well, the boots make me run really fast,” Smimf answered, “which makes my legs get hot, so I wear the shorts. But when I move with that kind of speed, the wind makes my upper half rather cold. So I wear the woolens. It all works out quite well when I’m running. Though it can get uncomfortable when I’m standing still. Like now.” He pulled off his hat and rung out a bit of his dripping, sweaty hair.
“You two can chat about fashion on the way,” Frank said impatiently. “You’re wasting time. Leave now.”
“Yeah, before Snow White sees,” added Flik.
Duncan winced. “Ooh, Snow. I’d better talk to her about this before I go.”
“There’s no time; your friend is in danger,” Frank said. “We’ll talk to Snow for you. Don’t worry.”
“You sure?” Duncan asked. “But what if—”
“This is hero business, remember?” Frank said. “The world needs you. Or something like that. She’ll understand. Now go.”
“Well, you are right about my hero responsibilities,” Duncan said. “But—”
“Go!” Frank barked.
“All right,” Duncan said. “Lead the way, Mr. Smimf.”
Smimf took one step and seemed to vanish into thin air.
“Huh? I didn’t even see which direction he went,” Duncan said, stunned.
Smimf reappeared. “Sorry, sir, Your Highness, sir. I’ve got to remember to keep it slower. Let’s try again.” He ran off at a startling speed, but Duncan was at least able to see him this time.
“Onward, Papa Scoots Jr.!” Duncan shouted, and rode off after the messenger.
Frank rubbed his hands together. He’d gotten rid of Duncan. And the royal family had Snow in such a tizzy that it would probably be hours before she realized her husband was missing. Frank and Flik did something very rare for Sylvarian dwarfs: They smiled.
You’re never too young to start being a hero. Practice dueling one-handed so you never need to drop your blankie.
—THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO
“
“I’d like it better if I wasn’t chained to it,” Liam said. Iron shackles bound his ankles to the legs of the throne. “Seriously. My feet are going numb. Can we loosen these cuffs a bit?”
“Sorry if your tootsies are sore, Tough Guy,” Briar snickered. “Better get used to it. How else can I make sure you don’t try to run before the wedding?”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Liam said. “You obviously hate me. Why would you want to be tied to me for the rest of your life?”
“Haven’t we been through this before, Lover Boy?” she said. “It’s destiny. You were promised to me when we were both eensy-weensy babies. And when something is promised to me, I make sure I get it.”
Liam couldn’t argue those facts. Back when Briar was an infant and he was only three years old, their parents made arrangements for the two to someday be married. But Briar ended up spending the majority of her life hiding from an evil fairy’s curse, and when Liam woke her from an enchanted slumber and finally got to meet her in person, he discovered she’d become a spoiled brat. He called off the wedding—and in doing so earned himself the scorn of both their kingdoms.
“But I still don’t get why you want to marry me. You spent the last year spreading lies about me and destroying my reputation,” Liam said bitterly. “Your people despise me. Do you think they’ll be happy to see me by your side?”
“They will feel however I tell them to feel,” Briar said. “I’m pretty much a goddess around here. And besides, nobody cares about your precious little reputation. You’re just here to be eye candy.”
That comment struck a nerve (not the eye candy bit—the part about Liam’s reputation). “You’ve tried to take everything from me just to be spiteful,” he said coldly. “But no matter what people may think, I know who I am. Being a hero is all I have lived for—ever since I was three years old and I saved the lives of your parents.”
Briar chuckled. “Oh, yes, that’s right—those two professional assassins you managed to beat up when you were just a toddler,” she said. “Nothing about that story ever seemed—oh, I don’t know—a wee bit fishy to you?”
“Look,” Liam said, “if you’re going to force me to marry you, why drag it out? Why aren’t you calling a cleric in here right now to perform the ceremony and get it over with?”
Briar shook her head in disbelief. “I’m a princess, darling. And not just any princess. I’m heir to the throne of the richest kingdom on the continent. I am having a proper royal wedding: platinum coach pulled by two dozen white horses, ninety-eight-piece marching band, cannons blasting a salute, thirty-foot-tall bouquets of flowers most people thought were extinct, little mesh bags of those pink and white candied almonds—everything!”
“And the groom in chains?” Liam asked.
“Why not?” Briar said dismissively. “I’m going to look so fabulous, most people won’t even notice you anyway. Seriously, look at us next to each other.” She sat down in the throne next to Liam’s and struck a regal pose.
“Adore me, people,” she commanded.
The dozens of servants and guards who had been standing silently along the marble walls suddenly came alive with awestruck gasps and murmurs of admiration. Several clasped their hands to their chests or fanned themselves. A few pretended to faint.
One man did nothing.
“Ahem! Ruffian,” Briar scolded. “I don’t hear any oohing and aahing coming from under that dreary hood of yours.”
Ruffian the Blue, the most notorious bounty hunter alive, stood stoically between two bronze statues of dancing goddesses. “I’m not paid to ooh,” he said. “Or to aah.”
Briar scowled at him. “But I pay you to do a lot of other things, Grizzle Face,” she sneered. “And if you’d like to receive the gold you’re due for those tasks, I’d better start hearing some adoration.”
Ruffian took a deep breath. “Ooh,” he said flatly. “Aah.”
“You’re not impressing
