Happily Ever Awkward (The H.E.A. Files, #1)(4)
Handmaidens are not schooled in the ways of magic; otherwise, Laura would have known that Shadow Wizards are the most dangerous wizards in the world, and, more importantly, that they sacrifice princesses to fuel their dark and deadly magic.
But she didn’t know, so she didn’t fix the letter.
And that’s why I have this story to tell.
2
THE BALLAD OF KING HOFNAR
Now that we’ve met our princess, perhaps we should meet our Prince Charming. But, before we can properly do that, I need to take you back a bit.
Once upon ANOTHER time, long before the earth had fully emerged from its watery cradle, there ruled a minor king named Hofnar who ruled a minor kingdom named Lilypine.
King Hofnar was known as “new royalty” and consequently was frowned upon by neighboring monarchs. He had no manners, pedigree, or class; he spoke in an old-fashioned dialect that prompted the other kings to snicker at his “backwoodseth, bumpkineth wayseth”. Without a single drop of blue blood flowing through his veins, King Hofnar could not have been more unqualified to rule had he been a tufted titmouse.
What he WAS qualified to do was hit things with his war hammer.
Prior to becoming a king, Hofnar had been part of a horde of barbarians sweeping south over the Knuckle Islands to attack the archipelago. He was good at what he did — which was smashing things with his war hammer — but after overrunning the island of Lilypine and celebrating the conquest a bit too enthusiastically, he fell into a drunken slumber. His barbarian brothers, meanwhile, having seen nothing of value on Lilypine, departed the island in a flailing, screaming mass. When Hofnar came to his senses the next day, he found himself alone and confused.
To be fair, Hofnar almost always found himself confused.
Through a convoluted series of events and court intrigues far too complicated for Hofnar’s barbaric wits to comprehend, the young barbarian next found himself married to Berba the Frigid, princess of Lilypine, and subsequently crowned the island’s king.
It is worth noting that Hofnar benefited in one significant way by not leaving the island with the other barbarians.
After ravaging their way across the archipelago, the horde ran afoul of the dark wizard Seeboth, Lord of Shadows. Needless to say, their rampaging stopped right there.
So did their lives.
The Battle of Waterblack lasted a full ten seconds. It would have lasted five, but Seeboth yawned in the middle of his spell.
Hofnar eventually learned that Berba the Frigid’s title did not imply she was “easily chilled”, as her father had led him to believe. Too late did Hofnar realize he had been tricked. Berba’s father, desperate to find a husband for his daughter, seduced Hofnar with promises of wealth and a throne, but upon marrying Berba and taking the throne, Hofnar discovered there was no wealth.
Only lumber.
Lots and lots of useless lumber, too weak to be used for construction or shipbuilding or even for burning. All one could actually manufacture from Lilypine trees was shade.
So Hofnar found himself trapped in a loveless marriage with a frigid wife on a worthless throne made of Lilypine wood.
As if those difficulties weren’t troublesome enough, King Hofnar had an even bigger issue to deal with: he suffered from what certain healers called a “gland problem”.
We shall call it Excessive Testosterone Syndrome, a product of his barbarian heritage. Sadly, this condition tended to provoke in him what might be called “aggressive tendencies”.
Queen Berba the Frigid had little sympathy for King Hofnar’s glandular secretions, so he spent many lonely nights in the forest, smashing trees to vent his frustration.
Considering he was hormonally challenged at the time, his encounter with the witches seems all the more tragic.
Said group of witches sat on a cluster of tree stumps, hunched like pieces of shriveled fruit. One of them slowly creaked and cracked to her feet then began to speak.
“Sisters, my self-image was in the outhouse,” she began. “But nows ol’ Azraethel taught me that beauty’s only skin deep, I finally feels better. ’Cause if beauty’s that shallow, I can just peels it off anyone prettier ’n me!”
The surrounding witches cackled and applauded.
Behind a podium at the front of the circle, a witch in sharp, business-like robes quieted the others. Her scraggly hair was tucked carefully under her pointed hat, and a banner strung through the trees behind her proclaimed:
Witch Way To Go: 12 Steps To Take
When Your Self-Image Is At Stake!
“Yes, my dearies,” said Azraethel the Motivational Witch. “Learning to love yourselves is an important step in getting villagers to stop burning you at the stake, but more importantly, you need to stop killing them — they don’t like that! When you get the urge to give them the old Evil Eye, you have to step back and think ‘peasant-friendly’.”
At that moment, King Hofnar smashed down a tree and came thrashing out of the woods. “Beware the wrath of Hofnar this night!” he bellowed. “I be in the mood to kick buttock!”
The witches stared at him.
King Hofnar stared at them.