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LAUREL DECHER

“Life in the Seven Kingdoms is never dull . . .” –Jen McConnel, School Library Journal

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A collection of Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales!

book cover showing first 3 books in A Seven KIngdoms Fairy Tale series

The first collection of Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales all in one place!

"Life in the Seven Kingdoms is never dull . . . "

--Jen McConnel, School Library Journal

Three full-length books in one!‹
Follow the hilarious adventures of a princess who defends her castle and wins a name for herself, a perpetually lost prince who learns how to lead, and a team of royal twins who face test after test to protect their beloved dragon. ‹
1. Trouble With Parsnips, A Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tale, 1; ‹
2. Lost With Leeks, A Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tale, 2; and ‹
3. Under Pressure With a Squash: The Multiplication Problem, A Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tale, 3 ‹
Now in a single volume.
__________________
For ages 9 to 12. Read in any order.
Perfect for fans of funny, fast-paced fairy tales like Jean Ferris’ Once Upon a Marigold or E.G. Foley’s The Gryphon Chronicles.
Also for friends of entertaining adventure stories. . .with a side of handy life skills. (Jacqueline Davies’ The Lemonade Wars or Shannon Hale’s Princess Academy.)

What's the same?

Smart kids on a mission in the fun & magical world of the Seven Kingdoms!

  • Paperback
  • Hardcover
  •  ebook/Kindle
tablet phone hardcover editions of Trouble With Parsnips
A nameless princess makes a name for herself when she learns to speak up in time!
Read a sample
cover images in all formats for Lost With Leeks
A prince who's always lost gets everyone--even magical creatures--safely home!
Read a sample
print mobile tablet editions of SQUASH
The Saffron twins have their hands full with all these baby dragons! Can a fairy-ranger-in-training and a mapmaker who hates multiplication find a safe haven in time?
Read a sample

What's different?

It’s the lie-down-on-the-carpet-and-read edition!

  • 752 pages
  • Royal Octave size 🙂  of 6.14 x 9.21 inches. 
  • Royal Octave is ever-so-slightly taller and wider than the single story books (6 x 9 inches).
  • Print edition is more compact for taking along, but still comfortable to read. (About the same as the original hardcover Harry Potter books.)
  • Updated illustrations
  • Get MORE story for less. Save, no matter which edition you choose.
  • It’s a nice, BIG present
 
Read all afternoon? all day? all week? It’s up to you. The kids finished already? There’s more.
paperback 3D Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales: Books 1-3
Sturdy paperback edition
Tablet, phone, hardcover 3D Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales: Books 1-3
eBook and Case Laminate also available

A Side-By-Side Comparison

Trouble With Parsnips: Single Title

Trouble With Parsnips in Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales: Books 1-3

first two pages of Trouble With Parsnips print edition
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Trouble With Parsnips in Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales: Books 1-3

Look inside view for Trouble With Parsnips in Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales Collection

Listen (5 Minute Sample):

Come join the party for Fifteenth! Read by the author.

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Trouble With Parsnips

Trouble With Parsnips in all book formats


Copyright © 2018 Laurel Decher

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

ISBN 978-3-9820075-0-2 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN 978-3-9820075-1-9 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN 978-3-9820075-2-6 (ebook Edition)

ISBN 979-8-3314084-1-1 (Barnes & Noble Paperback Edition)

Library of Congress Control Number:  2018907982

CONTENTS

  1. A Delayed Party 1

  2. Too Late for Parsnips 16

  3. The Fairy Godmother Takes Her Time 31

  4. Out of the Dishwater and Into the Storm 46

  5. A Rocky Situation 60

  6. A Princely Rescue 72

  7. Charming Complications 85

  8. Speaking Clearly with Tact Is an Art 97

  9. The Rook Egg 112

  10. Brooding in the Dungeon 128

  11. The Peppermint Tea House 145

  12. Early for a Change 160

  13. Dungeon Hospitality 171

  14. The Second-Best Croquet Mallets 183

  15. Speech or Die 192

  16. The Queen’s Wager 205

  17. The Entry Basket 224

  18. A Library Crisis 234

  19. The InterKingdom Tournament 250

  20. The Pepper Pot Duel 260

  21. Making a Name 272

  22. Epilogue 288

CHAPTER ONE

A Delayed Party

INSIDE COCHEM CASTLE, the nameless princess ducked underneath the head table to her self-appointed station. Her place of honor at the table was too far away. She’d waited ten years for this party and couldn’t risk it going off the rails. Sitting on the rushes, with King Oliver’s feet on one side and Queen Sibyl’s on the other, the princess could hear everything.

Above her head, the shiny Golden Parsnip—the badge of his kingly power—hung from her father’s belt.

The princess patted the hidden pocket of her gown. The drawing of her secret weapon, the Cloud of Defense, crinkled reassuringly. Along the back wall, the Cochem archers stood ready for King Oliver’s command.

King Oliver “whispered” in Queen Sibyl’s ear, and the princess smiled. Neither of her parents was any good at whispering. She made out the words with no trouble. King Oliver had to shout to be heard over the courtiers and guests.

“You’re sure about which one needs a name?” King Oliver’s best dancing shoes pivoted towards Queen Sibyl.

Wary of getting pinched, the princess kept an eye on the King’s shoes and reminded herself that parents forgot things. Especially parents with fifteen children and a kingdom to govern. It wasn’t personal. Besides, people without names were hard to remember.

Queen Sibyl stamped her small foot, and her silk skirts rustled. “Yes, of course. She’s the one that put all those goldfish in the moat.”

Mamma had noticed! Training five hundred brilliant-orange goldfish to spell out “NAME ME” had been worth it.

Confident that her parents were on board, the princess slipped under the dessert sluice to check a leaking seam. Keeping things dry was a full-time job with an artificial creek running through the hall. She didn’t mind. As soon as she’d seen a diagram for a gold-panning sluice in a library book, she’d wanted to build one. Gold wasn’t a big deal in Cochem, so they used it for dessert instead.

No one would notice if the guest of honor slipped away for a moment. Her parents had enough to do. The Kingdom’s business took most of their attention, and educating the older Cochem children—the ones who might actually rule one day—took the rest. No one kept track of the youngest child in the family. A long time ago, the princess had decided to make the most of it. Sometimes, it made up for being called “Fifteenth.”

“—a moment ago.”

Even with the Seven Kingdoms partying it up, the end of Queen Sibyl’s sentence carried down to the princess, whose head was now under the other end of the dessert sluice.

“She knows how to take care of herself,” King Oliver’s voice rumbled on. “Handy around the castle too.”

The princess, fishing a wrench out of her hall toolbox, wondered who they were talking about. King Oliver’s sister, Queen Ash? “Handy” didn’t seem right, but the Blackfly Queen definitely took care of herself. The princess frowned. Her favorite wrench for this job was in her workshop in Cochem’s unused dungeon. She’d have to make do with this one.

“I thought the boy with the hair did the goldfish thing.” King Oliver always made a swishing motion over his head to show the boy’s pompadour hairstyle. “You know, Harold number three. But wait—goldfish are quite slippery for a baby, aren’t they? Did the others do such things before they were christened?”

The princess didn’t interrupt. She wanted to know what else they knew about her. Listening was always more useful than talking.

The king and queen tried to sort out their offspring. They got muddled after the seventh and came to a complete stop at number fourteen.

“Let’s start again. We’ve got seven girls,” King Oliver said.

Eight, thought the princess, but she tightened a bolt on the dessert sluice and gave her parents a moment more.

“And seven Harolds,” Queen Sibyl said. “So she must be the fourteenth. But that doesn’t seem right. Oh, how silly! The girl without a name is why we’re here. So what number child does that make her?”

Speaking into the pipe, the nameless princess prompted, “The Fifteenth Child of our house.”

King Oliver said, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything—” Queen Sibyl dropped her voice to a confidential tone, no quieter than King Oliver’s “—you see, the problem is, we forgot about christening this one. Things kept coming up, and now she’s ten.”

“Is that so?” King Oliver got to his feet, and the thump he gave the table made it tremble. He’d never called the hall to order for her before. The nameless princess smiled down at her christening gown. Queen Sibyl knew she was ten years old. This was going better than she’d hoped.

A tiny piece of paper on the rushes caught the princess’s attention. She picked it up and read, “Twyla.”

The other side was blank. She didn’t know anyone called Twyla, but she pocketed the paper for her name collection. Writing “Fifteenth” at the top of school papers got old in a hurry.

“Rose, Marigold, Magenta, Saffron, Indigo . . .” King Oliver ran through the kingdoms present in the hall and sat down again. “The Blackflies aren’t here.” He exhaled in a way that made the princess worry he was finished. “Having the feast before the christening is a good idea. It should give them, maybe five extra hours. That should be enough, even for them, don’t you think?”

At Sibyl number seven’s christening, the Blackfly Kingdom was seven hours late. When the nameless princess heard that story, she adjusted the schedule for her own. She had a lot of practice adjusting things. Taking a better grip on her wrench, she tightened the next bolt.

“If we wait too long, the other guests will leave, and we still won’t have a christening.” Queen Sibyl coughed. “If Cook would at least send up the peppermint tea. My throat is a little dry. And you sound like you might be getting a cold. Are you feeling well enough for a bit of croquet after dinner?”

Croquet? The nameless princess froze, wrench in mid-air. It couldn’t be croquet fever. This year, the whole family had gotten their shots.

“Now there’s an idea.” King Oliver’s heel bounced on the rushes covering the hall’s stone floor. “I’m always well enough for that. We could try the vineyard behind the castle. If the archers stand at the bottom of the rows, they can bowl the balls back up again. While I’m thinking about it, we’re still missing black mallets and croquet balls. We have all the other kingdoms’ colors.”

Not today. The nameless princess set down her wrench and whipped through the crowd towards her royal parents. This couldn’t happen. If the royal guests started knocking balls through wickets, they’d be scattered throughout the Seven Kingdoms before you knew it. It would be the end of the christening.

Her royal parents were losing focus. The princess dove back under the head table to keep tabs on things.

King Oliver called the steward over and ordered some mallets and balls painted black.

“Good idea! The Blackfly family got so annoyed last time when we didn’t have their color.” The hem of Queen Sibyl’s dress went up and down in agreement. She was a vigorous nodder. The feather on top of her dozen-eggs hairstyle must be making a breeze. “Queen Ash is always so quick to feel slighted.”

“It’s their plague-y blackflies, you know. She can’t stand’em.” King Oliver always made excuses for his sister. “I mean—what if blackflies followed you everywhere you went?”

Queen Sibyl shuddered all the way down to her silvery hem. “Dreadful. I’d much rather talk about croquet. How about a quick game with the appetizers?”

Oh no. If only the Blackfly family would show up, blackflies and all. A royal christening couldn’t start until all Seven Kingdoms had arrived.

The princess had to do something. But what?

At that moment, the headwaiter brought the banquet menu for final approval. Queen Sibyl wasn’t wearing her glasses for the party, so King Oliver had to put on his reading glasses. Once they were on his nose, he winced. “With these darn things, I can’t see past the end of my 
 croquet mallet.”

Considering one desperate plan after another, the princess made her way down the head table to the door. As she passed Harold number one, he bumped her fist with his. “Don’t forget—if you run into your fairy godmother, be cool.”

Sibyl number one called from the middle of the table, “Whatever you do, don’t tell her what to give you.”

“Yeah, just look at Queen Ash,” Harold number three said in the princess’s ear. “We don’t need blackflies in Cochem.”

“No matter what else you have to do, don’t walk away.” Sibyl number six had been caught by her fairy godmother on the way to the royal privy and knew what she was talking about.

Fourteen siblings meant you knew what to expect. The princess was glad she wasn’t an only child, like the Blackfly Prince.

Reaching the hall door, she went out to the stables. The party could start if people thought the Blackfly Kingdom had arrived. She couldn’t pretend to be Queen Ash or King Schwartz, so she’d have to pretend to be Prince Nero. He was about her age. She’d put on black clothes, and no one would know the difference. By now, the guests were too hungry to ask questions.

Once all Seven Kingdoms were present—or appeared to be present—food would be served, and everyone would be happy. The princess couldn’t risk an impromptu croquet tournament. Even if this wasn’t the fever.

She wasn’t much bigger than Harold number seven, the brother closest in age to the princess. No Blackfly horses had arrived in the stables, so the princess tucked up her brocade skirt, put on an old pair of Harold number seven’s black riding pants, and blacked her white Icelandic pony, NĂșmi, with a pot of shoe-polish.

Wrapping herself in black saddle blankets, she tied a black knitted scarf over her light brown hair. She tiptoed barefoot up the spiral stairs to the gallery over the hall, to see if she really had to go through with this.

The silver Cochem banners on the walls gleamed in the torchlight. At her family’s table on the dais, the princess’s fourteen siblings played table hockey with the salt cellar. King Oliver had pushed his chair back as if the feast were over. His reading glasses still rested on his nose. Queen Sibyl swept up salt from the silver-linen tablecloth with her tiny, silver-handled brush and dustpan.

On the main floor of the hall, the seven remaining tables were arranged around the hearth fire like the slanted spokes of a wheel. The christening guests wore the showy colors of their kingdoms so that the hall looked like a silver-striped lollipop. Raspberry-scented Roses, perfumed Daffodils, spicy Marigolds, fluffy Fuchsia, Siberian Iris, and rare black Tulips made a gorgeous, fragrant pinwheel.

Only the dimly lit black Tulips table had no guests. The Blackfly royal family still hadn’t arrived. The princess straightened. If she wanted a name, it was time for action.

On the way down to the hall and the door out to the stables, she tried a new name aloud at each step:

names that main character considers while walking down the stairs

Anything but Sibyl.

All seven of her sisters were named Sibyl. She’d never stand out in that crowd.

A few moments later, she whispered to the royal steward at the door so he’d announce her properly. A Blackfly banner would have helped. Then she mounted NĂșmi, rode through the open portcullis into the feasting hall, and made her pony paw his hooves in the air.

To the assembled crowd, the royal steward roared, “Prince Nero of the Blackfly Kingdom pays his respects to the youngest princess of Cochem.”

The Marigold Kingdom guests clapped their hands onto their ears and shook their heads, frowning. They were jumpy about loud voices.

“Good boy,” the princess added under her breath to NĂșmi. That book about the Spanish Riding School had been worth it. She dismounted, tossed the reins to a waiting stableboy, and accepted a swig of peppermint tea.

The guests from the Magenta Kingdom murmured to each other. “Finally. Now we can eat.”

The Saffron Kingdom crown princess looked up from the saffron booties she was knitting. “Funny. Not as many blackflies as usual. Did they drain their swamp?”

Worrying about the lack of a Blackfly banner, the princess had forgotten about the blackflies. She flashed a disdainful look at the Saffron Kingdom table—as if she really were a Blackfly royal—and held her breath.

At the head table, her parents rose.

“They sent him all alone,” murmured Queen Sibyl, squinting. “How did he ever find us? I heard he has a terrible sense of direction, poor thing.”

“Welcome, Prince Nero!” King Oliver smoothed his thick mustache and beard in a considering way. He took off his reading glasses, and his eyes rested her face.

Uh, oh. She’d been sure he would forget about his reading glasses. He’d recognize her, and the christening would come to an unpleasant end.

But King Oliver unbuckled the Golden Parsnip, held it up high, and called out, “The Seven Kingdoms are here! Let the festivities begin!”

Suddenly dizzy, the princess gripped the nearest table edge. He hadn’t recognized her. Why did she feel so hollow?

She should be happy. He wasn’t supposed to tell the difference between the Blackfly prince and his own daughter. It would have ruined everything. She put up a proud chin, forced a brittle smile and strode off towards the black Tulips.

Queen Sibyl announced the program for the day. “We hope you’ll enjoy the feast. There are seventeen courses, one for each member of the royal family.” The hall exploded into applause, and the queen smiled shyly. She was the only other one in the family who didn’t care for speeches. “Afterwards, there will be the christening—”

The princess was relieved to hear it.

“Then we’ll have jousting, footraces, and that game with the spinning tops. I can never remember what it’s called—” she looked at King Oliver.

His whisper carried throughout the hall, “Carom, it’s called carom.”

“Thank you, dear. You all know what it’s called, so there’s only one more thing to say.” Queen Sibyl spread out her arms. “Let the feast begin!”

The squeak of door hinges made everyone laugh. King Oliver never oiled the hinges for the doors that led to the royal kitchens. He said he wanted to prevent sneak attacks by his fifteen children, but the princess knew better. The sound was an appetizer for the feast.

Squeak, squeak. Squeak, squeak.

A long line of kitchen staff bore trays and trays of marvelous-smelling parsnip fries into the hall. The princess took advantage of the moment to slip under the black Tulips table. Sheltered by the table linen, she unwound herself from the black saddle blankets, wriggled out of Harold number seven’s old riding pants, and took the black knitted scarf off her head. Her brocade skirt was a little crushed, but she was going to get a name.

The princess went the long way around and took her place at the bottom of the head table. She crunched a parsnip fry between her teeth and grinned at her seven sisters, dressed in matching brocade gowns, all talking at top speed.

The four oldest were comparing the fine points of all the Seven Kingdoms’ princes and the three youngest the fine points of desserts to come. Nobody had missed her.

Her favorite course was the first. The parsnips were the perfect reddish-brownish-goldish color and tasted a little sweet and a little salty.

She couldn’t enjoy the other courses properly. Now that she’d gotten away with impersonating the Blackfly prince, she was having second thoughts. What would happen when the real Blackfly prince arrived?

Even though she knew the kitchen doors were the only squeaky ones, she checked the hall entrance every time.

The Blackfly family didn’t show up for the field lettuce salad with toasted walnuts, the crispy potato pancakes with applesauce, the green asparagus with toasted pine nuts and a sprinkling of salt, the fresh spinach salad with strawberries, the buttermilk soup with snippets of chives, or the artichokes you ate by dipping each tiny leaf in lemony-garlic sauce and nibbling off the tender inner edge.

They missed the crispy fried fish, the radish roses in all colors, the potato croquettes with ketchup, the tiny cooking pans for melting Swiss cheese, the cauliflower “trees” with hot, buttered breadcrumbs, the thinly sliced lean roast pork with dumplings and gravy, the baby peas in the pod with tureens to cook them, and the fruit platters glowing with rubies that were really pomegranate seeds.

They didn’t even show up for the tiny cheese wheels covered in red wax.

The feast’s sparkling finale was the princess’s second favorite course. Water wheels and jets propelled miniature boats along sluices all around the hall. Each boat carried one serving of dessert. No one ever remembered she’d made the dessert sluice, but everyone enjoyed it.

When a guest pointed to a cake, pie, torte, or tart they liked, a footman fished out the little boat, blotted off the bottom, and gave it to the guest with a bow. The princess, and her fourteen brothers and sisters, preferred helping themselves.

She had just plucked a kayak with a chocolate cream puff out of the gurgling stream when King Oliver said, “Prince Nero’s not old enough to sign the christening certificate, is he?”

“He was born about the same time as Harold number seven.” Queen Sibyl counted on her fingers. “That makes him eleven, so no, he’s not. Do you think Ash isn’t coming then?”

The princess froze. She knew all Seven Kingdoms had to be present for the christening, but she hadn’t realized they had to sign off. The kayak dropped from her hand back into the sluice, making waves that shipwrecked a dozen cakes. Her fourteen royal brothers and sisters protested, but she paid no attention.

Her boat floated down the sluice, out of reach.

CRAAACK!

The princess spun around. The front doors of the banquet hall banged open, revealing the portcullis, smashed in two. Oops. She should have told the stableboy to leave it open. A cloud of blackflies blew in.

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Lost With Leeks

cover images in all formats for Lost With Leeks

Copyright © 2019 Laurel Decher

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

CONTENTS

  1. The Blackfly Reputation 1

  2. The Fairy Godfather 11

  3. Lost in Your Backyard 17

  4. Under the Ruins 25

  5. In the Saffron Castle 31

  6. A Geography Lesson 39

  7. To the Dungeon 54

  8. The Queen’s Command 64

  9. It’s Checked Out 72

  10. The Breakfast Buffet 80

  11. The Rally Begins! 89

  12. How to Corral a Crew 98

  13. Magical Migration 107

  14. How Leadership Works 117

  15. Hide and Seek 127

  16. Crew’s Control 136

  17. The K-L-I-C System 142

  18. Suspicious Activity 149

  19. The Circus of Vegetables 157

  20. The Sad Clown 164

  21. The Blackfly BookDrop 170

  22. St. Nicholas’s Rescue 178

  23. Terror of the Seven Kingdoms 186

  24. Bad Press 193

  25. The Loreley 198

  26. The Lost Prince 205

  27. A Remote Rescue 211

  28. Stranded in Strasbourg 221

  29. Geography by Nero 228

  30. Lichen Shortage 239

  31. The Home Stretch 243

  32. Now Boarding 249

  33. St. Nicholas’s Day 262

  34. The Order of the Octopus 274

CHAPTER ONE

The Blackfly Reputation

BLACKFLY PRINCE NERO spent the best summer of his twelve-year-old life in the dungeon. He was building a cable ferry with his new friend Twyla, the youngest princess in the Cochem royal family. The dungeon was her workshop.

It was a blast.

Princess Twyla had the best tools of anyone in the Seven Kingdoms, knew how to build with them, and didn’t mind sharing. The only thing she wasn’t good at was giving speeches.

That was fine with Nero.

Until he’d spent the summer with Twyla’s family, speeches were about the only thing he could do. In a speech competition, you had to find the right facts, fast.

He’d even started a stack of index cards with the names of Twyla’s tools and what each was for. That stack joined all the others in Nero’s fat, leather, briefcase. The briefcase was called an Ox because it could carry such a heavy load.

He was putting the finishing touches on a card stack about cable ferries—how to calculate the width of the ferry crossing, the speed of the river, the number of people who could cross at one time, and other fun ferry facts—when an emergency message came from his father, the Blackfly King.

#

TO: Nero, Crown Prince of the Blackfly Kingdom

FROM: King Schwartz, King of Blackfly Kingdom, etc. etc.

Nero,

Something must be done about the Blackfly debt. I’m going to the Parlez Vous Patisserie in Paris. When I get back, we will have something to sell that will delight customers. You know how much we need that. Until then, you are in charge of damage control. Do not fail me.

With affection,

Your Royal Papa.

P.S. Check the Proclamation Board in Cochem before you go home.

P.P.S. Try to keep XXX out of France. If I get kicked out of my pastry school, we’ll never manage this debt!

#

Cochem’s Proclamation Board was outside, near the castle gate. After stuffing a few index cards in his shirt pocket, Nero went up the dungeon stairs. He studied his papa’s message as he went.

“Damage control” was a duty he had done before. It meant keeping Queen Ash out of trouble, if possible, and smoothing it over afterwards, if it wasn’t. That’s what his fairy gift was for. It was a pity his magical charm didn’t seem to work on the queen.

King Schwartz must have realized Queen Ash wasn’t going to be able to pay the huge amount she owed without help. The queen’s latest fundraiser, Blackfly Quality Gingerbread, had only sold a few boxes after they’d re-labelled it as charcoal. The Parlez Vous Patisserie was his papa’s favorite pastry-making school in France. The king must be planning a fancy new dessert to sell.

Unlike Queen Ash, King Schwartz was an excellent baker, but it was almost the middle of November. Whenever the king got back, it would be too late to get a booth at the Christmas Market. That was the biggest market of the year. The other, smaller, markets wouldn’t make a dent in the queen’s debt.

“XXX” must mean Queen Ash. Nero didn’t think it would be hard to keep her out of France. But then he never knew until he’d tried.

When Nero saw the latest post, he gave a low whistle.

PROCLAMATION

November Issue: Nicholas Napping?

Ace Reporter, Bridget of the Cochem Dungeon, reports a serious situation in the Blackfly Kingdom.

St. Nicholas’ Day is approaching fast, but the children of the Seven Kingdoms may be disappointed. St. Nicholas may have disappeared. No matter how clean the children’s boots are when they put them out, they may find no presents in them on December 6th.

A troupe of flying reindeer disappeared near the Blackfly Kingdom last Thursday night.

Messages to the North Pole and to the Blackfly Kingdom have not been answered. The search for St. Nicholas continues.

Readers sighting St. Nicholas or flying reindeer are asked to contact the Proclamation immediately.

Queen Ash in the Proclamation. Messages to the Blackfly Kingdom have gone unanswered. Has the Blackfly Queen forgotten what she owes the Seven Kingdoms?

Nero copied the details onto index cards, ran back down the dungeon stairs. If he was leaving in disgrace, he’d rather get it over with. Twyla couldn’t have seen the Proclamation yet, but he didn’t want to be there when she did. Too embarrassing.

He stuck his head in the door of her workshop. “I have to get home right away.”

“So soon?” Twyla came over from her workbench, holding out the wrench she always used. “Here. Take it.”

Nero looked around, but there was no bolt up high that Twyla might want him to tighten. He looked back at her.

Her face turned pink, but she was still holding the wrench out towards him. “I want you to have it.”

“You want ME to have your best wrench?” Nero was touched. It was her favorite.

“It’s okay. Take it. You don’t have one—do you?” Twyla held it out again. He couldn’t make himself tell her why she would regret this.

“Thanks.” He put it in his Ox, wondering if he’d ever get a summer like this again.

A wrench was no match for the Blackfly troubles. No matter how much he felt like bolting Queen Ash into her castle until King Schwartz came back from France.

#
Three days later, Nero pounded on the bolted front door of the Blackfly Castle. Queen Ash didn’t need a doorbell because most visitors were involuntary. After a few moments, an archer opened the door and Nero and his archers went in.

“Found your way back,” the archer attending the door said to the other two.

Nero ignored them. It wasn’t a new joke.

“We’re B-A-A-CK!” They all gave each other high-fives and laughed as if they had braved a dragon in every kingdom or something.

Nero couldn’t help having no sense of direction. Or that the archers found it endlessly funny. Princess Twyla was right—fairy gifts were a pain!

The inside of Blackfly Castle was like a layer cake with a hole in the middle. The central tower filled up part of the hole. Open galleries on each floor made the castle look like an opera house.

Normally, the middle courtyard was quiet and deserted because the cozy rooms were up by the bread oven. Today, the courtyard was full of reindeer.

A fine net had been spread over the courtyard so they couldn’t fly away. Nero’s face burned. Any doubts about the Proclamation’s lead story were gone now. His heart sank. Of all the things Queen Ash had done, this one was the worse.

Nero walked up to the reindeer grazing near the edge and reached out to touch a velvet nose.

The reindeer plunged away from him and the whole group stampeded to the other side of the courtyard. They twisted their necks and looked at him, wide-eyed. He held up his hands to show that he meant no harm, but they didn’t budge. The biggest one closed its eyes and lowered its head, giving a moan that sounded like pain.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m going already.” Nero jogged up the steps to the level where Queen Ash had her office. Her windows overlooked the Rhine River. She liked to keep an eye on things, indoors and out.

The circular castle confused most visitors and new archers, but it was actually easier for Nero. He could always take an extra lap or two whenever he went the wrong way.

Outside Queen Ash’s office, Nero took a few deep, slow breaths. Everyone said he was a persuasive speaker. He had an InterKingdom Speech Tournament trophy.

But convincing Queen Ash to change her mind was the true test. On the trip, he’d filled up lots of index cards with his strongest arguments for letting St. Nicholas go. He looked them over one more time and stuffed the cards into his pocket.

He knocked.

“What is it now?” Queen Ash called through the door. “Did the prisoner escape?”

Nero went in and shut the door behind him. “Prisoner, Ma’am?”

“Oh, it’s you. Finally got tired of that little inventor princess?” Queen Ash held out her hand. Without saying anything, Nero bent and kissed it. The queen didn’t like hearing about the youngest princess of Cochem, even though Twyla was her niece.

He decided not to mention King Schwartz’s message. Damage control was easier when Queen Ash didn’t know Nero was doing it. “I came right home as soon as I saw your picture in the Proclamation.”

Queen Ash re-settled her crown and purred. “Nothing like being proclaimed to the Seven Kingdoms to put spring back into my heart.”

Nero’s time in Cochem had shown him that Queen Ash’s view of the world’s rules was not quite the same as everyone else’s.

Queen Ash went to the full-length mirror, checking herself over from crown to toe. Her hand went to her keys and played with the skeleton key to the dungeon. A sign that someone was probably in it. “How flattering was it?”

“Actually, it wasn’t flattering at all,” Nero said, thinking of the line about the “reckless Blackfly queen.”

But the queen’s gaze in the mirror was focused on her head. Her eyes narrowed. “They left my crown off again?”

“No, Ma’am. The Proclamation said that the Blackfly Kingdom had forgotten how much it owed to the other kingdoms.”

Queen Ash snorted. “As if Oliver would ever let me forget.”

Oliver was the queen’s older brother and King of Cochem Kingdom. She had “borrowed” his Velvet Purse full of silver and spent it painting his castle black. Unsurprisingly, King Oliver wanted his silver back.

Queen Ash laid down her spyglass and adjusted her crown. “I think I like being in a Proclamation or two. Oliver forgets he’s not the only one leading a kingdom. . .Unless I come up with something better?”

Before this conversation, Nero had hoped a new Proclamation might bury the bad news about the Blackflys. But standing in front of Queen Ash, he changed his mind. “I don’t think you need anything. . .else. The Proclamation should be up for a long time. It just went up yesterday.”

This brought Nero back to the reason he’d come home. “Would you like me to check on the prisoner?”

Queen Ash looked at him sharply. “St. Nicholas is perfectly safe in the water dungeon.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” Nero’s charm kept his voice as mild as milk. It was true then. As Crown Prince, he couldn’t act against the queen, but he had to save her from herself.

St. Nicholas!

Of all people!

Nero turned his face away. Even if he got St. Nicholas and his reindeer out tonight, the Blackflys would never live down the shame of locking him up in the water dungeon.

He coughed. “According to the Seven Kingdoms’ Christmas Agreement, St. Nicholas doesn’t owe tolls, Ma’am.”

“He flew over our airspace,” Queen Ash said. “It’s not like I’m going to MAKE any money on St. Nicholas. Do you have any idea how much flying reindeer eat? And the creatures are so spoiled! If you put down hay that got the tiniest bit damp once, a long time ago, they sneeze up a storm and trample all over it. Picky eaters.”

Nero grabbed the opening she’d given him. “If you’d like them to leave, you could unroll the black carpet for St. Nicholas and send him home. Make it look like he’s been here as an honored guest. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms would think he’d stayed in the AirCastle room instead of the dungeon.”

Queen Ash frowned. “AirCastle is an idea.” Her head tilted side to side, as if she was thinking it over. “But I won’t make breakfast.”

“If he’s leaving, Ma’am,” Nero said, in his most charming voice, “he won’t need breakfast. Think what a savings that would be. Of course, the real savings would be the reindeer feed. Your AirCastle would be famous too, because you could say St. Nicholas had been here.”

Queen Ash tapped her foot on the stone floor, thinking it over.

Nero waited, hoping he’d said enough.

“Very well,” Queen Ash said. “But he’s not leaving until he’s paid up. Oh, and I’ll pick out his room myself. You get to go out and cut grass so we won’t have to buy it. Every day. If these beasts aren’t fed daily, they start leaping up in the air and make a mess of the whole castle. Take two archers! We don’t have time for you to get lost.”

Grrr. The queen had twisted his AirCastle idea right around. Nero could see himself hunting for grass, further and further away every day which would make it much harder to help St. Nicholas escape. He definitely didn’t want sneering Blackfly archers following him around. “But—”

“Now what?” Queen Ash went over to her desk, muttering about demanding children.

Pouring on the charm, Nero wove her complaint into what he wanted to say. “You’re right, Ma’am. Children will be demanding. Without St. Nicholas, the children will be unhappy on December 6th. And their parents—”

“That’s. The. Whole. Point.” Queen Ash spoke with exaggerated patience. “What do they teach in Crown Prince training? If no one cares whether St. Nicholas got out or not, I wouldn’t be able to hold him for ransom. It’s basic economics.”

Nero gave up his point about unrest in the Blackfly Kingdom because of unhappy families and tried with his last point. “The Fairy Council for the Protection of Magical Creatures will give us a lot of trouble about the reindeer.”

Queen Ash looked up from her desk. “Which is why YOU should be out cutting grass. The Council wouldn’t like them going hungry. Remind me again why you’re still here?”

“I’m going now, Ma’am.” Nero saluted.

“Excellent news.”

Nero backed out of her office, fuming. Persuasive speaking wasn’t enough. Magic wasn’t enough. How was he supposed to control the damage? Queen Ash acted like she was listening and then did whatever she wanted to do. What good was a magnetic personality when it had no impact on her at all?

The Blackfly Kingdom was supposed to be gearing up to sell King Schwartz’s French-style goodies. But no one was going to buy baked goods from St. Nick’s kidnappers. Queen Ash’s debts were going to ruin the kingdom, even if the Crown Prince wasn’t allowed to say so.

Hopeless. Nero threw his hands above his head. He hadn’t even gotten the key to the water dungeon.

#

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Under Pressure With a Squash

The Multiplication Problem

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Copyright © 2020 Laurel Decher

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

ISBN 978-3-9820075-9-5 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN 978-3-9820075-8-8 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN 978-3-9820075-7-1 (ebook Edition)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020909937

CONTENTS

  1. A Pointless Test 1

  2. The Point Monster 14

  3. The Test Problem 27

  4. Thursdays for Thinking 37

  5. Second in Command 60

  6. First Day of Fairy School 67

  7. Follow that Hubbard! 80

  8. In Defense of Cupids 98

  9. Barging In 114

  10. Point Counseling 132

  11. Tunnel Trouble 151

  12. The Fairy Ranger Library 166

  13. Multiplication Madness 184

  14. The Ranger Queen 201

  15. The Test Flight 213

  16. A Long Knitting Night 222

  17. Transportation Trouble 237

  18. More Thinking on Thursdays 244

  19. The Laughing Lake 253

  20. Epilogue 272

 

scene separator SQUASH

CHAPTER ONE

A Pointless Test

MAGELLAN

AT FIRST, NO one at the Royal Aeronautical Academy would talk to Prince Magellan. He was glad to have surprise on his side. He was only eleven years old. No one suspected he was hoping for free room and board for his perpetually hungry dragon.

The Royal Aeronautical Academy was full of royals from all over the Seven Kingdoms. A plain old prince was nothing special, even if he could draw maps. Standing on the open parade grounds of the Magenta Kingdom, he felt like a blade of grass. Cadets and officers filed passed him without a second glance.

He wasn’t as well known as his twin sister, Saffy, the Crown Princess of Saffron Kingdom. She’d won every Archery Contest she’d ever entered. Even outside their own kingdom, people asked for her autograph. While Magellan was being ignored on this side of the Magenta Kingdom, she was registering for an Archery Contest on the other.

The Royal Academy students had definitely seen her hit a bullseye. She competed in every Archery Contest in the Seven Kingdoms. She also never missed.

After a three-hour trip from the Saffron Kingdom by dragon, and a few more minutes dropping Saffy off on the other side of the fortress, Magellan was under pressure.

Weak from lack of food, the dragon was slower now. It lay on the paved walkway like a large, lumpy, saffron-yellow boulder. The dragon was the whole reason they were in the Magenta Kingdom today.

They were running out of dragon food. The mountain of coal donated by the other kingdoms had dwindled to almost nothing. The Saffron Kingdom’s treasure chests were empty. The Royal Aeronautical Academy was Magellan’s last hope.

A battalion of maintenance staff with massive brooms swept towards them.

“Sir? Can you move your equipment?” one of them asked Magellan, nudging the sleeping Saffron dragon’s tail with her broom. “We’re working here.”

“Oh, right. I mean, yes, ma’am.” Magellan looked around and saw a tidy row of gliders parked on the far end of the parade grounds. Probably not an outstanding idea to park his “equipment” there.

He patted the Saffron on the head. “Find a tunnel under the fortress and rest. After I find Harold, I’ll whistle for you. No snacking and no sightseeing!” He bored into the dragon’s eyes with his own.

The dragon gave him a huge, toothy yawn, shook itself, and took to the air.

The maintenance crew surged forward. Jogging backwards to keep his feet out from under their brooms, Magellan asked, “Can you tell me where the student rooms are? I’m looking for Crown Prince Harold, from Cochem Kingdom.”

The maintenance crew swarmed right around Magellan. A crew member on the right pointed her broom at a building on the other end of the parade ground. “The dormitory is over there.”

With quick broom strokes, she caught up to the rest of the crew.

“Thank you very much!” Magellan jogged over to the dormitory, got the room number from the mailboxes, and knocked on the door to Harold’s room.

Harold stuck his head out.

“Don’t know if you remember me . . . Prince Magellan?” Magellan pointed to himself and sketched a casual bow to Harold number one, the Crown Prince of Cochem Kingdom.

“Oh, yeah, come on in.” Harold held the door open wider, but after Magellan came in, Harold stuck his head out again and scanned the hall. “Saffy’s not with you?”

“Archery Contest.” Magellan was on a mission, and he didn’t have much time. “I need to fly in the trials this afternoon.”

The Royal Aeronautical Academy held equipment trials to test the newest, shiniest plane gliders and decide which ones to add to its fleet. If they picked the dragon, that would solve everything.

“Wait—” Harold’s head tilted to one side and then he shook it. “Come to the cafeteria and explain this to me while you eat.”

Harold shut his door, and they walked over to the cafeteria together. Magellan smiled. The Academy provided food for the students. And for their guests.

This could work.

Now that the dragon had finally kicked its snacking-from-passing-barges habit. At least, Magellan was pretty sure the habit was kicked.

At the table, with two steaming bowls of split pea soup in front of them, Harold asked, “You mean the equipment trials this afternoon, right? Find a spare glider in your tunnels?”

He took a big spoonful of soup.

“I parked the Saffron in one of yours,” Magellan said.

Harold choked. His eyes watered and he forced a swallow. “You want to fly the dragon—” He lowered his voice and his spoon traced a loop de loop in the air.

“We’re out of coal.” Magellan shrugged and stirred his soup with his spoon.

Harold whistled. “You want to get the dragon in, so the Academy will have to feed it?”

That was the general idea, yes. Until this moment, Magellan had thought it was brilliant.

Harold covered his mouth with his hand, and his eyes laughed.

Magellan shoveled soup into his mouth, ignoring the burn. He had to convince Harold to let him try. Otherwise, the dragon had exhausted itself for nothing. “Can’t you tell them I want to come to the Academy?”

“Oh, I didn’t know. It’s hard to get in.” Harold leaned towards him, concerned now. “How are your math scores?”

“Math scores? Who’s talking about math scores?” Magellan scowled. Maybe all crown princes and princesses were obsessed with points. He’d always thought it was a Saffy thing. “All I need is ten minutes in the air. Once the judges see what the dragon can do, they’ll be falling over themselves to get it.”

“Oh, yes! Wouldn’t you love to see their faces?” Harold’s spoon scraped against the bottom of the bowl, traced out a complicated path, and added a loop de loop here and there.

Magellan waited, letting the idea of dragon flight work on Harold’s imagination.

Harold swallowed, shaking his head again. His spoon made a final ting sound in the empty bowl. “It’s too bad you’re not a student.”

Magellan had a back-up plan, but it would only work if the dragon behaved. He’d been hoping not to have to use it. “What if you flew the dragon for me?”

“Me? Could I?” Harold’s eyebrows came together. “I thought you had to be a Saffron to fly a Saffron dragon.”

“No. Nero’s a Blackfly,” Magellan said. Nero was the Crown Prince of the Blackfly Kingdom. “He’s flown the dragon all over the place.”

Of course, the tiny blackflies that showed up around Nero were dragon candy. But Harold didn’t need to know that.

Harold’s eyes narrowed, considering. “I always wanted to fly a dragon.”

His tone made Magellan jump up. “Then you’ll do it?”

Harold grinned. “Why not?”

“The dragon’s too tired for a test drive,” Magellan warned.

“That’s okay.” Harold grinned, grabbed their bowls and got up. “Let me see if I can get us a flight ticket. Maybe the two of you should lie low for a few minutes.”

Magellan couldn’t argue with that. The judges were more likely to give the dragon a chance if it surprised them.

On the paved path, Harold passed under the banner of the Mapmakers Guild on his way to the huge parade grounds. The banner marked the entrance to the Guild headquarters. Magellan had always wanted to go in there, but he had to check on his dragon. Some other day, he’d come back.

Magellan climbed down to the nearest Magenta tunnel and whistled for the dragon. An answering “Creeee!” came from inside the tunnel. Using his tunnel vision, Magellan found the dragon. “We’ve got to move closer to the entrance, so I can hear Harold.”

“Creee!” said the dragon, but it dragged itself after Magellan and they made themselves comfortable in the tunnel mouth. Tunnel vision was a practical fairy godparent gift.

The dragon put its head in Magellan’s lap. Full size now, it seemed more tired every day. In a few moments, it was snoring. Bats chittered above their heads. The dragon belonged to the Saffron tunnels, like Magellan. They were tunnel buddies. Saffy kept talking about sending it to the Magical Creature Reserve, but that would mean never seeing the dragon again. The thought made Magellan’s stomach churn.

Today was a gigantic game—tickets, judges, and points. Saffy enjoyed this kind of thing. She’d be figuring out how to get a perfect score. Magellan wondered if he should say something to Harold about staying away from coal barges. In case the dragon’s bad habit kicked in. Diving for a coal barge in mid-trial would make the dragon look even less like the real glider.

Harold could fly anything with wings. That was why he was at the Royal Aeronautical Academy in the first place. Giving him tips would be kind of insulting.

Besides, what were the chances that a barge full of coal would happen to cruise by the Magenta Kingdom during the dragon’s short trial? Hardly worth mentioning. Magellan decided he wouldn’t mention it.

After a long wait for Magellan and a second nap for the dragon, Harold called down to them, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Everything okay?”

Magellan leaned out of the tunnel and waved. He glanced down at the snoozing dragon and back up. “Hanging in there.”

Harold held out a bright blue ticket. “We got number 117. Come on up.”

“Come on, baby,” Magellan nudged the dragon awake by pushing on its armored stomach with his feet. They had to get back up to the parade grounds for the trials. It was sunny up there. Maybe sunbathing would warm up the dragon’s muscles so it could fly more easily. The dragon stretched out its long neck with a terrible squeaking sound.

Creee-k!

“You don’t feel well, do you?” Magellan patted its head and held back some branches so it could get through more easily.

The dragon scraped along the earthen steps, not like a flying creature at all. The long flight here had burned up all the coal the dragon had eaten this morning.

When they finally got up to the top, Magellan thumped the pavement in a sunny corner of the parade ground with his foot. “Come on, lie down and get some rest until it’s your turn.”

Magellan moved out of the dragon’s way.

Harold came up behind them. “Is something wrong with it?”

Magellan peered up at the sky. The sun seemed to help. Not as much as coal. “If it stays sunny until it’s our turn, it’ll be fine.” He hoped that wasn’t a lie.

“A solar-powered dragon, eh? If you say so.” Harold said.

“It’s a lizard thing.” Magellan wondered if Harold was onto something. Harold’s youngest sister, Princess Twyla, could probably build a solar dragon-recharger. But Magellan dismissed the idea. Even if she could, the Saffron Kingdom couldn’t pay for the materials.

Harold held out a scroll with a list of tasks and the points for each one. “Do you want to know how the judging works?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, sure.” Magellan took it. It hadn’t occurred to him that the dragon’s flight would be graded. But he didn’t think scoring would be the problem. A dragon was much smarter than any glider and could fly circles around any of them.

Normally, Magellan didn’t have much use for scores. What could a score say that you didn’t already know? The stuff that mattered most to him was his sketchbooks. They didn’t get grades. Either a sketch needed more work or it was time to go on to the next project.

Nothing else mattered.

Magellan was much more worried that the dragon would be disqualified. He looked down at the rivers. Please, no coal barges today. The maps he’d been drawing—night and day—for the angry barge captains were only a drop in the bucket towards the enormous cost of coal the dragon had stolen.

Harold rubbed his hands together. “If we want to convince the Academy to give room and board to a flying reptile, we’ll need a perfect score.”

“Can we get one?” Magellan asked. Saffy was the only person Magellan knew who regularly got perfect scores. In everything. He’d never tried for one before.

“We can try.” Harold winked at him. “We’d get all the best assignments. The Academy couldn’t turn down a dragon with a perfect score, right?”

Magellan coughed. He had a sudden vision of the dragon’s version of a perfect score. Magellan shook himself. He’d broken the dragon’s snacking habit. He did NOT have to worry about it anymore. “I hope not.”

“I know they wouldn’t,” Harold said. “Environmental, adaptable, renewable flight ‘equipment’ doesn’t knock on the Academy’s door every day.”

scene separator SQUASH

Two hours later, the Saffron dragon soared into the air and did a perfect loop de loop. The judging table looked surprised, and Crown Prince Vlad riffled through the Magenta Kingdom’s enormous rule books, but no one disqualified the dragon, yet.

Magellan looked down at his paper. A loop de loop was worth 10 points. The dragon corkscrewed down, then banked sharply, right before the river. Another twenty points each: 10 for the corkscrew and 10 for the recovery.

Magellan smiled. This was going to be like watching Saffy scoop up all the points on the archery range.

The dragon couldn’t lose. Magellan pumped his fist in the air.

Harold number one wasn’t having any trouble getting the Saffron dragon to do what he wanted.

Magellan huffed out a big breath to release the tightness in his chest. Better a prince from another kingdom flying on a Saffron than a dragon wasting away to skin and bones.

For the next task, the dragon had to chase a glider, pick up a mail bag in mid-air and carry it back to the judging stand. It was supposed to cross over the “Seam”, the place where the Rhine and Mosel Rivers joined.

Easy peasy for a dragon with talons. The dragon caught the mail bag in mid-air and banked to come around above the Seam . . . then took a completely unexpected dive towards the water.

Magellan’s stomach took a matching dive.

“Nooooooo,” he whispered. “You don’t do that anymore!”

Harold’s arm came up and down again—he’d whacked the dragon.

The dragon kept diving.

Harold’s body leaned way out to one side. He must be pulling the dragon’s head around to get it back on course, but the dragon swerved away from the Magenta Fortress and towards a river barge.

Harold must know the dragon was fond of coal barges. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms had seen the stories in the Proclamation about the angry barge captains. Was Harold so busy studying and flying that he didn’t read the Proclamation?

The dragon was right over the barge now.

“No, please no.” Magellan couldn’t take his eyes off them. He looked over at the judging panel and shifted from foot to foot, wishing he were on the dragon right now.

The dragon landed on the black pile of coal and dipped its head, ignoring Harold completely. After the long flight to the Academy and the loop de loop, corkscrew, and recovery, the temptation of a coal barge had been too much.

Magellan should never have let Harold fly. Magellan and the dragon were both Saffrons. They had a better bond. They’d kicked this habit together. Magellan yanked his hair with both hands. It didn’t help.

The dragon flew back up to the fortress–dipping its head and looking the other way as it passed Magellan–but flying higher and with more energy than it had for days.

The dragon landed, dropping the mailbag in the target box.

Perfect.

But too little, too late.

The judges held up their scores.

0 0 0 0 0 -5

Minus 5? Magellan had seen a lot of terrible scores on math tests, but this was ridiculous. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on his dragon. It had thrown this chance away.

Minus 5.

Magellan yanked his hair again. It hurt, but everything else hurt more. The dragon could have had all it wanted to eat for the rest of its life. One little test would have done it.

Harold number one vaulted smartly off the dragon’s back and saluted the judging panel—including Crown Prince Vlad and Princess “Shush” of the Magenta Kingdom. And a jeering Academy. The back of Harold’s neck was bright red.

He strode straight over to Magellan, and his tone was sharp. “Why didn’t you tell me your dragon has no control around coal? You made me look like an idiot in front of the entire Academy.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I’d broken that habit. Really. When I’m flying. Or Saffy.” Magellan babbled. “I thought you could fly anything.”

Magellan shut his mouth. Ooops. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Harold could fly anything. Except a Saffron dragon with an addiction to coal barges.

There was a tense moment.

“Well, if you can fly it better, then you apply to the Royal Aeronautical Academy,” Harold said. “I’m done. I think your math scores are the least of your problems.”

Harold shoved the dragon’s reins at Magellan and walked off.

Magellan called after him. “I thought you knew. Don’t you read the Proclamation around here?”

Breathing hard from the flight, the dragon burped up a jet of flame. Everyone stepped back.

“Cut it out,” Magellan said to the dragon. “You’ve already lost all your points. Are you trying to get us thrown out?”

Crown Prince Vlad walked over from the judging table. “Prince Magellan, we’ll need the dragon off the parade grounds for the rest of the equipment trials. Can you control your ‘equipment’ or do we need archers for back-up?”

Magellan gave Vlad a polite head bow and said, sweetly, “Thank you, I can control my dragon without archers.”

“What did I tell you?” Magellan muttered to the dragon and vaulted up onto its back.

As the dragon sprang up into the air, Magellan asked himself how he would ever make this right: a starving dragon, too many barge captains, Harold, Vlad, and the entire Royal Aeronautical Academy.

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CHAPTER TWO

The Point Monster

SAFFY

WHILE MAGELLAN WAS at the equipment trials, his twin sister, eleven-year-old Princess Saffy, was at the other end of the Magenta Kingdom Fortress, waiting in line.

She ground the path’s tiny yellow stones under her feet.

The dragon was getting weaker every day. The solution was obvious. They had to send it to the Fairy Kingdom’s Magical Creature Reserve. Saffy would rather keep the dragon in the Saffron Kingdom too, but it would starve to death. That wasn’t going to change. What was her brother waiting for?

Yesterday, Magellan had said he had some plan that was supposed to solve everything. He’d dropped her off an hour ago, leaving her totally in the dark.

How long did his grand plan need?

“It might not work,” was all he’d say. “Go win the Archery Contest and I’ll tell you everything later.”

Saffy went. Because the other reason she went to every Archery Contest . . . she let herself dream of a dark green Fairy Ranger uniform for a moment . . . No. That would never happen. The fairies hadn’t worked together with a Saffron Kingdoms royal for a hundred years or more.

She had to focus. She was here to prove the Saffron Crown Princess had dedication, discipline, and consistency—the things people needed from a good ruler. And oh, she needed all of those traits to keep from ditching this slooooooooow line to sneak up on Magellan. What save-the-hungry-dragon plan was he trying to pull off in the Magenta Kingdom? She was dying to know.

The line of hopeful archers stretched out in front of her all the way to the stone arch that was the official entrance for the Magenta Kingdom fortress. It was about the distance of seven full-grown Saffron dragons laid nose-to-rear, not counting tails.

Saffy was going to be here for a while.

Princess Twyla, in a Cochem silver dress, and Prince Nero, in regulation Blackfly black from his hair to his boots, were in line in front of Saffy.

Nero looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Hi, Saffy. Here to wear out all the bullseyes?”

“Hey, Nero.” Saffy shrugged. There wasn’t much she could say to that. With a fairy gift like straight shooting, it wasn’t like she could miss.

“This is for you,” Twyla said in her quiet voice, handing Saffy a scroll.

“Oh, thanks.” Saffy unrolled it. She hadn’t expected to get anything from Twyla. The drawing showed some complicated straps hooked together with buckles.

“What’s it for?” Saffy asked. Twyla was an inventor, so Saffy didn’t always know what her stuff was. It was better to ask.

“It might help.” Twyla pointed out the strength of the fastenings and how adjustable it was.

Nero looked over Saffy’s elbow at the drawing. “Oh—for the dragon?” Nero was the one who’d found the dragon in the Saffron tunnels.

Twyla coughed, letting Saffy know she didn’t appreciate her folding the scroll’s corners back and forth. Oops–she’d been thinking about the dragon problem again and her fingers must have wandered. She smoothed the ridges with her thumb. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to wreck it.”

“It’s a harness,” Twyla said.

“A harness for a Saffron?” Saffy bristled. “The dragon isn’t dangerous.” Twyla should know better. She didn’t keep her Cochem rook harnessed.

“Could be worth a try. Barge captains can be dangerous to dragons.” Nero’s tone had cooled.

For the umpteenth time, Saffy wondered how much control he had over his magical charm. She’d helped him with it once, but she still wasn’t sure how it worked.

“Of course, I didn’t do you any favors teaching your dragon about barges.” Nero rubbed the back of his neck.

“No, you didn’t,” Saffy said, because it was true. “But it’s not your fault it likes coal.”

He’d helped with coal donations from the whole Seven Kingdoms, and she—along with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms—had already thanked him for that a few times. The coal was down to a few chunks. That’s why her dragon was starving. It broke her heart.

What could Magellan’s plan be? Prospecting for coal in the Magenta Kingdom?

Nero and Twyla started talking about some cable tram project. As they got deeper into cables and pulleys and trams, they turned their backs on Saffy.

If Twyla’s father, King Oliver, was behind this harness idea, it meant the Saffron Kingdom had to hurry and solve their dragon problem. The King of Cochem was well-loved. Seven Kingdoms people followed his lead.

To Saffy’s left, the gorge dropped steeply down to the Rhine river. The hillsides were covered with tidy rows of grapevines that slanted in every direction.

Now, in the early fall, the vineyards made a striped patchwork of green and yellow, with an occasional flash of brilliant orange, surrounded by dark green pines and black rock. It looked like a giant had combed his colorful hair every which way. Saffy wondered if the Magical Creature Reserve was down there somewhere.

If Magellan’s plan failed today, the dragon would have to go to the Reserve tomorrow, so the fairies could get it strong again. They were the experts when it came to magical creatures. She was sure they could help—not that she actually knew how.

Every time she brought it up with Magellan, he shut her down. On the way over, he’d said, “You told me there was a Saffron dragon here a hundred years ago. That means there’s a way to feed one. Without fairies. In the Saffron Kingdom. Without coal barges.”

Saffy thought she knew how that had happened. Long, long ago, Queen Hildegard of Saffron had been both a queen and a healer. People said she’d learned her healing skills from the fairies. Queen Hildegard would have been the perfect person to re-energize the dragon, however that worked.

Basically, Saffy wanted to solve their dragon problem by becoming the next Queen Hildegard. But she couldn’t say that out loud, not even to her twin. Her face burned. It wasn’t raw ambition, whatever it looked like from the outside.

Saffy had always wanted that kind of life. She would do her duty as queen, while protecting and healing the creatures in her kingdom.

What she needed was information, like how to get into the Fairy Ranger School when she wasn’t a fairy. She’d been working on the Saffron fairy godparents for years, but so far? Nothing. She’d even tried the twin angle. She and Magellan were twins. Merrill and Webb were twins.

Still nothing.

She wasn’t asking for another fairy godparent gift. She was willing to work until she got whatever points the Fairy Ranger School required. She knew how to earn points. It was what she did best.

All she needed was a Fairy Ranger to show up, scouting for talent at the Archery Contest. Then when Saffy had racked up a perfect archery score, she could ask what else the Fairy Ranger School wanted.

The line crept forward again, about as far as one dragon’s claw. Saffy sighed. What was so complicated about signing up archers?

Way up in front, where the waiting line touched the fortress, a single Magenta guard stood at attention. A Magenta banner swung in the breeze above the arch.

The banner read “Watch Gate” in spiky black letters.

Saffy supposed she should be grateful she was finally close enough to read it.

The day was warm and sunny, with a light breeze—not windy enough to disturb the archers, but airy enough to be comfortable.

But Saffy wasn’t.

The judges signed them into the Archery Contest one at a time—sloooooooowly. A new Magenta guard replaced the old.

Saffy rolled her eyes. She’d been in line so long, the guard had gone on a tea break.

She turned all the way around, scanning from the Watch Gate down the long line of royals to the path behind her. Switchbacks cut down into the gorge below in giant zigzags.

Something moved. What was that dark green thing with wings zooming up the path? It was too big for an insect. Too small for a bird.

Saffy’s heartbeat picked up. Maybe a Fairy Ranger? Suddenly, the registration line was the perfect place to be. She took a deep breath to make the jitters go away.

Calm.

Archers knew how to be calm.

Calm.

But she couldn’t take her eyes away. Not after all this time.

At that moment, Prince Indy cruised by her place in line. His deep Indigo Kingdom blue tunic blocked her view, and she stepped to one side, practically stabbing herself with the competition bow slung over his shoulder.

He threw up his hands in a big fake show of surprise. “Oh, I didn’t expect to see the Point Monster here.”

Ignoring Indy’s “nickname”, Saffy leaned out of line to look around him.

That was definitely a fairy flying up the path—not the Saffron’s fairy godparents, Merrill and Webb, and not Kizzy, the fairy godmother for Cochem. Whose fairy godparent was that? Saffy squinted.

Saffy wished Indy would get out of the way. “Are you trying to cut in line?”

Indy dangled his badge in front of her eyes, blocking her view again. “Already registered. I wanted to get a good spot.”

Indy’s early registration meant he got first pick for his target. “As long as you’re not next to me,” Saffy sidestepped him, but he moved.

She wished he’d go away.

In case a miracle had happened, and a scout was here today. She definitely didn’t want him next to her in the contest today. He made too many nasty comments—quiet enough that the judges didn’t hear, loud enough that the nearest archers did.

“I wouldn’t want to shake your concentration.” Indy bowed, with extra hand flourishes, mocking her. “What are you looking at, anyway?”

A buzzing sound came from the left.

Saffy pointed without thinking. “There!”

The fairy wore the dark forest green of the Fairy Rangers. Saffy beamed and clapped her hands together. A Fairy Ranger at the Archery Contest could only mean one thing. She could ask him about the Fairy Ranger School.

To Saffy’s delight, the Fairy Ranger flew right up to them and hovered above Indy’s bow-free shoulder.

Tiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

A tiny arrow flew through the air and stuck in Indy’s bow.

Indy’s expression went stony, and he saluted. “Good morning, Ranger Ganzorig.”

“Good morning, Prince Indigo. Your concentration might need a little more work,” Ranger Ganzorig said.

“Yes, sir.” Indy’s lips barely moved.

“Better than last time.” The Ranger retrieved his arrow and replaced it in his quiver.

Saffy hadn’t even seen the Ranger draw. “That was amazing!”

The Fairy Ranger touched the brim of his dark green hat to her. “Good morning, Princess Saffy.”

“Good morning, Ranger.” Saffy curtsied. “That’s a gorgeous bow—is it Mongolian?”

“Yes, it is,” The Ranger gave her a courtly bow in mid-air. “See you at the contest!” He flew past the line of waiting archers towards the Watch Gate.

Indy rubbed his thumb over the tiny hole in the varnish. “I needed to use that bow today!”

Saffy had to know. “Was that your fairy godfather?”

“Yeah.” Indy’s answer was half-grunt, half-word.

Saffy’s mouth dropped open. There was no justice.

“Something’s gonna fly in your mouth,” Indy said, out of the corner of his own.

Saffy shut her mouth. That was more like Indy.

The Fairy Ranger disappeared into the fortress. Saffy wished she’d asked him about the School. She’d wanted him to see her archery first and hadn’t wanted to ask with Indy listening. She could try again inside.

“Actually, I am surprised to see you here.” Indy’s voice was full of confidential concern, probably fake. Indy was back to normal. “You really shouldn’t enter these contests anymore.”

Saffy rolled her eyes. He tried this before every Archery Contest. She lowered her voice. “Fairy gifts are meant to be used.”

But not discussed in a public place. No one wanted to accidentally insult the Fairy Kingdom.

“I didn’t mean your fairy gift.” Indy lowered his voice too, mocking her with his eyes. “I meant the Sanction against the Saffron Kingdom. But you must have cleared that up or you wouldn’t be in line, would you?”

“A Sanction?” Saffy asked. That meant the Saffrons wouldn’t be allowed to participate. She didn’t think anyone would make that up. Not even Indy.

“Oh, so you hadn’t heard? Probably just a rumor then. See you later—or not.” Prince Indy threaded his way through the line and the Watch Gate and disappeared into the fortress.

Could the Archery Contest shut out the Saffron Kingdom? Such a thing had never happened before.

Saffy couldn’t be left out of this contest. It would be too cruel.

The Magenta Kingdom was known for being fair. The Magenta queen, Queen Maggie, would make sure Saffy didn’t get turned back at the Watch Gate. Her parents would have gotten a letter from King Pink before this.

Or someone would have come and taken Saffy out of the line.

A tap on her elbow made her leap into the air. She had an arrow nocked and her bow drawn before she realized what she’d done.

“Uh, excuse me. Princess Saffy?” The Marigold Crown Prince was very cool in battle, or very polite, or both.

Heat climbed up Saffy’s neck. “Sorry.” She carefully took the arrow off the bowstring and put it back in her quiver.

“I should have warned you.” Prince William of Marigold handed her a scroll and a packet of something. He wore a glowing deep orange tunic and matching pants.

“Thank you.” Saffy blinked from the intensity of Marigold orange, recovered and gave him a head bow. With a royal color like that, how his kingdom had stayed hidden for so many years was a mystery. “What’s this?”

“Hot peppers,” Prince William said. The Marigolds were famous for their cooking. “And a recipe. I thought your dragon might like it, you know, better than coal.”

“Right.” Saffy’s face flamed.

Prince William bowed and went back in the line behind her. Saffy had a split second to wonder if he’d given her the hot peppers now because he didn’t expect to see her in the contest.

She felt sick.

Unmoved by her situation, barges cruised up and down the Rhine. That one was filled with a point-y black pile that had to be coal. Saffy winced, searching the sky for the Saffron dragon, but she only saw gliders from the Royal Aeronautical Academy. Maybe Harold number one was out flying today.

She’d ask Magellan later. When she asked him about his plan.

This line! She tapped her foot and forced herself to breathe deeply. She had to stay in the zone for the Archery Contest.

She was where she needed to be at this moment. She had her archery equipment. Her long, trim-fitting saffron-yellow tunic and pants were perfect for archery. Her soft leather boots were silent—unless she made the gravel crunch out of frustration.

Appropriate. Correct. Functional.

The peaceful streets and houses of Koblenz filled the Rhine’s opposite bank. They made her restless.

The line moved up a bit, and she got a clear view of the German Corner—the arrowhead-shaped piece of land where the Rhine and Mosel Rivers met.

Also, a magical place. Magic made her think of fairies. If the Fairy Ranger was here scouting for their Fairy Ranger School, she would finally get her chance. It had to mean something that he knew her nickname. Her heart sang.

Saffy had promised herself that if she ever got the attention of the Fairy Rangers, she would prove herself worthy. The Fairy Rangers were the only ones who could teach her to be like Queen Hildegard. When the dragon went to the Reserve, Saffy had to be able to visit it. This Archery Contest was going to be the most important in her life.

Queen Sweetheart of the Rose Kingdom walked by, arm in arm with her royal husband. She nodded and smiled at Saffy. Then she turned to her husband. Her voice carried. “It’s hard to understand a creature with such unusual tastes. Coal has to be SO indigestible.”

Saffy gritted her teeth. The Rose Kingdom had nothing to worry about from a friendly, rogue dragon. Their castle had a massive cloaking defense wall that let them disguise themselves completely.

The other six kingdoms should mind their own business. The dragon belonged to the Saffron Kingdom.

Finally, it was Saffy’s turn.

King Pink, in fuchsia robes, and Queen Ash, in a flowing Blackfly gown, were handling the registration at a broad table set up next to the Watch Gate.

Saffy curtsied.

“Good morning, Queen Ash. Good morning, King Pink.”

Good thing Magellan wasn’t here. He would have had something to say about this combination of royals. Saffy’s stomach felt nervous.

King Pink was known for fairness. The Blackfly queen was known for . . . cheating. There was no other way to say it.

“Do you have any idea what your dragon is costing me in tolls?” Queen Ash demanded.

Saffy tensed. It must be quite a pile of gold. The Blackfly Castle was a tollbooth in the middle of the Rhine River. Since the dragon had taken to chasing barges, traffic was waaaaaay down. “No, ma’am.”

King Pink cleared his throat, and Saffy turned eagerly towards him. She reached out for her registration badge.

But he wasn’t offering her one. “Until the Saffron dragon problem has been solved, I’m afraid I can’t let Saffrons register for any Archery Contests.”

“But I have to get into the contest,” Saffy couldn’t miss this once-in-a-lifetime chance. “There’s a Fairy Ranger here today.”

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you,” King Pink said, apologetically. “There’s a Sanction against the Saffron Kingdom. No one from that kingdom can participate in Seven Kingdoms events. It’s the rule.”

Behind Saffy, someone cleared their throat.

“Please step to the side,” Queen Ash said, with malicious pleasure.

Seriously outnumbered, Saffy stumbled sideways.

The smile on Queen Ash’s face made Saffy’s fingers itch for the bowstring.

Saffy put her shoulders back and walked away from the registration table to the deserted place at the very end of the line.

In a situation like this, her fairy gift was no help at all.

Wait, maybe it was? She’d show them what kind of Ranger Queen she could be.

Stepping back from the others, she nocked, drew, aimed way up in the sky, and let her arrow fly over the wall of the Magenta Fortress.

Ha! The first bullseye of the Archery Contest.

From the wrong side of the Watch Gate.

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