"Many of them will be horribly disappointed because yet another royal wedding passed, and some prince didn't snatch them up. Although that's a thought. Some of them might have come here to find a royal bride, any royal bride, no matter how far from the throne. Five years is a long wait. They aren't getting any younger."
"Neither am I," Belinda said with a sigh. "You'd think Father would have the sense to give up on me and make one of my younger sisters the heir, more likely to attract a prince with the strength to take care of the kingdom. Bythia and Barbarina ..." She shuddered. "Even with all the magic those two learned, Father would never be persuaded to make one of them his heir. It's sad, really. A wicked enchantress in charge might just make our tiny little backwater kingdom a popular place to visit."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, it makes perfect sense," Bib said. "The presence of evil magic tends to draw the darker sorts of magical beasts. Even if they don't immediately start to feast on farm animals and kidnap children to enslave, their presence would in turn draw adventurers and heroes. Along with them would come all the hangers-on, the support teams, the armorers and healers and minstrels looking for another heroic ballad to write to launch them into fame and a comfortable retirement. After them would come the admirers and hopeful dreamers and the boys who want to apprentice with heroes. It's somewhat of a trade guild all in itself, and profitable."
"Nonsense," Merrigan said with a sniff.
Still, she couldn't shake the thought, and the speculations that followed. Leffisand, she had to admit, had done some despicable things in his quest to consolidate his power and secure his throne. If he had continued in his course of evil deeds and schemes, would Carlion have eventually attracted magical monsters that attracted heroes to fight them? And in the wake of the heroes, bring in people who had to pay for inns to stay in and food to eat and new clothes and all that went with travelers and armor and battles?
The three talked for another hour, weighing options. The possibilities of the princes following a departing wedding guest. The chances they would realize their runaway princess stayed in Alliburton. And just how long until peas were again served in the orphanage. The effects on Belinda faded as soon as the children ate their breakfast. The question was if enough damage had been done to bring the hunter princes into this quarter of the city.
"We can't rely on your disguise to stay stable," Merrigan said, when Belinda had recovered enough to get washed up and dressed. "I don't think you should leave the orphanage for the next few days. Just in case."
"That's it," Bib said. His pages riffled back and forth, loudly enough to make Merrigan and Belinda flinch. "A disguise—no, not a disguise, but a decoy! We'll need to borrow one of Gilda's tiaras."
"What?" both princesses said in perfect, shocked unison.
"It's utterly brilliant," the book continued, ignoring the stunned looks the two exchanged over his pages.
For all his wisdom and the access to written knowledge, the book couldn't possibly understand. Tiaras and crowns were enchanted. They were stolen and recovered. They were inherited. They were not borrowed. It simply wasn't done.
"The spell is set to find a princess, am I correct?" Bib continued, oblivious to their reaction. "It's not tuned specifically to you, correct?"
"I don't think so. It's been so long since it latched onto me, but ..." Belinda's eyes got wide and a slow smile wiped away the disgusted twist that had held her mouth.
"What am I missing?" Merrigan demanded.
"We let those idiots find a princess. A real princess. Just not the one they're looking for. If I'm right, and the spell specifies a princess tangled in a spell, and not specifically Belinda," Bib continued, "then won't they simply ignore the spell when it keeps insisting that a princess is here, and they find one, right here at this sewing table, and she isn't Belinda?"
"Me?" Her voice squeaked alarmingly. A totally ridiculous wave of fear swept over her. "But I don't look like—I'm not—this isn't my face anymore. I'm—well, let's be honest, I'm a wrinkled, shriveled, white-haired, crooked old hag! With warts. What?" she snapped, when Belinda frowned thoughtfully.
"But Merrigan, you're not white-haired or crooked," Belinda protested. "You stand quite straight. And you have no warts. Isn't that odd? Bib, have you noticed ... well, maybe I was just distraught when I first arrived, but I could swear Merrigan isn't so ... so wrinkled anymore. And her hair is a lovely dark silver, streaked with sable. It's really hard to see under that cap she keeps it tucked up in all the time, but—"
"Stop talking about me as if I'm a dressmaker's mannequin."
"We need a mirror."
"We need a crown," Bib said. "That cap will come in handy. The moment that tracking spell brings one of those dunderheads stumbling in here, you stand up and give them some royal scorn. Whip your cap off, and show them your tiara. That spell will verify you speak the truth when you announce you're a princess. But since you're not their princess, well, they'll have to go away. The princess they want will be right there in the room with them, and they'll never notice."
"Announce I'm a princess." Merrigan's voice cracked. She shuddered. Maybe now she was getting sick. Was it possible for the tracking spell to have transferred from Belinda, or just widened its influence to affect her? "Do I have to tell them ... who I am?"
"Oh, Merrigan." Belinda wrapped her arms around her. The warmth and sympathy felt incredibly good. "Of course not. They don't deserve to know your name, and I understand completely. It's rather embarrassing, being under a curse. I can't understand why someone as wonderful as you would ever be put under a curse."
The laughter
