them to turn on me like this—”

“Look, as soon as things calm down, I’ll speak to everyone and try to smooth this out,” Lila said.

“Lila, please don’t take this the wrong way,” Liam said. “But you’re twelve.”

“I know,” Lila said slyly. “Which means I can hit my awkward phase at any moment. But right now, I’ve still got the ‘cute kid’ thing going for me. It’s great for winning people over. Believe me, it’s the only reason I still wear my hair in these annoying ringlets that Mom likes. Anyway, look, I’ll remind those people out there of all the amazing things you’ve done over the years. You’ve always been my hero. I’ll make sure you’re theirs again, too.”

Liam had never felt closer to his sister than in that moment.

“You might have a lot of work cut out for you,” Liam said. “And what about Mom and Dad? I really think they’re going to force me to marry Briar Rose against my will.”

“I’ll take care of them, too,” Lila said. “Don’t ask me how yet, because I’m not sure. I guess I’ve got to convince them that it would be worse to lose their son than to lose oodles and oodles of gold. It may take a while. In the meantime, you should take a vacation.”

“Vacation? Where?”

“Outside the kingdom. Everybody in Erinthia seems pretty steamed at you right now. So, go someplace where the people only know you from the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ story.”

“Ha! That story. No one outside of Erinthia even realizes I’m the hero in that story—it doesn’t mention my name!”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Lila said. “You can just be Prince Charming for a while. Everybody loves Prince Charming. Go bask in that glory for a while.”

“What glory? Prince Charming isn’t a hero,” Liam groused. “The only thing anybody thinks Prince Charming ever did is kiss a girl and wake her up. I deserve credit for a lot more than that.”

“Better to be loved for something lame than to be hated for no good reason, right?” Lila said.

Liam contemplated his sister’s advice. Lila was just a kid, but she was crafty. She’d gotten herself into—and out of—all sorts of scrapes in the past. And there was definitely a logic to her plan. Liam’s thought process was interrupted by a sudden bang as a roasted turkey crashed through the door, sending shards of glass and loose stuffing across the embroidered carpet.

“Someone out there has a very strong arm,” Liam said.

His sister pushed him toward a stairwell that led down to the palace cellars, and the two shared a quick embrace. “People will love you again, don’t worry,” she said. “Now, sneak out through the cook’s delivery entrance. I need to go rescue our greedy parents.”

She left Liam on the top step and rushed back toward the balcony.

“Thank you, sis,” Liam called. As he started down the stairs, he heard the princess yelling at the crowd of rioters outside: “All right, who threw the bird?”

Liam quietly sneaked through the cellars and into the royal stables. Since nearly everyone in the kingdom was out front by the balcony, there were no grooms or stable boys around to see him hop up onto his black stallion and take off through the palace yard’s back gates.

Liam headed toward the kingdom of Sylvaria. It was far enough away that the people there wouldn’t recognize him, and it was unpopular enough (thanks to its notably eccentric ruling family) that no one was likely to go there looking for him. Unfortunately, in order to get to Sylvaria, he had to pass through Avondell, where he was greeted with taunts, jeers, and an overripe cantaloupe that splattered open on the side of his head. He assumed Briar Rose was somehow responsible for everybody hating him. And he was right. You see, Sleeping Beauty was, as Liam put it, mean. She was accustomed to getting her way—even more so than most royal children. And for that, you can blame her upbringing.

Shortly after Briar Rose was born, her parents held a party and invited a bunch of fairies (at the time, people judged how successful a party was by the number of fairies that showed up). But the royal couple forgot to invite one very evil—and very easily insulted—fairy. As payback for being snubbed, that evil fairy threatened to put a curse on the baby. The fairy couldn’t curse Briar, however, if she couldn’t find her. So the king and queen kept their daughter hidden away in a magically protected safe house with a personal staff that catered to her every whim. To say that Briar was spoiled would be putting it mildly. In order to make sure the girl never wanted to leave the safe house, her servants did anything she wanted. Anything.

When Briar Rose said she wanted to ride an elephant, for instance, members of her staff trekked across mountainous miles of wilderness to seek one out. And when they failed to locate an elephant, one poor butler was forced to paint himself gray, overeat for a month, glue a long stocking to his nose, and let the girl climb on his back. Briar wasn’t stupid; she knew the man wasn’t an elephant. But the notion that she could make people do such humiliating things was far more entertaining to her than riding a real elephant would have been.

Since people generally tripped over themselves to please her, you can imagine Briar’s shock and consternation when Liam became the first person to ever say no to her. She was infuriated by her fiancé’s abrupt cancellation of their wedding and decided to get revenge by informing her people of how the “rude and ruthless” Prince Liam had heartlessly dumped her.

With Avondell’s bard—Reynaldo, Duke of Rhyme—missing in action for weeks, the kingdom’s minstrels were restless and eager for new material. So Briar Rose called them all together and gave them a juicy new story to spread. According to Briar’s version of events, Liam had stormed into her palace ranting like a lunatic about the horrible taste he’d had on his lips ever since he’d kissed her. He informed her that he could never live in Avondell, since all Avondellians smelled of old potatoes. Then he spit in her milk glass, tore her portrait off the wall, and stomped on her servants’ toes on his way out.

“That’s great stuff, Your Highness,” said one minstrel. “But not exactly a song. More like just a rant.”

“So don’t sing it, rant it,” Briar said. “The people want news; this is what you’re going to give them.”

And that’s just what happened. Once that story was out, the citizens of Avondell had no intention of giving Liam a chance to explain himself. Instead they just hurled insults—and food—as he rode by.

“You’d all still be asleep if it weren’t for me,” Liam griped as a handful of grapes bounced off his face.

“You’re despicable,” a woman yelled at him.

“Villain,” hissed another.

“If you people had any idea what your princess was really like . . . ,” Liam mumbled under his breath.

“You monster!” a disgruntled schoolteacher joined in. “Get out of our kingdom!”

“Believe me, I’m trying,” Liam said. He spurred his horse to move on faster but didn’t get past the mob quickly enough to avoid a hail of couscous that was flung in his direction. This was not going to blow over quickly, he realized. Liam had never felt more alone in his life. And to be completely honest, he was bummed about Briar Rose. It was an arranged marriage, so he’d never had any illusions that she would be the perfect girl for him. But he’d at least hoped he’d be able to tolerate her presence.

Liam had a bit of a romantic streak. He’d always envisioned himself sweeping some lovely maiden off her feet someday. But in his dreams, his future bride was someone, well, more like himself—a bold and breathtaking woman who would join him in his thrilling exploits. She was smart and resourceful, like that Rapunzel he’d heard about, or bold and daring, like Cinderella. She sure as heck wasn’t Briar Rose. But those fantasies appeared to be just as dead and gone as his days of being hero-worshipped. Liam didn’t know what to do with himself. So he trotted on, hoping to get as far from “his” people as he could.

Once he reached Sylvaria, he breathed a sigh of relief—not just because he was away from hecklers, but also because the place was just so darn cute. Raccoons and chipmunks scampered among the bright and lively greenery; vibrant wildflowers sprouted up everywhere; blue jays and mockingbirds twittered from the limbs of friendly looking oaks and elms. Sylvaria was the kind of place that made you feel comfy and safe. But looks can be deceiving.

Liam hadn’t gotten far into Sylvaria when he came across a trio of dwarfs cutting wood by the side of the road. They wore heavy beards and even heavier backpacks. They paid no attention to Liam as he rode up to them; they simply continued hacking at logs with their miniature hatchets.

Now, I’m going to assume you’ve never actually met any Sylvarian dwarfs. They’re not like other dwarfs. The dwarfs of Sylvaria are notoriously cranky. If you think about your own grouchiest moment—like, say, the angry reaction you have after stubbing your toe, shouting out in pain, and having somebody tell you, “Oh, be quiet; that didn’t hurt”—that’s how Sylvarian dwarfs behave when they’re happy.

They’re also quite persnickety. It doesn’t take much to get them riled up. For example, they insist on the spelling “dwarves” instead of “dwarfs.” If “wolf” becomes “wolves” and “half” becomes “halves,” they argue, why doesn’t “dwarf” become “dwarves”? The Sylvarian dwarfs once started a war with the Avondellian elves simply because the elves were bragging about the fact that they got to pluralize with a V.

Prince Liam had never met any Sylvarian dwarfs either, nor was he familiar with their reputation, which is why he decided to ask this trio for directions.

“Excuse me, sirs. Could you tell me if there’s an inn nearby?”

“Are you talking to us?” the first dwarf asked, barely glancing up at Liam from under his jaunty, ear-flapped cap.

“Yes,” said Liam. “I’m unfamiliar with the area, and I need to find a place to rest.”

“Oh, and I suppose you mistook us for a bunch of maps with legs,” said the first dwarf.

“Can’t you see we’re busy here?” barked the second.

“Yes,” said Liam. “I was just hoping you could tell me if there was an inn nearby.”

“There must be an echo around here,” said one of the dwarfs, and the three continued their woodwork.

“I repeated the question because I didn’t get an answer,” Liam snipped. He’d been in a rather foul mood to begin with, and dealing with these grouches only frustrated him further.

“You’ve got goop on your head,” the second dwarf said.

“It’s cantaloupe,” Liam replied.

“Thought so,” said the third dwarf. “I hate melon.”

“I’m not a fan myself,” Liam said. “Now, about that inn . . .”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the first dwarf sneered sarcastically, as he and the others stopped chopping. “I forgot that we’re all supposed to drop what we’re doing whenever a smug stranger comes up to us with a question. Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“For your information, I happen to be Prince—” Liam stopped himself. His anger with the dwarfs had peaked, and he was about to give them a royal shouting-down when he remembered his sister’s advice about keeping a low profile. If Briar Rose’s lies about him had spread into Sylvaria, the worst thing Liam could do was to tell these dwarfs his real name.

“Charming,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m Prince Charming.” It pained him to say those words.

The dwarfs looked at one another, then back to Liam. “No, you’re not,” they said in unison.

“Honestly, I am. Maybe you’ve heard the story. . . .”

“Oh, we know the story,” said the first dwarf. “And you’re not the guy from the story.”

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