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—”
“Yes, I will save your woman,” Gustav declared. “Come! We’re off!”
And with that, Gustav galloped down the road toward the dark, dense forest.
“Please don’t go so fast!” Frederic called as he followed in a sloppy zigzag. “This saddle really chafes!”
Over the years, Frederic had met his fair share of other princes. None of them were anything like this prince of Sturmhagen. Gustav was so gruff. He had no patience, no manners, and ridiculously poor communication skills. Frederic could only presume the man’s flamenco dancing was just as awkward. He wasn’t at all surprised that Gustav hadn’t been able to hold on to his relationship with Rapunzel. But considering his own fiancée had run off, who was he to judge?
As the two princes rode across the countryside in search of Ella, Frederic began to grow frustrated with Gustav. For one thing, the big man always insisted they camp outside. Anytime Frederic suggested they look for an inn, Gustav would respond with, “Bah!” Or sometimes, “Pah!” Or even, “Pffft!”
Every night, Gustav would contentedly sprawl out on bare grass, and then mock Frederic for attempting to curl up on a trio of spread-out handkerchiefs.
“Cleanliness,
