DEDICATION
To Charlotte, Jonah, Jenn, and Stu
CONTENTS
Dedication
MAP OF THE THIRTEEN KINGDOMS
PROLOGUE: Things You Don’t Know about Outlaws
PART I: ON THE RUN
1. An Outlaw Is Never Around When You Need One
2. An Outlaw Faints at the Sight of Blood
3. An Outlaw Plays Doctor
4. An Outlaw Feels No Pain
5. An Outlaw Listens to His Dad
6. An Outlaw Cries for Help
7. An Outlaw Gets Nuts
8. An Outlaw Puts His Right Foot In, Puts His Right Foot Out
9. An Outlaw Goes Green
10. An Outlaw Smells Something Fishy
11. An Outlaw Squats Where He Shouldn’t
12. An Outlaw Never Forgets Mom and Dad
PART II: OUT TO SEA
13. An Outlaw Never Goes Hungry
14. An Outlaw Learns the Ropes
15. An Outlaw Does Something Rash
16. An Outlaw Rocks the Boat
17. An Outlaw Speaks Politely to a Lady
18. An Outlaw Has No Words
19. An Outlaw Boats to the Rock
20. An Outlaw Forgets to Pack a Change of Clothes
PART III: IN THE SLAMMER
21. An Outlaw Enjoys Cozy Accommodations
22. An Outlaw Doesn’t Know What Kind of Bird She Is
23. An Outlaw Talks All Proper-Like
24. An Outlaw Needs a Good Stylist
25. An Outlaw Uses Her Head
26. An Outlaw Hears Bells
PART IV: AFTER THE TRUTH
27. An Outlaw Hits the Books
28. An Outlaw Can’t Take the Heat
29. An Outlaw Spins the Bottle
30. An Outlaw Cleans His Plate
31. An Outlaw Takes the Low Road
32. An Outlaw Melts Hearts
33. An Outlaw Has Excellent People Skills
34. An Outlaw Can Save Your Kingdom
PART V: ON THE ATTACK
35. An Outlaw Is Speechless
36. An Outlaw Hangs Out with a Bad Crowd
37. An Outlaw Is Not Speechless
38. An Outlaw Storms the Castle
39. An Outlaw Catches Up with Old Friends
40. An Outlaw Can Be a Hero
41. The Villain Wins
EPILOGUE: A Hero Can Live Happily Ever After . . . or Not
Acknowledgments
Back Ad
About the Author
Books by Christopher Healy
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
MAP
PROLOGUE
THINGS YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT OUTLAWS
Outlaws have too many feathers in their hats.
Outlaws are allergic to seafood.
Outlaws never forget to floss.
Oh, and outlaws are people who are hunted down because they have been accused of terrible crimes.
Okay, I suppose it’s possible you knew that last bit already. But if so, then you may be wondering, “What’s with all the outlaw stuff? This is a book about the League of Princes, right? Those guys are heroes. Or at least hero-ish.”
And after reading the first two books of this series (which might be a good idea before you go any further with this one), yes, you’d have every reason to assume that the famed Princes Charming—Liam, Frederic, Duncan, and Gustav—would always stand firmly on the right side of the law. First they saved their kingdoms from a vengeful witch, and then they stormed a castle to snatch a dangerously powerful magic item out of the hands of the Bandit King. These princes are definitely good guys.
And yet, in this book, they become outlaws. In fact, it was only a few months after the aforementioned castle storming that the entire League found their faces on Wanted posters all across the Thirteen Kingdoms.
Before you start crying “Spoiler!” let me point out that you would have found out about the whole Wanted poster thing in Chapter 4 anyway. And seriously, the title of the book kind of gives it away, doesn’t it? If I wanted to give you a real spoiler, I would have mentioned the fiasco that occurs in Chapter 16—Frederic struggling for air beneath pounding ocean waves, Gustav struggling to pry open the powerful jaws of a sea serpent, Liam struggling to locate his friends amid the bobbing wreckage of their ship, and Duncan struggling to remove his head from a bucket of chum.
But let’s not get distracted. Because that whole shipwreck nightmare never would have happened if the Princes Charming hadn’t managed to get themselves branded as outlaws. And that would never have happened if they’d actually managed to succeed in their mission when they stormed the Bandit King’s castle. But, no, they’d walked away from that mission without even realizing they’d failed. Come, let’s go back to Prince Frederic’s kingdom of Harmonia, and I’ll show you what I mean.
PART I
ON THE RUN
1
AN OUTLAW IS NEVER AROUND WHEN YOU NEED ONE
“Harrumph.”
King Wilberforce was in a foul mood, as he had been ever since Prince Frederic had stormed out of the palace months earlier. His son had never lashed out at him like that before. And to think it was simply because he had banished his son’s fiancée. What choice did he have? Ella was a bad influence. He couldn’t even keep track of how many times she had nearly gotten Frederic killed. Exiling the girl was what any good father would have done.
At least that’s what Wilberforce told himself as he sat on his velvet-cushioned throne grumbling in a positively unkingly manner. Apparently forgetting his rule that “a proper man never fidgets,” he absentmindedly fiddled with the dozens of glistening medals that adorned his finely tailored purple jacket. His normally stiff, right-angled shoulders began to dip into a position that came dangerously close to resembling a slump.
“Harrumph,” the king grunted again.
“Your Highness?” asked the tall, thin, well-mannered man standing before the throne. “I mean no disrespect, but I feel the need to remind you that I am . . . here. Unless, of course, you summoned me only so that you would have someone at whom you could grunt. In which case, by all means, Your Highness—grunt away.”
“I don’t understand the boy,” Wilberforce said, half mumbling. “You’re his valet, Reginald. You know him better than anyone. Why would he go? What’s wrong with him?”
“Perhaps part of the problem, Your Highness, is that you refer to him as ‘the boy,’” Reginald said. “Frederic is a grown man.”
“Who acts like a boy,” the king responded. “Why would he feel a need to go off in search of adventure?” He snarled the word as if it were a curse. Before Reginald could respond, the king rambled on. “Do I not provide enough entertainment here at the palace? We hold royal balls every other week. Banquets! Bard concerts! Frederic never even stopped by the royal art gallery to see the new series of cat portraits I commissioned for him. One of them shows a kitten in a hammock; Frederic loves that sort of thing.”
“Perhaps, sire,” Reginald finally interjected, “the prince was looking for more of a challenge.”
“Challenge?” The king pshawed. “As if that boy could handle a challenge. He’s got no backbone, no determination, no drive. Why, I gave him a custom-made backgammon set last year. After one try, he whined that it was too hard to play.”
“To be fair, Your Highness, I believe his difficulty with the game was due to the round dice you forced him to use. They never stopped rolling.”
Wilberforce arched an eyebrow. “You expected me to give my son those pointy-edged, cube-style dice? He’d lose an eye.”
“Well, if you are going to be such a
stickler for safety, why not give him dice the size of honeydews,” Reginald said dryly. While he technically served the king, his loyalty lay with the prince he’d practically raised from birth. “After all, regular-size dice are a dangerous choking hazard.”
“You’re being cheeky with me, aren’t you, Reginald?”
“Cheeky, sire?” the valet replied.
“You’re giving me cheek. Sass. Cheeky sass.”
“I would never dream of it, Your Highness. Look at all those medals on your chest: Best Posture, Team Solitaire Champion, Silkiest Mustache. I have nothing but the utmost respect for a monarch with so many . . . amazing accomplishments to his credit.”
“Cheek!” Wilberforce bellowed. “Cheeeeeek!” He stood and pointed toward the exit, his arm as stiff as a road sign. “I want you out, Reginald. Leave at once.”
“The room?” Reginald asked. “Or the palace?”
“Think bigger,” the king sneered.
“The kingdom then. As you wish.” Reginald bowed his head. “Someday I hope you realize that just because your wife died as an adventurer doesn’t mean your son will, too. You need to let Frederic make his own choices. Otherwise you will only drive him further away.” He turned and walked out.
Wilberforce leaned forward in his throne. “If you find Frederic out there . . .” But Reginald was already gone. The king slouched back in his seat and added—to no one—“Take care of him.”
He unpinned one of the medals from his jacket and took a look at it. WINNER: CRUSTIEST LOAF, HARMONIAN BAKE FAIR. He tossed the award angrily to the floor and went back to brooding. Sometime later, the door opened and Wilberforce quickly straightened up as an attendant stepped in.
“Sorry to disturb you, Your Highness,” the attendant said. “But there’s someone here to see you.”
Frederic! Wilberforce thought. He’s come home. “Send him in. Right away.”
“Your visitor? Um, he’s got some friends with him,” the attendant began.
“Yes, of course, I should have figured he’d still be traveling with those ne’er-do-wells,” the king said hurriedly. “But we’ll deal with them later. Just get the boy in here.”
“Boy? But—”
“Go! Let him in!”
The attendant scrambled from the throne room. Wilberforce worked his face into a welcoming smile, almost trembling as he waited. But a moment later, he frowned and cocked a quizzical eyebrow as his visitor entered the chamber. It was not Frederic. It was a tall, broad-shouldered, scar-faced man with some sort of monstrous skull sitting on his head like a helmet. And he had ten more equally questionable characters standing behind him, all brandishing nicked, battle-worn swords.
King Wilberforce shrank back. “Who . . . who are you?” he whispered.
“I am Rundark, Warlord of Dar and ruler of New Dar,” said the stranger. His thick, braided beard rattled against his armored chest as he spoke. “And I am here to make an offer to the king of Harmonia.”
Now, if Frederic had been there, he certainly would have warned his father about Lord Rundark, the vicious and brutal dictator who had nearly destroyed the League of Princes that past summer. Frederic could have told his father about the Jeopardous Jade Djinn Gem, the mystical artifact that gave Rundark the power to control people like human puppets. He might even have mentioned how Rundark—and the Gem along with him—were supposed to have been swallowed by a school of hungry bladejaw eels. But at that moment, when Frederic could have been very, very helpful to his father, he was many miles away, passing out at the sight of a hobgoblin with a splinter in its toe.
2
AN OUTLAW FAINTS AT THE SIGHT OF BLOOD
Frederic wasn’t always helpless. Sure, he’d grown up in a palace with spill-proof goblets, padded bathtubs, and servants who wiped his nose for him; but those days were long behind him. Well, okay, a few months behind him. But in that time, Frederic had changed. He was now a man who had battled witches, negotiated with giants, and escaped from dungeons. He had proven he could be brave—when he had an ally or three at his side, that is. Working solo was still a challenge for him. And sadly, there was not a friend in sight when the hobgoblin lifted its crusty foot and wiggled its fat, infected toe in his face.
As Frederic’s head hit the dirt and consciousness slowly faded away, his mind replayed the events of the previous three months, the pitiful chain of events that had brought him to this point.
It all began when Frederic walked out on his father. He marched out through his palace’s arched marble gateway, his head a dizzying swirl of emotions—shame at having let Ella get banished, pride at having finally stood up to his father, anxiety over the prospect of leaving his royal comforts behind forever. But he had a plan: Go see Rapunzel. The long-haired healer from Sturmhagen had an easygoing warmth that made Frederic feel calm and comfortable whenever he saw her. She got his jokes, she made the best turnip soup he’d ever tasted, and she’d saved his life twice. Just thinking of Rapunzel made Frederic feel like everything was going to be all right.
Unfortunately, seeing her didn’t have quite the same effect. When Frederic finally reached Rapunzel’s cottage in the deep woods of Sturmhagen, he noticed that she was not alone. Through her kitchen window, he spotted the familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette of his friend Prince Gustav. I shouldn’t be surprised, Frederic thought. Gustav was her Prince Charming, after all.
“Good for him,” Frederic said aloud, trying to convince himself he really felt that way. He turned his horse around, trotted back into the forest, and began . . . wandering.
He spent several days on the shores of Lake Dräng with Reese the giant—but he didn’t like the way Reese’s colossal mother, Maude, licked her lips when she looked at him, so he decided to move on. He got a warm welcome at Troll Place, but the “bed” that Mr. Troll constructed for him—a splintery piece of wood precariously balanced between two jagged rocks—didn’t even come close to his comfort standards; so he politely told his host that he had an important appointment elsewhere. He tried Duncan and Snow White’s estate in Sylvaria, but learned from the dwarfs that the couple had moved out.
“I suppose you’d like to know where they went,” Frank the dwarf said, somehow making it sound like an insult.
“Yes, I would,” Frederic replied.
“Just what I thought,” Frank grumbled. And he walked away.
Frederic had no doubt that if he showed up on the doorsteps of Avondell Palace, Liam would offer him a room. But Liam’s wife would be there, also—and Briar Rose was not a person with whom Frederic cherished the thought of being roomies.
After thirteen weeks on the road, and with nowhere else to go, Frederic headed back to Harmonia. He arrived outside the palace at twilight but couldn’t bring himself to actually reenter the gates. Instead, he led his horse, Gwendolyn, a few yards away, where he laid out a blanket and sat down against the palace’s wrought iron fence, gently caressing the gold-braid tassels that hung from the shoulder pads of his baby-blue suit. Eventually his eyelids drooped. But before he got a chance to dream about warm peach tarts and cardamom ice cream, he was awakened by a strange blue light mere inches from his face.
“Fairy!” he shrieked, before jumping to his feet and attempting—fruitlessly—to climb the fence.
“Wrong thing! Wrong thing!” he heard a twinkly voice call as he slid down the iron bars and landed gracelessly on the grass. He turned around and got a better look at the creature that had terrified him—a tiny woman, bathed in bluish light, hovering three feet off the ground. Frederic began to breathe a little easier.
“I, uh . . . I don’t know if you were trying to tell me that I was doing the wrong thing or that I had called you the wrong thing,” Frederic said softly, “but in either case, I think the latter is true. You’re not a fairy, are you?”
The little blue woman smiled, her silvery antennae twitching. “Wrong thing. Wrongety-wrong.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you’re a sprite,” Frederic said, remembering Rapunze
l’s description of her otherworldly helpers.
“Right thing!” the sprite squealed, and she flew loops in the air.
Frederic grinned. “Sorry about my initial reaction,” he said, his cheeks reddening. “I’ve never actually met a sprite before. I thought you might be a fairy, and fairies make me nervous. Not that I’ve ever met a fairy either. But my friend Liam had a run-in with a very nasty one. You know the Sleeping Beauty story? Anyway . . . pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Prince Frederic.” He bowed.
“Of coursety you’s Frederic,” the sprite said with a giggle that sounded like sleigh bells. “Frederic is skinny like candy cane. Frederic wears clothes with golden spaghettis. Frederic never touchety dirt. You’s Frederic. Just like Zel say.”
Frederic frowned. “Is that really how Rapunzel described me?” Then he perked up. “No, wait. That doesn’t matter! Rapunzel described me! She sent you to find me?”
“Right thing!” The sprite mimicked his bow, hovering in midair. “Blink,” she said.
“Blink?”
“Blink!”
“Um, okay.” Frederic blinked his eyes.
The sprite shook her head and chuckled. She pointed to herself. “This is Blink.”
“Ah, your name is Blink. Well, Miss Blink, why did Rapunzel send you to me?”
“Zel needs helpety-help. Too many forest peoples been hurt lately. Zel said you help. Comety-come.”
“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” Frederic said. “I mean, I’ll go, of course. But I’m not exactly a skilled medic. And seeing as Rapunzel has magical healing tears anyway, I just wonder—”
“Comety-come!” Blink squeaked loudly.
“Right away!” Frederic sputtered as he folded his blanket and placed it neatly in Gwendolyn’s saddlebag. “Uh, Miss Blink? You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s another man, um . . . helping Rapunzel already? A very large man? With long, blond hair and questionable hygiene?”
“You not understand ‘comety-come’?”
Frederic hopped on his horse and followed the sprite all the way back to the cottage in Sturmhagen. He was relieved to see that Gustav was not present. Rapunzel, however, was not there either.