CHAPTER THREE THE PRINCESS AND THE PLEA
The village is so pretty, it should be on a postcard or a billboard advertising trips to Never After. (COME FOR THE MAGIC! STAY FOR THE GREEN VISTAS!) Filomena can’t believe her eyes as they walk around; it’s like a town right out of a medieval British folktale! (She does read books outside the Never After series, you know.)
Gretel feels the same and claps her hands with glee as they walk the charming village streets. “Oh, this town is so darling! Don’t you think, Filomena?”
“It’s very cute. It reminds me of a story, though I can’t think which one.”
“When you read so many, it must be hard to keep them all straight,” Jack teases.
“Don’t worry, the Never After books are still my favorites. Turns out the characters in them are pretty fun to hang out with,” Filomena says, bumping Alistair’s arm. Her eyes catch Jack’s. He smiles back, and she feels that delicious tingly feeling once more.
The buildings in the town are lovely low houses and storefronts on cobblestone roads. From the windows, golden candles cast a warm glow onto the streets.
“Yeah, sure, it’s cute all right, but you know what would be really cute? A huge plate of steaming hot food and a big comfy bed with a hundred pillows,” says Alistair.
It’s true that they haven’t eaten in a long time now, and if they’ve learned anything from their travels together, it’s that finding yourself on the road and without shelter at night is a recipe for a sticky situation. (We’re looking at you, Rory Hexson, witch’s son!)
“It looks like there’s a pub right up there. Do you think we can get in?” Filomena says.
“Why wouldn’t we be able to go in?” Jack responds.
“Aren’t pubs like bars? Don’t they ID at the door?”
“What is this eye dee you speak of?” Alistair asks. “They check our eyes for something?”
“Oh right. Sometimes I forget that the rules of the mortal world don’t apply here,” Filomena says, slapping her palm to her forehead. “I guess being underage doesn’t really matter when you’re immortal.”
“I suppose that’s true,” says Jack. “It’ll be a useful place to rest, anyhow, and there are probably rooms for rent upstairs. Good idea, Filomena.”
The four friends take seats at a long wooden table inside the Merry Greenwood Tavern. Jack sits next to Filomena, and Gretel and Alistair sit across from them. The tavern is spilling with life: Rowdy locals are laughing and toasting with bubbling jugs of drink, and a band plays a fiddle and a lute in the corner. A group of well-dressed foxes and bears dance to the beat, and a bunch of pretty maidens with flowing jewel-tone dresses sit together at a table, chatting.
“I need to ask where those girls got such fabulous frocks,” Gretel says, looking over at the maidens. “Maybe we can stop tomorrow for some shopping?”
She looks hopefully at Jack, but a white rabbit wearing a waistcoat and a timepiece and holding a pen and paper hops up onto their table before Jack can respond. Filomena stifles a gasp. She supposes a rabbit waiter is not the strangest thing she’s seen since stepping foot in Never After—not by far. Foxes and bears are dancing over by the band, after all. But isn’t this the famous White Rabbit of Wonderland?
“Welcome, weary travelers!” the White Rabbit says in a thick Cockney accent. “What nosh can I get for you this evening?”
“No chance you have cheeseburgers and fries, is there?” Alistair asks hopefully.
“Can’t say I know what that is, son, but I do have bangers and mash. Maybe that’ll tickle yer fancy?”
Alistair nods, resigned.
“Lasses? Lad?” the White Rabbit asks, turning to the rest. “Same?”
“Sure…,” says Filomena. “But aren’t you late for something?”
“Late?” The White Rabbit blinks and checks his timepiece.
“Don’t you work for the Queen of Hearts?” she persists.
The White Rabbit chuckles. “Oh yes, yes. A long time ago, lass. But when my cookbook The White Rabbit Entertains! went to the top of the bestseller lists, I was able to open my dream pub.” The White Rabbit proudly looks around at his establishment. “How is the Queen of Hearts these days?”
“Restored” is all Filomena says with a smile.
“Tip-top,” says the White Rabbit, who hops away to put in their order.
“Does anyone know what bangers and mash is?” Gretel asks with her nose wrinkled. “The White Rabbit might be a celebrity chef now, but he could at least give us a menu! If bangers and mash is anything like kidney pie or liver with onions, I’m so out.”
Jack is shaking his head, food the furthest thing from his mind.
“You’re still thinking about the robbery?” Filomena leans in to ask. Gretel and Alistair continue debating the topic of dishes they are least likely to eat.
Jack nods. “I just don’t get what happened. Normally I can take on twenty highway thieves! I’ve done it before, even without a Dragon’s Tooth sword. I don’t understand how they got everything from us so easily.”
“We weren’t prepared for them. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jack.”
“It’s not that I’m being hard on myself. I’m always able to fend people off. If I can’t protect us against a bunch of kids, something else is afoot. They must be more than they appear. And who was that guy? He almost seems familiar.” Jack frowns, thinking.
Filomena considers this. At first she thinks Jack is still just being too hard on himself, but it did seem odd that Jack the Giant Stalker, the prince who slayed the ogre king, could be so easily hoodwinked by a bunch of teenage ruffians.
“He said something when he left,” she says. “Remember? He said it was nice to see us again. What was that about? We’ve never met him before, have we?”
Just then the White Rabbit comes back carrying a tray of frothy hot drinks. “Courtesy of the young lady at the next table,” the White Rabbit says, motioning to the group of pretty maidens.
“Hot cocoa! No way!” Alistair takes a mug gleefully. “Do you guys think the girls over there have a crush on me?”
Filomena looks over at the girls, puzzled. She turns back to her friends and wrinkles her nose. “Well, I don’t know why they wouldn’t, Alistair, but maybe we should be careful before drinking these. You remember what happened the last time we took something sweet from a stranger?”
Gretel shivers, remembering the days they spent in sugar-fueled fugue states. “Can we please stop bringing up the gingerbread house? I’m really trying not to relive that in my dreams.”
One of the maidens walks over to their table. She’s a beautiful Black girl with a crown of curly dark hair. She looks to be about sixteen years old and wears a red velvet dress with golden lace cuffs and collar.
“Do you not care for hot cocoa?” she asks the table. “I thought that was a safe choice; I thought everyone likes hot cocoa. I can get you some mulled wine if you prefer.”
“Oh no, we love hot cocoa! We were just wondering why it was sent over is all, and we hadn’t gotten to drinking it yet,” Filomena responds.
“Of course! How rude of me to proceed without introductions!” The maiden giggles. “I’m Princess Jeanne. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances.”
The princess holds a hand in front of Jack for him to kiss, which makes him redden profusely. He looks to Filomena as if to say help, and she just shrugs. But the princess isn’t discouraged and waits for Jack to take her hand. He kisses it sheepishly.
“Pleased to meet you, Princess Jeanne,” he says.
Filomena ignores the pinprick of jealousy that blooms in her stomach. He’s just being polite, after all.
“May I join you?” the princess asks, still looking at Jack.
“Yeah, sit down!” Gretel cuts in. “I was actually dying to ask about your dress…”
“Oh, this old thing? It’s so out of style now, I know, please don’t think any less of me! The locals can just get quite rowdy around the tavern, spilling and such, so I don’t like to wear my good gowns here. You know how it is.”
Gretel looks dejected, so Filomena gives her hand a squeeze under the table and mouths I think it’s very cute.
Alistair’s looking a little dejected, too, come to think of it. Princess Jeanne didn’t ask him to kiss her hand. Wearing a hot-cocoa mustache, he asks a reasonable question: “If you’re really a princess, where’s your crown?”
“Well, Alistair, that’s actually very pertinent to why I wanted to speak with you all.”
The four trade glances. Filomena gets that feeling again: The plot is about to thicken.
“Wait,” Alistair says, frowning, “how do you know my name?”
Princess Jeanne laughs, and it’s a sweet melodious sound. Despite her suspicions, Filomena starts to warm to the girl. Besides, it’s obvious Jeanne’s way too old for Jack, who’s only thirteen.
“Why, I know all your names! Dashing Jack the Giant Stalker, fashionista extraordinaire Miss Gretel, and of course the brilliant Filomena, or should I say Eliana? What name do you go by these days?”
“Filomena’s fine,” Filomena says, slightly confused now.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Alistair butts in. “Don’t I get a descriptor?”
“Of course, Alistair the Adorable,” Princess Jeanne says, tapping Alistair on the nose with her pointer finger. “You four have been splashed all over the pages of my favorite magazines. Every time I go to get my nails glittered by the sprites, I always read the Palace Inquirer and the Daily Crown.”
Gretel perks up. “Hold on, are we famous?”
“Well, it takes more than one feature in the Palace Inquirer to be truly famous—and I should know—but you certainly got a lot of coverage during Hortense’s and Beatrice’s weddings. A gorgeous ceremony, by the way! So lovely, I can almost forgive the fact that I wasn’t invited,” she says, pouting coyly. “But anyway, that’s not what I’m here to talk about. I need help. And after reading about you, I think you lot are the ones I need.”
The four friends look at one another. More people to help? This is the last thing they need right now. Don’t they themselves need help? And aren’t they on the way to help Zera?
“Plus I just overheard your little conversation about getting robbed? I think I know exactly who was behind it,” Jeanne says.
Okay, now they’re interested.
“Go on,” Jack says.
“Okay. First let me back up a little. Does the name King Richard mean anything to you?” Princess Jeanne asks.
Filomena’s drawing a blank, once again cursing the fact that she doesn’t have her Never After books on hand. Gretel shrugs. But Jack and Alistair look at each other with an air of dread.
“Yes, it does,” Jack responds.
Princess Jeanne can see that Filomena and Gretel are lost here, so she explains. “King Richard is my uncle,” she tells them.
Jack’s face has gone stony, cold, closed up. Filomena can sense that any interest he had toward getting to know Princess Jeanne and whatever she wants has vanished. That name clearly means something to him, and it’s not good.
He coughs. “We know of King Richard. At least, Alistair and I do.”
Princess Jeanne nods. “Then you know he’s caused a lot of harm in Never After, especially here, up north. He’s notorious for forcibly wiping out villages, sending all the creatures who live there away from their homes and their communities, so they’re left with nowhere to go. All just so he can clear the land and build his own properties there.”
“He targets some of the most beautiful villages in Never After,” Alistair explains to Filomena and Gretel. “Especially ones near the sea or on lakeshores. He conquers them for his own greed. The oldest and loveliest villages in the kingdoms, those that used to thrive under the protection of the fairies. But since the fairies are gone, there’s no one to stand up to him and his army. He just builds castles for himself and his friends, castles that sit empty most of the time.”
Filomena is shocked. How awful! Running people out of their homes? Just to build empty showpalaces? “How can he do that? That’s horrible! Hasn’t anyone stopped him?”
“We’ve tried,” Jack says, still stone-faced. “But since the Last Battle, all of Never After is either controlled by ogres or falling to despots like him.”
“Right. I’m relieved you know how truly horrible he is. Some in the North have rallied to his cause. But here’s the thing: King Richard isn’t even technically a king. He just took the title and makes everyone call him that. I’m the rightful heir to the throne.”
“So you’re not aligned with your uncle?” Jack asks, skeptical.
“Not at all! I don’t stand for anything he’s done. He’s reprehensible. Not to mention he’s sabotaging me!” Jeanne’s getting quite agitated and takes a deep breath before continuing. “That’s what I need to talk to you about. Our kingdom does not recognize its true ruler until that person is crowned with the ancient crown of the North. You asked where my crown is. Uncle Richard stole it. He knows I can’t be the true queen without it. But while I’m alive, he can’t declare himself king, either.”
Alistair’s eyes widen at this.
“It’s only a matter of time before he tries to get rid of me. Right now he’s content styling himself as King Richard the Lionhearted even though his heart is smaller than a kitten’s. More like Richard the Mouse King. But one day he will place that crown on his head.”
“So what are you going to do about it?” asks Gretel.
“Steal it back, of course,” Princess Jeanne replies. “Here’s where you all come in. For better or worse, I know my uncle, and I know he doesn’t do his own dirty work. I have reason to believe that the person who stole the crown from my castle is the same sneaky black-haired boy who stole from you today. None other than Robin Hood.”
“Robin Hood?” Filomena’s ears perk up in recognition. Could it be the same Robin Hood she read about in the mortal world?
Princess Jeanne clucks her tongue. “Horrible chap! He’s been terrorizing our kingdom and the surrounding villages for years. He’s unbelievably tricky, stealing from the poor and making himself rich.”
Filomena frowns. “But wait—in the stories I know, Robin Hood steals from the rich and gives to the poor.” In the traditional fairy tales, that is. “He’s a hero.”
“Filomena,” Gretel says, “remember how the mortal world’s story of Cinderella has no mention of Cinderella being a spoiled ogre? It seems like this might be another case of the wrong story spreading across the portal border.”
“He’s no hero! He is nothing but a thief!” Princess Jeanne says hotly. “He’s stealing from the poor to make himself rich, just like he stole from you.”
“Hey, who you callin’ poor?” Alistair says, crossing his arms.
“Well, no offense, darling, but have you looked at your outfit recently?” Princess Jeanne says, giving Alistair a sympathetic smile. “Gretel’s got it going on, though.”
Gretel smiles, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I do know how to do beauty on a budget!”
Still, Filomena isn’t totally convinced by Princess Jeanne yet, and the princess can clearly sense it.
“I know we just met, but trust me, I’m on your side. I’m in trouble, and so is my kingdom, but most pressingly, so is my friend. He went to steal the crown back for me, but he hasn’t been seen since he left. I’m really worried about him. That’s mainly why I’m coming to you for help.” Princess Jeanne looks so forlorn that the four friends immediately feel sorry for her. She takes a huge breath and regains her composure. She drums her fingers on the table. “That guy who stole from you—black hair, annoyingly handsome, and so slippery that you couldn’t seem to get a hold of him, right?”
“So handsome,” Filomena agrees. Wait, did she just agree that Robin Hood was handsome? In front of Jack? Did he notice? Is that why he’s looking at her and frowning? “I mean, um, if bad boys are your type, which, um, they’re not mine!” she quickly adds.
“Like I was saying, the thief who stole your belongings is the same thief who stole my crown and who’s possibly holding my friend hostage: Robin Hood!” Princess Jeanne declares. “It’s him. I know it. We have history. Uncle Richard is behind all this, but Robin Hood is his henchman. And I need you to help rescue my dear friend, Sharif of Nottingham, from his clutches.”
“You mean the sheriff of Nottingham?” asks Filomena, who is a stickler for grammar. She’s read about him, too. He’s the mean old sheriff who rips off the townspeople, isn’t he? Seems like a strange fit for a friend of Princess Jeanne’s, but stranger things have happened in Never After.
But now it’s Jeanne who looks confused. “The sheriff of Nottingham? I don’t understand. Although his name is Sharif and he is from Nottingham. Lord Sharif of Nottingham, to be precise.”
“Oh,” says Filomena. She notices Jack’s brows furrow at the mention of that name. Does Jack know everyone in Never After? The guy does get around.
“Did you say Sharif?” Jack asks. “Goes by Riff?”
“Exactly!” Princess Jeanne says brightly. “Do you know him?”
Alistair guffaws with surprise. “We do! We fought with him in the Last Battle!” he cries happily.
Jack’s face softens. “Riff was one of our best soldiers. He served in our battalion with Byron Bessley.”
“Splendid! Well, what do you say, then? Will you help me rescue him?” Princess Jeanne asks. “I know he went into Sherwood Forest to help get my crown back, and I couldn’t stand it if he’s come to any harm because of me!”
The group confers silently, exchanging glances, but of course there’s only one answer. Filomena didn’t need to read all twelve Never After books to know that heroes like Jack and Alistair don’t disappoint innocent strangers who ask for their help. And since she and Gretel are part of the team, too, she knows how they’ll respond.
“Of course we’ll help,” says Alistair. “Right, Jack?”
“There’s Zera to consider,” Jack replies thoughtfully. “We were on our way to Snow Country.”
“Zera’s a powerful fairy. She can hold her own for a while yet,” says Alistair, and at once Filomena sees the brave sergeant at arms that Alistair used to be and not just her goofy, cheeseburger-obsessed friend. “Riff and Princess Jeanne need us now.”
“And we can’t go to Snow Country without getting our stuff back,” reminds Gretel. “We need our Dragon’s Tooth swords and our armor.”
“She’s got a point,” Filomena murmurs, even as her heart starts to beat rapidly at the thought of the rescue mission.
“So you’ll do it?” asks Princess Jeanne.
“Yes,” says Filomena.
“Definitely,” says Alistair.
“I don’t see how we can say no,” adds Gretel.
“We’ll go at once,” says Jack.
“Oh, thank goodness!” says Princess Jeanne, clapping her hands in relief. “Thank you, thank you!”
“But first we’ve got to eat,” says Alistair just as the White Rabbit returns to the table and sets down four plates of bangers and mash.
“No, no, this simply won’t do,” Princess Jeanne says, shaking her head at the sight of their supper. “You need better sustenance than this. Dearest White Rabbit, can we please have a large shepherd’s pie, three beef Wellingtons to share, and a full Sunday roast with extra gravy? With all the vegetables from the garden? I know it isn’t Sunday, but for me?” She bats her lashes. “Put it on my tab.”
The four friends are practically drooling at the sound of the order. They haven’t eaten like that since the royal wedding feast.
Alistair laughs. “It’s sure helpful to have a princess’s budget when you have a princess’s palate!”
“As far as princesses go, you’re far better than Cinderella in my books,” Gretel agrees.
“Not all princesses are alike, you know!” Princess Jeanne says, dipping her finger into the whipped cream on Jack’s hot chocolate. “Don’t judge a girl by her crown! Or, in my case, by the lack thereof.”