The Hero’s Guide to Storming the Castle. Christopher Healy

“But I suspect this little scratch is not the greatest of your concerns right now.”

      Frederic looked his old friend in the eye. “Why is my father so cruel?” he asked. “I thought I’d proven myself to him. But he still treats me like a child. He still wants me penned in, to keep me afraid.”

      Reginald sat down on the edge of Frederic’s elaborate four-poster bed. “Why does that matter? You know what you’re capable of now. So do your friends. And Lady Ella.”

      Frederic shook his head. “I’m not so sure about Ella. I still don’t think she’s very impressed by me. How can she be when Liam . . .”

      “When Liam what?” Reginald asked.

      “Nothing,” Frederic said. He absentmindedly began fiddling with a cologne spritzer. “It’s just that Liam is trying to turn me into a true hero, so naturally my father can’t stand him. It’s only a matter of time until Liam gets banished. Father will stoop to anything to make sure I don’t mar his perfect royal image.”

      “The king is not all that bad,” Reginald said with sympathy in his voice.

      “You’re talking about the man who kept me in check as a child by hiring a circus tiger to terrify me.”

      “Point taken,” Reginald said. “But what I’m trying to say is that the king’s motives may not be as cruel hearted as you think. It’s about time you learned the truth about what happened to your mother.”

      “I already know. She died when I was an infant,” Frederic said. “A fatal dust allergy. It might be hereditary, which is why I wash my hands fifteen times a day.”

      “No, Frederic. That’s just the story your father gave the public,” Reginald said. “Adventure may not be welcome in these palace halls today, but that wasn’t always the case. Queen Anabeth regularly strapped a sword to her back and went running off in search of one lost treasure or another.”

      “You can’t be serious,” Frederic said, turning the idea over in his head. “My parents? Adventurers? At least that would explain how Father got all those medals.”

      “Ha!” Reginald couldn’t help but laugh. “Your father awarded all those medals to himself. They’re meaningless. Have you ever read what’s engraved on them? One is for hopscotch.

      “No, your mother was the only thrill seeker in the family. The king hated it. But even his objections couldn’t keep Queen Anabeth reined in. Shortly after you were born, she heard a legend about a solid gold duckling that was supposedly hidden away in an ancient ruined temple on the wastes of Dar. She wanted that priceless idol for you.”

      “I do like ducklings,” Frederic said in a bittersweet tone.

      “She took a small team of soldiers with her, trekked off to Dar, and never came back.”

      “Never came back? Does that mean it’s possible she’s still alive?” Frederic asked hopefully.

      “Sadly, no. One of her men limped back here weeks later, the only survivor. He explained how they’d accidentally set off a trap and the temple collapsed on top of the whole party. He only escaped because he was carrying your mother’s bags and lagging far behind. Your mother never packed light.”

      “I can’t believe this,” Frederic said. “It’s like something out of a Sir Bertram the Dainty story.”

      “It is nothing like a Sir Bertram story,” Reginald said. “Sir Bertram’s ‘adventures’ revolve around things like sorting socks and adding the proper amount of pepper to a casserole. Your mother lost her life! While treasure hunting. In booby-trapped ancient ruins. And I’m positive that her death has a lot to do with why your father is so overprotective. He doesn’t want to lose you the same way.”

      “Wow,” Frederic said. “Now I feel kind of guilty.”

      “Don’t,” Reginald added quickly. “You need to live your own life and do things your way. After all, you’ve got your mother’s blood in you. You need to know that. And it was time for you to finally hear the whole story.”

      A knock at the door interrupted them. “Frederic?” It was Ella.

      Reginald let her in. “Good evening, milady. I was just going.” He gave Frederic a formal nod and exited.

      “Shut the door and come here,” Frederic said in a giddy whisper. He was standing by the corner of his bed, vibrating.

      “What is it?” she asked, curious as to what had Frederic in such a state.

      “My mother died trying to steal me a golden ducky!”

      “Oh, my. That’s . . . I’m sorry, I don’t actually know how to respond to that.”

      “I only just found out,” Frederic went on. “She was an adventurer, a real hero type. My mother—can you believe it? It’s fascinating. You know, this is probably why I’m so drawn to people like you and Liam.”

      “Liam! He’s why I came to you. He’s leaving tomorrow!”

      “Tomorrow? But where will he go?”

      “Nowhere,” Ella answered. “He’s going to wander the world or something. He thinks he’s outstayed his welcome here.”

      “Well, with my dad, maybe. But certainly not with me,” Frederic said. “I should share this new revelation about my mother with him. It might help him understand why my father acts the way he does.”

      “Let’s go,” Ella said. She grabbed Frederic by the hand, and they hurried back toward the balcony where she’d left Liam.

      Maybe Gustav could use a roommate, Liam thought as he stood on the balcony gazing at the dim sliver of moon in the sky. Nah, who am I kidding? He’d cut up all my capes while I slept.

      A sudden clinking sound snapped him out of his musings. He looked to his left and saw something shiny glinting by the balcony railing. On closer inspection, he saw that it was a metal grappling hook.

      “What the—?”

      Liam peered over the edge. A rope hung down to the gardens below, but there was no one on it. He put his hand on his sword, but before he could draw it, he was clonked on the head by a short, heavy club.

      Ella and Frederic appeared at the balcony door just in time to get a glimpse of a hooded man scaling a rope up to the terra-cotta-tile palace roof. The intruder had Liam, unconscious, slung over his shoulder.

      “Liam!” Ella shouted. She dove out onto the balcony and grabbed the intruder’s rope. “Drop him,” she snarled as she yanked the line back and forth.

      “Stop that,” the stranger moaned as his boots slid from the wall. He was left dangling momentarily but quickly managed to regain his footing. He glared down at Ella. “Think. You don’t really want me to drop your friend from this height.”

      In a second he was over the roof’s edge and out of sight.

      “Frederic, hold the rope steady,” Ella said. “I’m going after him.”

      “I should call the guards,” Frederic argued, but he grabbed the rope nonetheless. Ella made it halfway up to the roof before the kidnapper kicked the grappling hook from its perch. Ella, the rope, and the iron hook all tumbled down onto Frederic.

      “Crud,” Ella muttered. “We’ll catch him on the other side!” She jumped to her feet and drew her rapier. But she was stopped in her tracks by King Wilberforce and four royal guards.

      “Swordplay. I knew it,” the king said. “As soon as I heard the noise, I said to myself, ‘There they go again.’ I knew you would disobey my orders, but frankly, I’d hoped you’d be able to restrain yourselves for longer than twenty minutes.”

      “No one’s playing here, Your Highness,” Ella said urgently. “This is real. Liam was just kidnapped.”

      King