“Thanks,” Ella replied, deftly blocking his strike. Swords clanged as she and Liam traded blows. But Liam was faster; he started to back Ella down the corridor.
“Watch that lamp!” Frederic yelled. “My great-grandmother made that! Well, bought it. Had a servant buy it, actually. . . .” His voice trailed off.
Ella was up against the wall. But as Liam swung his sword, she dove under it, sliding across the polished marble floor on her knees and hopping back onto her feet several yards away.
“Nice move,” Liam said with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t think I could get that much distance from a single slide.”
“Thank the pants,” Ella said, gesturing toward her billowy satin trousers. “I made them myself.” She cartwheeled toward Liam, her braid of brown hair whipping through the air. Liam leapt up and grabbed onto a chandelier to swing over Ella and avoid her assault.
“That’s real crystal!” Frederic yelled.
Liam dropped down behind Ella. “Boo,” he said.
Ella kicked her leg backward into his gut and sent him stumbling against the opposite wall.
“Careful with that tapestry,” Frederic called out. “It depicts my great-grandmother’s servant buying the lamp.”
“Sorry,” Ella said to Liam. “Did I hurt you?”
“Ha,” Liam said with a wincing smile. “Good reflexes, though. You’ve come a long way.”
Ella straightened the tapestry, plucked a piece of lint from it, and then charged at Liam with a quick barrage of blows—all of which he parried with ease. “A long way, perhaps” he said. “But not all the way.”
As Ella’s energy began to flag, Liam decided it was time for a little showboating. He performed an agile spinning maneuver, his cape flowing out behind him. Ella grabbed his cape as it fluttered past her and yanked him off balance. He fell to his knees, and Ella, grinning, touched the tip of her sword to his chest.
“Looks like I finally beat you,” she said.
“No fair,” Frederic interjected. “Didn’t we just establish that he’s not Prince Liam right now? He’s playing a bad guy. You can’t use his cape against him.”
“A villain can wear a cape,” Ella said.
“Of course,” Liam added. “Plenty of them do.”
“Who? Nobody we’ve ever faced,” Frederic said. “Are you also going to tell me that villains regularly compliment you the entire time they’re trying to kill you? And that they show off with fancy pirouettes in the middle of battle? You cannot honestly say you were taking that fight seriously just now, Liam. I don’t think you’re judging me and Ella equally.”
Ella walked over to Frederic and put her muscular arm around his bony shoulders. “Come on, Frederic,” she said playfully. “Don’t be jealous.”
“Jeal— um, what? Jealous?” Frederic stuttered. “Why would you say that? Jealous of whom?” For months now, Frederic had been trying to ignore the fact that Liam and Ella seemed like an ideal match for each other. They shared all the same interests (monsters, swords, monsters with swords). They shared all the same hobbies (rescuing people, climbing things, doing spontaneous push-ups). They had the same bold and daring spirit. But Ella was supposed to be Frederic’s fiancée. She was the Cinderella made beloved by the bards’ songs and stories, and Frederic was the Prince Charming who had swept her off her feet at that famous ball. But he was also the man whose life was so dull that Ella had left him in search of some real action.
It had been Frederic’s quest to reunite with Ella that brought the League of Princes together in the first place. He’d wanted to impress Ella with his heroics—and he succeeded. But on that adventure he also introduced her to his good friend Liam. And now both she and Liam lived in the Harmonian royal palace with him, neither of them sharing Frederic’s interests (artists, crumpets, artists who paint crumpets) or Frederic’s hobbies (fancy spoons, poetry, spontaneous embroidery). Still, Frederic wanted Ella to notice him. Of all the women he’d ever met—and there had been dozens lining up to dance with him at the royal ball every year—none but Ella had ever made a real impression. No woman he’d met anywhere had. Well, actually, there was one other . . . but Frederic didn’t know if he’d ever see her again.
“I’m just saying you don’t need to be jealous of my sword-fighting skills,” Ella explained. “I’ve taken to it quickly. But you’ll get better, too. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m not so sure,” Frederic said. “Look, I may never become a good duelist. But that’s okay. I’ve been telling you two for months: I’m not a sword guy. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be useful. Wit is my weapon. Words are my ammunition. You yourself helped me to realize that, Liam.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Liam said. “No one is better than you at talking his way out of a fight. But if an enemy doesn’t provide you with the opportunity for chitchat, you need to be able to defend yourself.”
“That’s when you let your steel do the talking,” Ella said through clenched teeth.
Both Frederic and Liam gaped at her.
“And to think I was worried when she went out into the woods alone,” Frederic said.
Liam gave Frederic a pat on the arm. “Come on, let’s give it another try,” he said. “Look, we’ve been living like hermits here for almost a year. I’m sure that ‘Embarrassment of the League’ song is a distant memory for most people.”
“Cook was singing it at breakfast this morning,” Frederic said.
“I said most people,” Liam said. “My point is that it’s about time we went out there and started redeeming ourselves. And if you’re going to come adventuring with me again, I need to know you can handle yourself in a fight. Swords up.”
Liam took a fencing stance and waited for Frederic to do the same.
“We should at least go back to the training room,” Frederic said. “I think this hallway has probably seen enough action for one day.” (This was, without doubt, the most excitement ever experienced in that particular corridor. Previously, the most suspenseful thing to have happened there was when two footmen hunted down a lost cuff link. It took them forty-seven seconds to find it.)
“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