So far, the flight to the Kingdom of Ugge was blessedly unexciting. The highlights included little more than a near-collision with a flock of angry seagulls, a quick battle challenge when flying over a rival dragon clan's territory, and more bathroom stops than you'd think was essential, mostly because of Derek. Almost as if he was deliberately slowing them down.

If you had asked Ashley a mere month ago whether she would be blasé about dragon flight, she would've told you that you were insane. But this is the truth of it. Once you've battled ice elves, witches, trolls, evil magicians, and cruel stepsisters, flying for hundreds of miles over rocky, snow-covered peaks, golden fields, an ocean or two, fire swamps, flaming lakes, and more forbidden forests than anyone knew existed, dragon flight is about as exciting as brushing your teeth.

There was, however, a slight sense of unease. A prickle at the back of Ashley's neck, as if she were being watched. But each time she glanced over her shoulder, she saw nothing out of the ordinary ... well ... other than Layyin throwing her hands in the air rather than holding on to Deathgiver's scales like a responsible person who didn't want to fall into a fire swamp or a flaming lake.

They flew east under a lavender sky, swaths of bruised-colored clouds streaking across the nascent sun. Though the orange glow was nothing more than a thumbnail, it shone through, because clouds are ephemeral and made of nothing more than mist, while the sun is everlasting and hotter than all the fires of hell.

"Are we there yet?" Tressa whined for the five-hundredth time. Ashley thought about turning around and wrapping Tressa's rapidly-growing hair around her mouth. But what good would it do? Plus, it would require that Ashley let go of Deathgiver's spiny scales, which would be unwise. "Seriously, how much longer? Ashley, can you ask Deathgiver?"

"I need to pee," Derek said.

"No," the princesses chorused.

"How much snow did you drink before we left?" Tressa chided.

Ashley shook her head and rolled her eyes; what kind of heroes took this many bathroom breaks? It's not done!* "Deathgiver, how much longer before we arrive in the Kingdom of Ugge? Asking for a friend," she said, pitching her voice to be heard over the whistling wind.

Deathgiver roared in palpable frustration, the sound reverberating beneath Ashley's backside. "Humans have the weirdest concept of time. We will get there when we get there."

"Makes sense, but Derek needs to pee, and Tressa is driving us all insane."

"That prince sure needs to empty his bladder a lot. It's unnatural. We will arrive when the mother of all dragons sinks into the west."

"Mother of all dragons?"

"The sun. You people have the most unpoetic language. Now leave me alone, or I'll collide with the next pack of sky wolves on purpose."

"Sky wolves?"

"'Dragon' for vultures."

"Makes sense. Okay." Ashley told the humans that it was going to be hours more. Much groaning ensued. And another bathroom stop.

"Perhaps we can use the time to plot?" Sadira said once they were airborne again. "A busy mind is a not-bored mind."

"That's profound. Not," Tressa snarked.

"But true," Kai said.

"Whatever. What's the plan?" Tressa said.

"As I see it, our ultimate goal is to prevent Charming from continuing his evil rule," Ashley said. "Stop him from stealing from his subjects, marrying to gain more assets, and put an end to the kidnapping of children and killing of dragons."

"And killing baby dragons. I pray Derek Junior is all right. But the goal is not just dethroning the bedswerving, sword-happy, lying, stealing, jerk," Derek said.

"What's the goal then?" Ashley said.

"Why do you not understand our objective? We've been clear the whole time. Sadira, remind her."

"Prince Charming must die," Sadira quoted.

"I knew that; I was just saying it less callously."

"Which worries me," Derek said. "Not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you. I think in the end, you're going to wuss out."

"Am not," Ashley insisted.

"Ooooh! I have another idea for how we can kill him," Kai said.

"Not the drowning again," Tressa said, the eye roll apparent in her tone.

"There might be a little drowning involved," Kai admitted.

"What is a 'little drowning?'" Derek laughed. "Is it like being a little dead?"

"No, I thought we could give him the murder combo pack. We've all worked so hard. Why shouldn't everyone be part of the fun?"

"That's very egalitarian of you," Sadira said.

"I am not like an eagle. I'm a fish," Kai sputtered.

"Never mind her," Derek said. "The educational system in the Kingdom of Atlantis is underfunded, and we've been on this dragon way too long. My poor love spuds violently need an airing."

"Love spuds?" Sadira said.

"TMI, Derek. Please no more discussion of your cramped spuds," Tressa said.

Ever the mediator, Ashley changed the subject. "Let's now turn our attention from love spuds back to plotting. We must get Druscilla and Marveloni out of the way before we go for Charming. As long as he has magic on his side, we don't stand a chance."

"Could be fun," Derek said. "Kind of a three-fer of assassinations."

"Do we have to kill them all?" Ashley said.

"Yes!" they chimed.

👑👑👑

They passed over their fifth forbidden forest at the border between the Kingdom of Ugge and Over the Rainbow. At least this one didn't have a significant bat infestation, but it did have loads of those creepy, gnarly-branched trees that grumbled about trespassers. The trees were old men yelling at the neighborhood kids for playing in the garden.

Deathgiver 'explained' where precisely the trees could stuff their objections, (which incidentally didn't seem physically possible). When the trees responded by tossing acorns and pinecones at them, Deathgiver let loose his dragonly fire. This seemed to convince the trees to accept his point of view.

As the sun traversed the sky and approached the end of its day, our heroes caught sight of the watchtowers of the Interkingdom Games, the flags of the seven kingdoms, and the plain white banner of the Freestate of Ugge, flapping in the wind.

The Games sat nestled in an oval-shaped clearing in what appeared to be a regular, non-forbidden, non-bat-infested, non-cranky-treed forest. The treeless clearing looked odd, like a blemish on the earth, as if they'd cleared thousands of trees merely to make way for the games of man—Ashley kind of understood why the trees would get cranky.

"Maybe we should land in the forest, so we don't risk being seen by anyone in those watchtowers?" Ashley suggested. "The trees look friendly enough."

"I think we should do another flyover," Derek countered. "Getting the lay of the land, so to speak, would be worth it. Also, being literally laid would be worth it. Stop looking at me. It's been eons. And you know what it was like with Charming. The worst."

Ashley nodded. She well knew of Charming's shortcomings in bed. "You speak the truth in all ways, but look at those guard towers. I'll bet they're stocked with arrows and cannons and other pointy things that can pierce bodies and cause major blood leakage."

"I think he's right," Sadira said. "Knowing where everything is situated could be extremely helpful. Maybe if we stick to the outskirts? Don't get too close?"

Ashley didn't have the energy for a fight. Plus, they were right; having a bird's eye view of the Games would be beneficial to the mission, as long as they didn't end up like a unicorn on the wrong end of an arrow. "Deathgiver, we were thinking about making a reconnaissance loop around the Games. Do you think you could go up higher? Out of arrow distance? And without being seen?"

"No problem." He turned sharply into a vertical upward trajectory while his passengers screamed. Ashley's stomach and heart were left several thousand feet below. Just leave them there, she thought. A stomach was nothing more than an inconvenience right now give the lack of food and constant acidic turmoil.

"What did you tell him?" Derek gasped. "Is this your end game? Try to kill all of us so you can be the overlord of the seven realms?"

"No!" Ashley yelled, sliding back into Tressa's lap. "Deathgiver, stop! We're barely holding on."

"You said to go higher."

"Stop being so literal."

"Humans! So delicate! Fine." He leveled off,

Ashley glared back at Derek. "How could you think I wanted to kill everyone?"

"I don't really think that. Just got caught up in the moment of terror. It happens," he shrugged.

"Would've been kind of a brilliant plan," Blanche said. "Not that I thought you'd betray us or anything. I mean, you are Princess Ashley."

"What does that mean?"

"You're too nice to hurt a mosquito," Blanche said.

Ashley nodded, thinking about Chomperz. "That's true. But only because some of my best friends are mosquitoes."

"Case closed," Derek said.

"Can we please just suss out the Games now, and get back to the mission?"

"If that's what you want," Derek said.

What I want is to conk you over the head with a teapot, Ashley thought. But she wisely kept quiet. A good rule of thumb is "never anger your fellow heroes until the rescuing is done."

👑👑👑

Deathgiver flew slowly over the games, staying away from the towers as well as he could.

On the northwest side of the oval were the humungous tents, one made of golden thread, which had to be Charming's. Yep, there was his standard atop an overcompensatingly-tall flagpole and an order of knights in shining Ever After armor, positioned outside the entrance, with long pointy spears. Beside Charming's tent, was another, slightly smaller, also guarded. This tent had to be Druscilla's. Shockingly, Ashley didn't have a speck of jealousy that Druscilla was allowed to attend, even though Charming had told Ashley she wouldn't be welcome at the Games. Of course, now she knew why. He had lots of "visits" to take care of on the way. And probably planned to have an endless stream of wenches come to his tent once he arrived. Instead of sadness, the fact that she'd no longer have to share a bed with Charming, gave her a lightness of being, as if a heavy, sweltering, ermine-edged velvet cape had lifted from her shoulders.

South of the nobles' tents, a group of trolls erected an enormous marquee probably for the awards ceremony. The tall trolls didn't need ladders, which was a plus, but knowing their construction prowess, Ashley worried for the people who had to go inside, risking their lives so their prince could feed his ego with their adoration. Nearby was a circular dragon arena and a jousting pitch.

On the northeastern side of the oval were temporary stables for horses, unicorns, and dragons, a temporary dovecote, and a large pond for water events. Lines of food wagons had been parked side by side, the smell of smoked meats and fried food wafting forth—a sad reminder that Ashley's empty stomach had managed to catch up with her after all.

At the oval's furthest edge were the shabby tents and lines of sleeping bags and blankets for the poorest of attendees.

As they completed the pass around, on the northern end of the forest, a barely-noticeable, threadlike dark-gray plume rose from a ragged opening atop a black tent they hadn't noticed before. A bitter tang wrapped itself around Ashley's tongue. Her nose burned with the smell of blood, death, and fire. Her skin tightened and writhed as if a thousand malevolent beings crawled over her. With all her being, Ashley wanted to avoid this place.

"What is that horrible smell?" Blanche said. "It's worse than a princess's body odor after 100 years of sleeping in a glass coffin. Charming had said the damn stench was so bad, he almost keeled over before he got a chance to kiss me." This explained the bed of roses.

"Too bad, he didn't kiss you and keel over. Would've saved us a lot of heartache," Tressa said.

"I'm getting out of here," Deathgiver coughed out a line of fire. "That's Marveloni's traveling lair." He glided toward the north side of the forest.

"How do you know?"

"Because it smells like a dragon graveyard, Deathgiver shuddered and landed between a circle of redwoods and ferns well hidden from the Games. "Your tour has officially concluded. Please disembark in an orderly manner, and don't forget to tip your dragon."

Ashley translated.

"Tip? But tell him we have no money," Tressa said.

She explained this to Deathgiver.

"I don't need money," Deathgiver roared. "I need meat."

"He says he needs meat," Ashley said.

"The only meat I have right now is attached to my bones," Derek said, "meaning I need it more than you. Besides, we're just as hungry as you are."

Once again, Ashely translated, feeling like a tennis ball bouncing back and forth. For story flow, just assume that Ashley translates each time someone speaks so we can continue the conversation uninterrupted by author intervention.

"That's up for debate," Deathgiver said. "You ain't been flying potential snacks on your back for hours. Be happy I abstained," he looked back at Derek and licked his dragony lips.

Derek gulped. Loudly. "We are very grateful, Sir Mister Lord Deathgiver the Fearsome, all who hear your name shall cower in fear. Truly grateful."

"Wow," Ashley said, impressed with Derek's prowess at kiss-assery for the purposes of self-preservation. "Look, we'll try to find you some meat, in the meantime, you must remain hidden. She slid from Deathgiver's back, her feet smacking against mud, which splashed onto her legs. "Ugh."

"That's why I landed here, near the dragon stables. The best place for me to hide is with my brethren," he said. "I recognized a few of my mates from the club. I hope they have some jellied moose nose,"** Deathgiver said.

"If jellied moose nose keeps you from eating us, I hope they have it as well. Although it sounds vile."

"Dunno," Layyin said. "I'd try it."

"Please give us back our gluten-fearing princess," Derek clasped his palms together as if in prayer.

Deathgiver and the royals parted ways in the forest. He headed for the dragon stables, while the royals tromped through the woods not far from the line of food wagons, each footstep making a slurping sound in the mud.

There were wagons selling deep-fried turnips, deep-fried pig snouts, deep-fried lard (which seemed to be redundant, honestly), and even deep-fried tarantulas—which would be only a fraction more appealing than waking up cuddling a live tarantula in your bed.*** Oh, and on the end was a cart selling deep-fried frog's legs. Derek glanced at the sign, shuddered, and backed away without a word.

"Speaking of eating," Blanche said, wiping a little saliva pooled at the side of her mouth. "I could go for some deep-fried turnips. I haven't eaten in a month."

"Does anyone have any money?" Sadira asked.

They all shook their heads. Here they were, seven broke royals, without a farthing between them.

"We could demand food," Derek suggested. "We are their sovereigns. Some of our visages even appear on the money."

"Great idea, Derek," Tressa said. "Let's walk up and introduce ourselves. Hey, we're here on a secret mission to kill your prince, and if you'd be so kind to hand over a bushel of fried deliciousness, we'd be oh so grateful."

"I see your point," Derek said. "All right, then we steal it."

"We cannot steal," Sadira said. "We are not common thieves."

Derek wiggled his eyebrows. "We could be uncommon thieves."

"Guys, people are looking at us. Let's get away from here and find something to wear that's not bled on, sweated on, or coated in mud."

"What's with all the mud here?" Blanche said.

"Do I have to explain everything?" Derek said. "They cleared the trees to make way for the games, so there are no roots to absorb the water when it rains. Thus, the water stays on the surface, turning the dirt to mud, which, incidentally, is seeping inside my boots, making my toes unhappy."

"We need disguises so we can get close to Druscilla," Ashley said.

"Who would recognize us in these?" Derek sniffed his velvet tunic and winced.

"If you still had your peacock hat, they would," Tressa teased.

"Madame, I have never worn peacock in all my days. So last century."

"I suggest armor," Ashley said. "No better disguise. Plus, guards will have full-access passes to everywhere on the grounds. Even the royal tents."

"How do we get armor?" Sadira said.

"We steal them, of course," Layyin said. "Just not from the villagers. We steal from the rich to help the poor; it's like we're a bunch of royal Robin Hoods."

"What's a Robin Hood?" Kai said.

"A story from another land."

"Don't we have enough stories here?" Derek grumbled. "Why go elsewhere? No one is loyal anymore."

A racket rose from the direction of the fancy tents. Spears clanged, and threats exchanged, followed by uproarious laughter. The royals hustled as close as possible to the scene and hid behind a grove of pungent bay trees. Behind Charming's golden tent, three drunkards in armor stood beside a table piled with oozing, rotted fruit, guzzling tankards of mead, and taking turns throwing the aforementioned fruit at a target. Unfortunately, Ashley couldn't see the target as it was hidden from her vantage point by some shrubbery.

The fortunate news?

Drunken guards = easy to steal armor.

At least something was going in their favor.

"I have a plan," Ashley said. "Three of us lure the guards back here into the forest, and then we jump out from behind the trees, surprising them, whereupon we borrow their armor and spears."

"I see a deep flaw in your plan," Derek said.

"What?"

"The part where they have armor and spears, and we have," he indicated his torn, dirty, bloody velvet body covering that used to be clothing.

"But they're drunk," Ashley said. "That's a point in our favor."

"Also," Layyin said, rolling up her ragged sleeves, "we have seven very sexy and attractive royals hopped up on energy potion. It's almost unfair how much advantage that gives us."

"I guess," Derek said.

"Sadira, Blanche, and I will lure the guards," Ashley said. "The rest of you hide.

"But I want to be on luring duty," Layyin protested.

"You're one of the strongest of us all," Ashley said. "We need you to help bring the guards down."

"All right," Layyin said brightly. "I shall topple the guards like rotted trees."

"Good," Ashley said.

👑👑👑

Ashley's stomach wrenched as she Blanche and Sadira ran from tree to tree, keeping cover for as long as possible as they neared the guards. Finally, they saw the targets—human beings, men, women, and children, dressed in rags, covered in rotted fruit, imprisoned in pillories. Remembering her brief time in one of these monstrosities, Ashley rubbed her neck and wrists.

"Those poor people," Sadira whispered.

"Why are the guards doing this?" Blanche said in horror.

"I believe they think of it as entertainment," Ashley said.

"The fruit reeks," Sadira held her nose. "Why would they put this ... activity ... close to the royal tents?"

"I guess because it's entertaining to our depraved prince," Ashley said, clenching her jaw and tightening her fists. She gasped.

"What?" Sadira said. "Are you all right?"