“Vacation? Where?”

      “Outside the kingdom. Everybody in Erinthia seems pretty steamed at you right now. So, go someplace where the people only know you from the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ story.”

      “Ha! That story. No one outside of Erinthia even realizes I’m the hero in that story—it doesn’t mention my name!”

      “That’s exactly what I mean,” Lila said. “You can just be Prince Charming for a while. Everybody loves Prince Charming. Go bask in that glory for a while.”

      “What glory? Prince Charming isn’t a hero,” Liam groused. “The only thing anybody thinks Prince Charming ever did is kiss a girl and wake her up. I deserve credit for a lot more than that.”

      “Better to be loved for something lame than to be hated for no good reason, right?” Lila said.

      Liam contemplated his sister’s advice. Lila was just a kid, but she was crafty. She’d gotten herself into—and out of—all sorts of scrapes in the past. And there was definitely a logic to her plan. Liam’s thought process was interrupted by a sudden bang as a roasted turkey crashed through the door, sending shards of glass and loose stuffing across the embroidered carpet.

      “Someone out there has a very strong arm,” Liam said.

      His sister pushed him toward a stairwell that led down to the palace cellars, and the two shared a quick embrace. “People will love you again, don’t worry,” she said. “Now, sneak out through the cook’s delivery entrance. I need to go rescue our greedy parents.”

      She left Liam on the top step and rushed back toward the balcony.

      “Thank you, sis,” Liam called. As he started down the stairs, he heard the princess yelling at the crowd of rioters outside: “All right, who threw the bird?”

      Liam quietly sneaked through the cellars and into the royal stables. Since nearly everyone in the kingdom was out front by the balcony, there were no grooms or stable boys around to see him hop up onto his black stallion and take off through the palace yard’s back gates.

      Liam headed toward the kingdom of Sylvaria. It was far enough away that the people there wouldn’t recognize him, and it was unpopular enough (thanks to its notably eccentric ruling family) that no one was likely to go there looking for him. Unfortunately, in order to get to Sylvaria, he had to pass through Avondell, where he was greeted with taunts, jeers, and an overripe cantaloupe that splattered open on the side of his head. He assumed Briar Rose was somehow responsible for everybody hating him. And he was right. You see, Sleeping Beauty was, as Liam put it, mean. She was accustomed to getting her way—even more so than most royal children. And for that, you can blame her upbringing.

      Shortly after Briar Rose was born, her parents held a party and invited a bunch of fairies (at the time, people judged how successful a party was by the number of fairies that showed up). But the royal couple forgot to invite one very evil—and very easily insulted—fairy. As payback for being snubbed, that evil fairy threatened to put a curse on the baby. The fairy couldn’t curse Briar, however, if she couldn’t find her. So the king and queen kept their daughter hidden away in a magically protected safe house with a personal staff that catered to her every whim. To say that Briar was spoiled would be putting it mildly. In order to make sure the girl never wanted to leave the safe house, her servants did anything she wanted. Anything.

      When Briar Rose said she wanted to ride an elephant, for instance, members of her staff trekked across mountainous miles of wilderness to seek one out. And when they failed to locate an elephant, one poor butler was forced to paint himself gray, overeat for a month, glue a long stocking to his nose, and let the girl climb on his back. Briar wasn’t stupid; she knew the man wasn’t an elephant. But the notion that she could make people do such humiliating things was far more entertaining to her than riding a real elephant would have been.

      Since people generally tripped over themselves to please her, you can imagine Briar’s shock and consternation when Liam became the first person to ever say no to her. She was infuriated by her fiancé’s abrupt cancellation of their wedding and decided to get revenge by informing her people of how the “rude and ruthless” Prince Liam had heartlessly dumped her.

      With Avondell’s bard—Reynaldo, Duke of Rhyme—missing in action for weeks, the kingdom’s minstrels were restless and eager for new material. So Briar Rose called them all together and gave them a juicy new story to spread. According to Briar’s version of events, Liam had stormed into her palace ranting like a lunatic about the horrible taste he’d had on his lips ever since he’d kissed her. He informed her that he could never live in Avondell, since all Avondellians smelled of old potatoes. Then he spit in her milk glass, tore her portrait off the wall, and stomped on her servants’ toes on his way out.

      “That’s great stuff, Your Highness,” said one minstrel. “But not exactly a song. More like just a rant.”

      “So don’t sing it, rant it,” Briar said. “The people want news; this is what you’re going to give them.”

      And that’s just what happened. Once that story was out, the citizens of Avondell had no intention of giving Liam a chance to explain himself. Instead they just hurled insults—and food—as he rode by.

      “You’d all still be asleep if it weren’t for me,” Liam griped as a handful of grapes bounced off his face.

      “You’re despicable,” a woman yelled at him.

      “Villain,” hissed another.