The delighted children bounced around and pointed at Gustav. “Oh,” said the stranger. “You know the story?”
Rosilda chuckled. “He is the story. That’s Prince Charming, right there.”
The stranger’s eyes widened, and he sat upright. “Really? You’re joking. No? Oh, that’s wonderful. You don’t know how terrible this last week has been. I came all the way from Harmonia. I’ve been riding all over, not getting nearly enough sleep, stopping at every village and farm I could find. I’m practically starving—you wouldn’t believe the things that pass for scones in some of these places. I have had to sleep at inns where they obviously don’t change sheets between guests; I have washed my face in the same water that fish do things in. I’m sorry; I’m rambling. The point is: I’ve gone through all of this in hopes of finding someone who could point me in Rapunzel’s direction. And now I’ve run into you. You, of all people. And it’s even more amazing than you think, because I’m Prince Charming, too!”
Gustav narrowed his eyes. “You’re a crazy man.”
“No, I’m sorry, I’m just a little excited. You see, my name is Frederic. But I’m also a Prince Charming. I’m from the Cinderella story.” He flashed a broad smile and offered his hand to Gustav. Gustav didn’t take it; he had no idea what this lunatic was talking about, and he certainly didn’t trust him. The children, on the other hand, applauded wildly at the mention of Cinderella’s name. Frederic gave them a quick salute.
“Okay, let me start over,” Frederic said to Gustav. “I’m looking for my fiancée, Ella—that’s her real name. She left Harmonia about a week ago. All I know is that she was going to Sturmhagen to find Rapunzel. So, if you could be so kind as to lead me to Rapunzel . . .”
“Follow me,” Gustav said, and started his horse off into the field.
“Oh, fantastic. So how far away is she?”
“I’m not taking you to Rapunzel,” Gustav said. “I want to speak to you out of earshot of this rabble.” And with that, he was off.
“Oh,” said Frederic. “Um, good-bye, children!” He waved to the farmer and her family, and then accidentally walked his horse in a circle three times before getting the animal to follow Gustav down the road.
“Humph,” Rosilda grumbled. “And these are the guys everybody wants to marry? I don’t get it.”
The two men trotted along the meadow-lined dirt road in silence for a while, until Frederic finally spoke. “Soooo . . . You mentioned something back there about not taking me to Rapunzel.”
“That’s right,” said Gustav. “I’m not taking you to Rapunzel.”
“And why is that?”
Feeling they were far enough from the farm, Gustav brought his horse to a stop. “Look,” he said seriously, “are you really the prince from that other story?”
“Yes,” said Frederic as he struggled to line his horse up beside Gustav’s. “Are you really Rapunzel’s prince?”
Gustav huffed. “I’m not her prince, but yes, I am the one from that dumb song. I can’t take you to Rapunzel, because she ran off somewhere.”
“Oh.” Frederic looked crestfallen. “So we have something else in common.”
“I didn’t want that farmer woman and her little imps to hear that Rapunzel was gone,” Gustav said. He glared at Frederic. “And if you tell anyone, Fancy Man, you’ll regret it.”
“I won’t,” Frederic replied. “But if it’s such a big secret, I’m curious as to why you decided to tell me at all.”
Gustav honestly wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to confide in this ridiculous stranger. Maybe he figured that if there was anyone in the world who could possibly understand him, it would be another of the poor fools cursed to be Prince Charming. But could this guy really even be a prince? He looked like a deranged doorman. My brothers would eat this guy for lunch, Gustav thought. But then again, if my brothers would hate him, maybe he’s not so bad.
“What happened to your woman?” Gustav asked.
“Ella left because she thought I was boring,” Frederic said. “But you don’t look boring at all. So I’m guessing that wasn’t your problem.”
“Boring? Ha! No, it’s far worse than that. Rapunzel is off helping people,” Gustav spat. (He simply could not entertain the possibility that his behavior had something to do with Rapunzel’s departure.)
“I don’t understand,” Frederic said. “Helping people is bad?”
“You know the story, right?”
Frederic nodded.
“So you know about the bit with the briar patch?”
“Was it really her tears that restored your sight?” Frederic asked.
“Who knows?” Gustav mumbled. “But she’s convinced she saved me. And once that song started going around, it got worse. She was the brave heroine with magical tears. And what was I? I was the jerk who got beaten by an old lady and rescued by a girl. Anyway, she believes she can heal people, so she went off to spread goodness around the world or some nonsense like that. And I’m left here with a reputation to fix. . . .”
“I’m really sorry to hear—”
“Hold your words,” Gustav cut him off. It suddenly hit him that this bizarre man in the silly suit might be offering exactly what he needed—the opportunity for a heroic deed. “This Cinderella person you’re looking for—she’s in some kind of danger? She needs help?”
“Well, not that I know of,” Frederic replied.
“She’s in danger,” Gustav stated matter-of-factly. He saw Frederic flinch at the word “danger”; it should be easy enough to convince him that his girlfriend needed rescuing.
“Sturmhagen is no place for amateur adventurers,” he went on. “There are monsters at every turn.”
“Tigers?” Frederic asked in a barely audible whisper.
“Sure, why not? We’ve got everything else,” Gustav answered. “You know, I saved that farm family from a troll right before you showed up.”
“Are you serious?” Frederic asked, biting his thumbnail.
“Deadly serious,” Gustav said. “Was the girl armed?”
Frederic shook his head.
Gustav tried to stifle his excitement.
“I never step foot outside without my ax,” he said, motioning to the huge weapon that was now strapped to his back. Frederic got a glimpse of the big blade—still dripping with red—and nearly fell off his horse.
“No one’s safe in these woods without a weapon,” Gustav said. “What was she wearing?”
“A blue dress, I think.”
“A dress?” Gustav scoffed. “Look at me. This is how you prepare for Sturmhagen.” Gleaming armor plates covered his shoulders. Strapped to his upper arms, wrists, and legs were more metal guards, all lined with heavy fur trim. His torso was draped with a fur-lined tunic. Underneath that, more armor. And his tall iron boots looked strong enough to kick their way through a solid wall.
“I don’t even think I could walk in all that,” Frederic said.
“If that girl’s been out here by herself for a week already, we’d better move fast. Her life is probably being threatened as we speak.”
“Oh, my,” Frederic said. “Well, um, will you, um, will you—”