Unicorns? Get Real!
Kathryn Lasky
Unicorns? Get Real!
A Camp Princess Novel
Contents
Prologue
“Look, Gilly, at the high heels Princess Alicia is wearing.
Chapter 1
Gundersnap’s Proclamation
Chapter 2
The Agony of Princess Gundersnap
Chapter 3
Gundersnap’s Bright Idea
Chapter 4
Biding Royal Time
Chapter 5
Berwynna the Impossible
Chapter 6
A Royal Mess
Chapter 7
Basic Unicorn
Chapter 8
Roundup
Chapter 9
Lost, then Found!
Chapter 10
An Invitation—at Last!
Chapter 11
The Princesses Prepare
Chapter 12
The Princess and the Pimple
Chapter 13
Just Me?
Chapter 14
Silk
Chapter 15
The Snort Makes a Grave Mistake
Chapter 16
Off to Burning Shield
Chapter 17
A Royal Dilemma
Chapter 18
The Tournament
Chapter 19
Drops of Blood
Chapter 20
When Fact Meets Fiction
Chapter 21
A Glow in the Dawn
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
THE PRINCESSES OF THE SOUTH TURRET
PRINCESS ALICIA QUINTANA MARIELA MARGARITA
Native country: Belgravia
National flower: The lily
Motto: As strong as it is beautiful: thus goes the swan
Coat of arms: The coat of arms of the rulers of Belgravia dates back to the early Middle Ages, when it was said that the soul of a great warrior fallen in battle returned in the form of a swan and struck down the enemy leader as he was about to capture the first child of the king and queen. From that day hence, the Belgravian swans have always enjoyed royal protection and are treated as sacred birds.
PRINCESS GUNDERSNAP LUDMILLA MARIA THERESA
Native country: The Empire of Slobodkonia, a confederation of Slobodk states ruled by the Empress Maria Theresa, mother of Gundersnap and fifteen other children
National flower: The prickly thistled cactus. This flower is known to grow only in the rugged highlands of eastern Slobodkonia. Tempting, with gorgeous bright hues ranging from purple to creamy rose, it is impossible to pick without severe injury from the razor-edged leaves and sharp thorns.
Motto: Right rides with might
Coat of arms: The Slobodkonian bull, now extinct. Some believe the bull is reincarnated in the person of the present Empress Maria Theresa, regarded as the most belligerent and aggressive of monarchs because of her fondness for war and invasion.
PRINCESS KRISTINA GUNILLA SOLVYG, CALLED KRISTEN
Native country: The Isles of Salt Tears in the Realm of Rolm
National flower: The ice daisy, a hardy flower that grows exclusively on icebergs in the Realm of Rolm
Motto: Blow, wind, blow: make our salt blood flow
Coat of arms: A sea serpent entwined with the purple whale of Rolm. Centuries ago, this killer whale consumed countless Rolmian children before it was slain by Bella the Magnificent, the great-great-great-grandmother of Princess Kristen. Previous to that time the coat of arms had merely been a legendary sea serpent of vague origin.
PRINCESS MYRELLA SERENA ASTRIA
Native country: Marsh Kingdoms
National flower: The pink mallow of the marsh
Motto: In mud we trust
Coat of arms: The elegant transformations of marsh creatures such as the frog and the dragonfly are celebrated by the people of the Marsh Kingdoms, who for centuries have embraced their country’s swampy and squishy landscape with passion and ingenuity. The frog prince is no mere legend but is based on an inspiring figure of history, a real hero to the citizens of this kingdom. It is said that the first king of the marshes was a certain Gaston de Frogmore who, at one time before his transformation, had indeed been an amphibian of some sort. It was King Frogmore who constructed the first and only stilt palace in the world. The palace still stands on its tall stilt foundations, and its Hall of Reeds is a must-see for every tourist of the region.
CAMP PRINCESS CHECKLIST
Session Two
Dear Royal Camper:
More excitement awaits you at the second session of Camp Princess! In preparation for special second-session activities, these additional items will be required. We suggest ordering them from the special supplement to the Royal Campers’ Equipment Catalogue.
One complete riding habit—no hoop skirts permitted, only princess trou!
Stirrup friendly footwear—no heels, please!
Crown-jeweled riding helmets with detachable wide sun brims. Helmet must bear the majestic safety seal of approval for protection of royal brains.
Sleeping bag—with ten-thousand-thread-count lining. Royal crest or coat of arms must be embroidered on all sleeping bags.
Water-resistant, sea-serpent-skinned rain garments
Princess toiletries carry-all. We recommend the Princess-in-a-bag model that comes in a range of colors and with multiple compartments.
Loom-woven silk mosquito netting (jewel attachments optional)
Quart-sized sterling silver canteen with royal initials engraved
Oil of Saint Arachnis insect repellent
Prologue
“Look, Gilly, at the high heels Princess Alicia is wearing. They got diamonds in them, they do!” a groom from the royal stables whispered in her ear.
“Crispin! What are you doing here?”
“Well, what about yourself?” he replied. The two servants of Camp Princess were hidden in the shadows of a balcony, while below in the ballroom dozens of princesses danced. It was a kaleidoscope of jeweled shoes, jeweled gowns, and gleaming tiaras. They were practicing for the ball next month at Burning Shield, a camp for royal princes across the lake. It would be the first time many of them would dance in high heels and “full pouffiness,” which meant wearing two or more crinolines under their ball gowns to make them stick out as far as possible.
Suddenly there were yelps and shrieks.
“Pileup!” Crispin cried out with excitement. More servants raced to the edge of the balcony.
There was the blast of a whistle as Signor Pippinia, the dance master, raced to the center of the ballroom, where a heap of princesses lay sprawled atop one another.
“There’s always at least two pileups. It takes the First Years quite a while to get the hang of dancing with the high heels. That’s why they always have the Third Years as their partners,” Gilly said knowingly to the other servants who stood near her. She was surrounded mostly by scullery girls, laundresses, and stable boys, who knew little of the royal activities, unlike she herself, who had served for several years now as a chambermaid.
“All right, who’s taking bets here that it’s the Royal Princess Kristen who started this smashup?” a footman said. Footmen were almost as knowledgeable as chambermaids about the princesses. They were in charge of all princesses’ transportation, from carriages to horses, and they served princesses at formal occasions—banquets, tournaments, and similar events.
“Oh my goodness!” Gilly moaned. She feared the footman was right. Princess Kristen from the Realm of Rolm was a wild princess if there ever was one. Charging across the ballroom floor as if she were on the jousting field, Princess Kristen had no use whatsoever for high heels,
and she was definitely not accustomed to crinolines and full pouffiness. Leather jerkins, high boots, and wide-cut britches were her favorite clothing. She had protested mightily the entire time Gilly and another chambermaid were dressing her in the layers of crinolines. “Worse than a pony with a burr under its saddle,” Gilly had muttered, to which Kristen had replied, “I’d much prefer a burr to being smothered in all this.”
Next they had attempted to teach her to walk in the high heels. But she balked at even taking a single step. “Stubborn as a royal mule, she is!” Gilly again muttered. First a pony and then a mule! Yes, Princess Kristen was the wild one of the group. Wild as any animal.
When the princesses had arrived at camp for the first session, Gilly had prayed that the ones of South Turret, where she served, would not be snotty as the princesses from the previous summer. Well, the princesses were not snotty. They were as nice as could be. But they were also very independent-minded. Gilly knew for a fact that they often sneaked out at night. But she was no tattletale, and they didn’t seem any the worse for it. So why worry?
In addition to the wild Princess Kristen, the South Turret was home to Princess Alicia of All the Belgravias—a real beauty, if there ever was one. Charming, delicate, but strong-willed in her own way. Then dear, squat Princess Gundersnap of the Empire of Slobodkonia, a war-inclined nation ruled by her fierce mother, the Empress Maria Theresa. Now there was an interesting princess. In all her years of being a chambermaid, Gilly had never had a princess like her. Gundersnap displayed not the slightest twinge of homesickness. And she constantly had to be reminded to write home.
New to the South Turret this session was tiny Princess Myrella of the Marsh Kingdoms. In the previous session, the princess had had the unfortunate experience of turreting with two of the meanest princesses in the camp: Princess Morwenna and Princess Millicent. Alicia, Kristen, and Gundersnap had become good friends with Myrella and wrote to the Camp Mistress formally requesting, indeed begging, for Myrella to be transferred to their turret for this session. She was so tiny, and there was plenty of room, they argued. So it was arranged. Princess Myrella moved out of the North Turret, where she was replaced by Princess Zelenka, also quite nasty, who fit perfectly with the other two.
Myrella was so happy to get out of the North Turret, she said she did not mind sleeping in the wardrobe closet at all, so it had been very plushly outfitted for her. There was a bureau in the closet with exceptionally large drawers. The royal carpenter had been summoned and had fashioned the top drawer into a lovely little bed for the tiny princess. The middle drawer had been turned upside down and served as a desktop, and the one below that had been lined with cushions for Myrella to sit in. Myrella called these lower drawers her “study” and found this vertical living arrangement quite to her liking.
Gilly peered over the edge of the balcony and watched Gundersnap as she straightened out her tiara, muttering in the strange language known as Slobo.
Signor Pippinia was now addressing the princesses.
“Dancing is an art form, my ladies. It is not a race, Princess Kristen. And now that you are having your first try with high heels, we need to think control and balance. So we are having slow dances. Let me demonstrate.” He snapped his fingers. A servant came forward with a pillow. Perched on the pillow was a pair of high-heeled red velvet shoes with emeralds embedded in the heels. Signor Pippinia slipped off his boots. “Luckily the Queen Mum and I are the same size. She has kindly lent me her shoes, which are perfect for my high-heeled demonstration.” He nodded at Queen Mother Adelia Elsinore Louisa, the Camp Mistress. “Now observe.” He clicked his fingers, and the musicians began to play a slow tune with a heavy beat. “One-two-three and one-two-three…a nice little dip and then a twirl and then one-two-three and one-two-three.” He swirled by the Princess Gundersnap and bowed to her. She took his hand. The smoothness went out of Signor Pippinia’s step, and it became more of a march.
Gilly rolled her eyes.
“Easy, easy, Princess Gundersnap,” the dance master cautioned. “We are not on a battlefield with your mother the empress, thank goodness. We are in a ballroom. You want to lead? Oh sure, no problem.”
Princess Gundersnap got a glint in her eye. Sticking her neck forward, she began to shove the dance master around the ballroom floor. He might as well be a battering ram, Gilly thought. And then again wondered, as she had so many times, how come she had been born a simple servant and these girls royal princesses, born to rule. She just knew that she would be a much more graceful dancer than any one of them.
Oops! Gundersnap had just plowed into another pair of dancers, who went on a wild skid across the ballroom. Four jeweled high-heeled shoes flew up into the air.
“Got it!” Crispin yelled as he reached over the balcony and caught a pearl-encrusted shoe that had flown in a lofty arc toward the ceiling.
Chapter 1
GUNDERSNAP’S PROCLAMATION
Princess Gundersnap sat down at the desk in her chamber and took a piece of paper and a quill pen. She chewed the end of the quill. Within a minute the end was in shreds. “Oh dear!” She sighed. “What can I write Mummy?” Maria Theresa, Empress of All the Slobodks, was not your warm and cuddly kind of mum. Gundersnap sighed once more and dipped the pen into the inkwell.
Dear Empress Mummy, Royal Majesty of the Empire of Slobodkonia,
It is not quite summer as it should be. But that often happens here at Camp Princess with its odd seasons. At least it’s not winter. Let’s say it’s autumn in July. Although I am happy to be here, I of course will miss terribly our usual summer sojourns to the Convent of the Sisters of Perpetual Misery. I’ll miss our lovely hours together kneeling on the stone floors while praying for your successful invasions of a kingdom. This year it is to be the Empire of Hottompot, is it not? How excited my dear sister Princess Zelda must be that you may capture a prince for her there!
“And how lucky I am to be the ninth daughter!” murmured Gundersnap. There were at least four more daughters ahead of her who would have to be married off, not counting sons. Maybe there would be a shortage of kingdoms to invade when her turn came to be married. Maybe the supply of eligible princes would have dried up and she could actually marry someone of her own choosing. Although she doubted the supply would run dry anytime soon. Across the lake at Camp Burning Shield, there seemed to be plenty of royal princes. Alicia, her turretmate, who was more than slightly boy crazy, was constantly asking when the dance with Burning Shield would be. Gundersnap continued writing.
I want to thank you for allowing Gortle to come to camp for this session. I cannot wait until he arrives. I am sure he will entertain us well.
“Fat Chance!” Gundersnap muttered. If there was one thing that Princess Gundersnap snapped over, it was the ill treatment of court dwarves. The poor little humans suffered various painful conditions and health problems that ranged from backaches to terrible headaches. Yet they were supposed to be constantly tumbling, juggling, and performing tricks for the court. “Positively nauseating!” Gundersnap hissed.
Once campers had been in camp for one session, they were permitted to bring a servant to provide light entertainment—a family court jester, a juggler, a tumbler, or a troubadour. Gundersnap, however, was not bringing Gortle as a source of light entertainment, but to free him from what she considered the abuses of court life in Slobodkonia. Her mother, however, didn’t need to know that. She continued:
Well, I must close now as it is time for my evening prayers. My thoughts are with you on this campaign. Please give my love to all fifteen of my dear brothers and sisters. And—she looked up at the painting over her desk of her dear pony—a hug for Menschmik, and do give him one of those golden apples that he so loves.
Yours Very Truly,
Royal Princess Gundersnap Ludmilla Maria Theresa of the Empire of Slobodkonia
As she finished the letter, Princess Gundersnap could hear the voices of her turretmates in the main salon. She crept toward the door to listen.
“Holy monk bones! What in the name of Saint Sammy is this?” she heard Princess Alicia saying.
Then Princess Kristen began reading aloud the note Gundersnap had left on the salon table.
Let it be understood that Gortle Zurf, court dwarf from the Empire of Slobodkonia, arrives in a few days and will not be here for my or anyone else’s entertainment. I deplore the use of extremely short human beings as a source of amusement. I am bringing him here expressly to spare him such abuses. He is here as my dear friend and confidant. Please attend to the following regulations: And I mean it. Smurchdot! (That means “Listen up” in Slobo.)