CHAPTER 1
Prince Carlos Charles Charming was trapped inside a box he couldn’t see.
He pressed his palms against one of the box’s invisible walls. It was as solid as a rock. The other walls were solid, too. He pounded his fist against the top of the box, then rammed his shoulder against it. But nothing budged.
Jack the Jester sat crisscross applesauce on the floor a few feet away. He watched Carlos struggle.
“You’re stuck now, young’un!” Jack said. A smirk stretched across his brown, wrinkled cheeks. “How does that make you feel?”
Carlos’s eyes went wide with panic. He continued to search and struggle against every inch of the invisible box. Maybe he could find a weakness. There had to be a weakness.
Jack’s smile grew wider. “Let’s see how you handle yourself when those walls start closing in.”
As if the box could hear Jack’s words, the walls began to push in on all sides. Carlos was forced into a crouch. He shoved and elbowed and punched and kicked, but the walls kept pressing in, closer and closer.
Carlos scrunched his body into a tight, uncomfortable ball. His eyes squinted shut.
He used his last ounce of strength to take a deep breath. He opened his mouth as wide as it could go and let out an anguished scream.
But no sound came out. Not a scream, not a whimper, not a peep. Nothing!
Jack leapt to his feet. The old jester clapped wildly.
“Wow! What a performance!” he exclaimed.
Carlos smiled. Then he stood up. He was no longer in the invisible box. Because there was no invisible box. It was all just an act.
“I was good?” Carlos asked.
“Good?!” Jack exclaimed. “Are you kidding me? I think you were a mime in a past life! You were so good, I was ready to rescue you from a box that wasn’t even there!”
“Thanks, Jack.” Carlos beamed.
“Don’t thank me,” Jack said. “Thank you for making my teaching job so much fun.” Jack scratched his gray-whiskered chin. “Dang. I think you mimed just about everything today. Let’s see.… You got crushed inside an imaginary box.…”
“I pulled on an imaginary rope…,” Carlos said.
“You leaned on an imaginary countertop…,” Jack said.
“I juggled imaginary torches…,” Carlos said.
“And you burned yourself on those imaginary torches,” Jack said. “That was a nice detail.”
“And I rode an imaginary unicycle while ironing an imaginary pair of polyester pants while eating an imaginary taco salad,” Carlos said.
“I’m still not sure how you pulled that one off,” Jack said. “You’ve got this mime thing down, young’un. You’ve got this down.”
“Thanks!” Carlos’s happy gaze flickered to the far wall of the Fancy Castle ballroom. The ticking grandfather clock read 4:30 P.M.
“Holy schmoley!” Carlos exclaimed. “My jester lesson went two hours longer than usual!”
“Is that a problem?” Jack asked with a cheery glint in his eye.
“Of course not!” Carlos replied. “I’d do jester lessons forever if Mom and Dad let me.”
Jestering was Carlos’s passion, but he also had a day job. Carlos was prince of the happy and peaceful land of Faraway Kingdom. His mom and dad, Queen Cora and King Carmine, were the kingdom’s rulers.
Queen Cora and King Carmine were wonderful and fair rulers. They were also wonderful and fair parents—but no parent is perfect. The king and queen often interrupted Carlos’s jester lessons to make him do his princely chores.
Oh, how Carlos hated princely chores.
But not today! For the first time in forever, the king and queen had let Carlos jester the entire afternoon away. Because he’d had more time than usual to practice his jestering, Carlos had been able to mime anything and everything.
“Holy schmoley,” Carlos said again. “This is turning out to be a really good day.”
Carlos practically skipped down the long hallway of Fancy Castle. His jingle-toed jester shoes jingled merrily.
From the opposite direction, Carlos spotted two people walking toward him. One was tall and lanky. The other was short and round. The tall, lanky person was his dad, King Carmine. The short, round person was his mom, Queen Cora.
Oh, well, Carlos thought with a sigh. All really good days must come to an end. Mom and Dad are going to make me do something princely, like explore the haunted mountains or chase ruthless pirates or cut the ribbon for a new Faraway Kingdom used-horse dealership.
“Hello, my babycakes!” Queen Cora chirped, wearing a huge smile on her glowing, tan face. (The queen always wore a huge smile on her glowing, tan face.) She stretched out her arms and swept Carlos into a big, strong, squeezy hug. “Are you having a good day, sweetie?” she asked.
“Mumphf-humphf,” Carlos gasped. (It was the best reply he could come up with. The queen’s big, strong, squeezy hugs made it difficult for him to breathe.)
“How was the jester lesson?” asked King Carmine. He wore a smile, too. This was unusual. The king’s many responsibilities often twisted his mouth into a frown. The king was always a kind, loving, and patient father, but he was kind, loving, and patient in a frowny way.
“Mumps a humph a wuhmuh,” Carlos replied. (He was still being hugged.)
King Carmine turned to the queen. “Sweetie, let the boy breathe.”
“Oh, but I love him more than anything!” she sang, making her hug a little tighter than before.
“Gah!” Carlos cried out between gasping gurgles.
“I know how much you love Carlos,” the king said, “but he’s turning blue.”
“Oh! Goodness!” The queen released Carlos from her grasp. “Are you okay, my angel?”
In between wheezes, Carlos nodded.
The king patiently waited for Carlos’s blue skin to fade away. Once it did, the king repeated his question.
“So how was the jester lesson, son?”
“It was great,” Carlos said. “Do you need me for something, Dad?”
“No,” the king replied.
Carlos’s eyes went wide. “No? Really? You don’t need me to do anything princely?”
“No,” the king repeated. “We don’t need anything.”
“Nothing?” Carlos asked. “You guys need nothing at all?”
“Nothing at all!” announced the delighted queen. “You’ve been doing so many excellent princely things lately. Your father and I thought you could use a day off!”
Carlos couldn’t believe his ears. “Really?!”
“Yes! Really!” the queen giggled.
The king’s smile stretched wider across his lined, tan face. “There’s a ribbon cutting for a new Faraway Kingdom used-horse dealership, but your mother and I will take care of that.”
“Oh, how I love ribbon cuttings! The ribbon is always so beautiful!” the queen cried. “Can I do the cutting part?”
“Of course you may,” the king replied.
“Those giant scissors are just so silly! So fun!” the queen said. “Aren’t they silly and fun, Carmine?”
“Yes, I suppose they are,” the king replied. He turned to Carlos. “Enjoy the rest of your day, son.”
Carlos watched in wonder as his parents continued their long walk down the hall.
“Holy schmoley,” Carlos said. “This is turning out to be a great day!”
It was almost dinnertime, and Carlos could feel his stomach twitch and grumble. He decided to pay a visit to the Fancy Castle chef.
The aroma coming from the kitchen was not very inviting. It reminded Carlos of the time he left his sneakers out in the rain.
He poked his head through the kitchen doorway. Inside, the air was as hot and humid as a swamp. At once a trickle of sweat dribbled down Carlos’s back. He squinted through the steamy fog rising from dozens of bubbling pots.
“Chef Auskotzen?” he called out.
A loud voice with a thick German accent called back, “Yah? Who’s zere?”
“It’s me, Carlos!”
“Carlos!” Chef Auskotzen leapt out from behind a copper pot large enough to bathe a hippo. He was a tiny man but solidly built, like a steel barrel full of pickles. He wore a grin that stretched all the way across his red, freckled face. “Hallo, young prince!”
“What’s for supper?” Carlos asked.
“My specialty!” came the chef’s joyous reply. “Toad Surprise!”
“Ew,” Carlos muttered under his breath.
But Carlos’s “ew” was drowned out by another, more emotional “EW!”
This “EW!” was so close to Carlos’s ear—and so dang loud—that it made the young jester stumble sideways into a wall.
Carlos turned his startled gaze to the source of the “EW!”
Standing a few feet away was Smudge, Fancy Castle’s resident dragon.
Dragons do not usually live in castles. But Smudge was not a usual dragon. Most dragons were violent and ferocious. Smudge preferred snuggles and belly rubs. Most dragons used their fiery breath to burn down villages. Smudge used his fiery breath to light chandeliers and toast marshmallows. Most dragons ate villagers. Smudge was on a meatless diet. (Luckily, as Smudge often observed, there’s no meat in ice cream.)
In short, Smudge was a perfect resident dragon. He was the size of a grizzly bear but as happy as a goat on a trampoline.
“Oh, hai, CC!” Smudge exclaimed. “Did I surprise you?”
Carlos peeled himself off the wall. “Yes,” he said. “You really did!”
“YAY!” Smudge flapped his rubbery bat-like wings with glee. “My sneaking booties work!”
Carlos peered down at Smudge’s feet. The dragon was wearing a pair of thick, pink wool slippers.
Smudge giggled. “I knitted these booties to keep my toenails from going clickita-clickita on the floor! So I can be sneaky. I knitted the booties extra, extra thick because my toenails are superduper long.”
That was another thing that made Smudge different from other dragons: He was an accomplished knitter.
Carlos gave Smudge a scratch under his chin. “Those booties sure worked on me.”
“YAY!” Smudge said again.
Then the dragon’s voice suddenly became grumpy. “Today would be the perfect day if we weren’t getting toads for supper.”
“I don’t want to eat toads, either,” Carlos said.
“Toads scare me,” Smudge added.
“They scare you?” Carlos asked.
Smudge nodded, his eyes wide with fright. “Yes! They’re tiny and slimy, and their bref is so cold and damp!”
Carlos thought for a moment. He leaned close to Smudge’s ear. “I know a way to make this day perfect,” he whispered.
“You do?” Smudge whispered back.
“I’ve been hiding desserts in my room for just such an emergency,” Carlos whispered.
“You have?” Smudge whispered back—a little louder this time.
“We can have a supper of cupcakes,” Carlos whispered.
“WE CAN?!” Smudge no longer felt like whispering.
“Yes, we can!” Carlos didn’t feel like whispering, either.
“Ooh, CC! I’m so excited! I gotta go do dragon tinkles!” Smudge hopped up and down—partly because he was excited and partly because he really did have to tinkle. “I’ll go to the potty and then meet you in your room!”
Carlos watched his dragon friend skitter off down the hall.
“Holy schmoley,” Carlos sighed. “This is turning out to be a perfect day.”
Carlos trotted to his room. He’d been smiling for so long that his face was starting to ache.
It was a happy-face ache that Carlos never wanted to end.
But it did.
Quickly.
The happiness ended the moment Carlos pushed open the door to his room.
Standing along the far wall, near an open window, was a skeleton of a man. His gray hair was long and straight, his skin as pale as paper. He was wrapped from shoulder to shinbones in wrinkled black robes.
“Who are you?” Carlos asked sternly. “What are you doing in my room?”
“I am the great and powerful Weatherwax,” the man replied in a high-pitched, raspy voice. “I am a sorcerer for hire. And I am here on a job.”
“A job?” Carlos asked. “What job?”
“My job is to put a curse on you,” Weatherwax replied.
“A curse?” Carlos asked. “On ME?!”
Before Carlos could say another word, he was overwhelmed by a cloud of thick, stinging smoke.
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