The traders stayed at the White Castle of Stalvart for three more nights to enjoy the spirited banquets the king held in their honor. Benedikt never really missed home when he ventured off on quests. He enjoyed the solitude of nature, the ability to get lost in his own thoughts. But whenever he returned, his vibrant countrymen reminded him why he loved to call Stalvart his home.

Their banquets lasted into the dusky hours of the morning and everyone drank a little too much mead and ate a little too much food. No one really danced so much as stomped and twirled when the musicians picked up their instruments after the food was cleared away. The courtiers twirled and stomped until their feet ached from pounding the stone floors and then promptly slunk off to sleep until noon.

It was a happy life.

When Benedikt awoke to the afternoon sun after the third banquet, he could feel his pulse in his aching feet and a dull throbbing in his skull from lack of sleep. He ran his rough fingers over his chapped lips. He had twirled with a beautiful Linnean girl at the second banquet and then kissed her in a dark corner for most of the third.

Kissing her was easy. She'd seemed to enjoy his lips by the way her hands had clutched hungrily at his doublet. He had no problem with kissing. It was rather enjoyable. He just didn't seem to have a knack for breaking curses, which was all anyone seemed to care about these days.

The castle keep of the citadel was a large maze of dark wooden walls and white marble floors. Parts of it even seemed to have been carved straight from the mountain. Tapestries hung between large wooden pillars — pillars which were mostly the polished trunks of trees, some even with branches still attached.

Prince Benedikt had learned his way around by memorizing these tapestries and the legends of Stalvart and Floryndal they depicted. He entered the breakfast room beside the tapestry of a knight in black armor on a large roan horse. It was a circular room with walls painted to look like a forest of trees. Tall arched windows lined the wall and let in the afternoon sun.

Benedikt sat beside his mother at the circular table near the windows and pulled up a plate of dry toasted bread. The slice of toast was halfway to the prince's mouth when a servant announced visitors at the door.

"Bring them in," King Sander said. He waved the strangers into the chamber.

Benedikt froze. He held the bread inches from his open mouth as the largest man he'd ever seen filled the doorway. The rosy-skinned man had to duck his head of bright red curls so he wouldn't bump the lintel and approached to kneel before the king. A man of similar size followed behind him. He was equally massive, but they looked nothing alike. The second man was awash in rich colors from his tawny complexion to the jewel tones of his well-tailored ensemble. Behind him came a fair, blonde-haired man of average stature. A woman with a complexion of deep umber followed the three men along with a boy who looked to be several years Benedikt's junior. With dark hair, and undertones of amber he boy looked like he might have been from Balkor, but Benedikt couldn't be sure.

Behind this odd assemblance, in strode a girl of his own age. Her skin was a soft gold that almost glowed in the light of the afternoon sun. She gave a sweeping bow but didn't kneel.

"You must be Captain Grielle?" the king asked hesitantly.

"I am," she replied. "I understand you have need of our services." She nodded to her comrades. Benedikt couldn't tear his eyes off her. She seemed so still, so sure. The air of authority rolled off of her and though she was short in stature and had a slight figure, the withering gaze of her deep blue eyes and her stormy brow gave him the impression she wasn't someone to cross.

"Indeed I do," King Sander said. "The Liberators came highly recommended."

Benedikt flinched as Captain Grielle's steely eyes caught his and he quickly returned the toast to his plate.

She had plaited her dark blonde hair and wrapped it around her head like a crown. As Benedikt glanced at her companions, he noticed the mismatched clothing that gave them such a piecemeal appearance. All six wore an odd assortment of garments from an immeasurable number of kingdoms. Grielle herself wore the leather pants favored by the people of Stalvart, the short black boots of an Andor seaman, and the white satin vest and billowy shirtsleeves of a Dankert courtier. They were undoubtedly mercenaries, but he wasn't entirely sure what "Liberators" did.

"And what sort of liberating do you require, Your Majesty?" Grielle asked, her eyes returning to the king.

"I need a band of warriors with your set of skills to accompany my son, Prince Benedikt, on his quest to wake the cursed princess who sleeps in the forest of Bleakwood."

Her brows pushed together as she seemed to consider these facts.

Benedikt didn't like the way she looked him over or the fact that his father had brought in outsiders without consulting him. It was rare that he found anyone outside his kingdom who sympathized with his quest.

"We'll take the job," she finally replied.

"And is the price you were told satisfactory?" the king asked.

"Indeed it is."

King Sander clasped his hands together in excitement. "Most excellent! You shall leave forthwith and I will gladly provide any supplies you may need for your journey. My quartermaster will see to it."

The captain bowed her head low again. "Many thanks, Your Majesty."

The ragtag group filed out of the circular room and headed off to find the quartermaster. King Sander then turned to his son. "It's settled. Go have your final quest and then return to your people with haste. Bring back your bride and you shall rule Stalvart by my side." A thin smile spread underneath his black beard.

Benedikt gave his father a solemn glance and stood abruptly. Even with the promise of a new adventure, he dreaded what waited for him at the end it. He steeled himself and said, "Father, before I go, I'd like to petition the High Council to repeal the True Love Act. We shouldn't have laws that dictate when we fall in love." He watched his father closely for any signs of disappointment or approval.

King Sander remained impassive, a solitary finger pressed to his chin. Then he let out a long sigh. "I won't stop you, but I will say this: there are reasons behind our laws and what you might think are outmoded traditions. I will confess, a selfish part of me doesn't want to send you away when you've just returned. I doubt anything will come of a petition, but this is what the council is for and it's time you learned how to work with them."

It wasn't exactly an endorsement, but it was something. Benedikt exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Father."

"Your cousin Fanna returned early this morning from her diplomatic trip to Nordenfell. The High Council will be meeting this afternoon," Queen Ylva said.

"Perfect," Benedikt replied. He shoved the remaining toast into his mouth, and with a curt bow, headed to the library to review the scrolls that held Stalvart's royal marriage proclamations.

~

The chambers of the high council were situated in one of the highest parts of in the white citadel. As Benedikt climbed the winding, marble staircase, he rehearsed what he planned to say before the council. With each step, his anxiety grew a little more and he resisted the urge to turn tail and scurry back down the steps. At the top of the staircase stood a massive, carved wooden door. The guards beside the door opened it as he approached.

Benedikt entered the long room, its walls lined with tall windows that stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. The setting of the afternoon sun cast the room in hues of gold and Benedikt had to blink a few times to adjust to the light. Everything was painted in white — from the tall wooden pillars to the flowing robes of the council members, who sat at a long white table.

The council members, mostly women but a few men, turned their heads as Benedikt entered, and the woman at the opposite end of the table stood. "Benny," she cooed, her deep voice echoing through the cold, bright chamber.

Like the other council members, she was dressed in traditional whites, but she wore a long white cape of heavy satin brocade over her robes that fanned out behind her — the cape of the Head Councilmember.

"Fanna," Benedikt replied through gritted teeth. "I've told you before that I don't like that name." He kept his voice even, though his fists quivered at his sides.

"Fine, little cousin," she said. The hem of her cape sighed along the ground as she crossed to meet Benedikt at the center of the hall.

He couldn't read her well. She always set her fair, unblemished features just how she wanted to appear, unassuming and emotionless.

Innocent.

But he knew better. It took all his willpower to keep the scowl off his face and "play nice" as his mother always suggested. Fanna had taken it upon herself to frame Benedikt for all her misbehaviors and misadventures throughout their shared childhood. Only when she got older did his parents discover how manipulative she could be, how cold she could be in her desire to control others. As she was next in line for the throne after him, King Sander had allowed her to work her way into the High Council in the hopes it would satisfy her desire for power.

For the most part, it worked. She seemed content to exert her will over any pathetic soul she could find from her seat at the council table.

Today, Benedikt was that pathetic soul.

When Fanna reached his side, he had to tilt his head back to meet his cousin's eyes. By some stroke of bad luck, she'd gotten all the height in the family, and had never once let him forget about it. She bent at her slender waist and placed a graceful kiss on his cheek.

"What brings you to the High Council? Or are you just here to pay your dear cousin a visit before I'm sent off as emissary to another gods-forsaken kingdom?" Fanna asked. She leaned back onto the marble table with both of her hands propping up her elegant frame.

With the other councilmembers to her back, her face shifted and she watched Benedikt with a hungry gaze. She looked at him like a cat looked at a mouse it had caught between its paws.

Benedikt cleared his voice and tried to catch the eyes of the council rather than the eyes of his cousin. "I'm here to petition before the High Council the repeal of the True Love Act as was set forth by the warrior's council along with the mighty King Vidar. I believe that the act places an unfair burden upon the heirs of Stalvart by requiring them to find their True Love, by means magical and irrefutable, such as True Love's Kiss, by their twenty-first birthday—"

Fanna held up a hand that stopped Benedikt short. "Do you know why the True Love Act was formed, Benny?" She left the table to stalk towards him.

Benedikt opened his mouth to reply but realized he didn't have the answer.

She pounced the moment she sensed his hesitation. "The Great King Oryn's father died while Stalvart was at war and when Oryn took the throne, he had no wife. Many years passed before the war ended, and Oryn was an old man when he wed his queen. They never produced an heir and the line ended. Lucky for us though, for then the crown fell upon our ancestors, and our forefathers passed the law that the heir must find his or her bride by their twenty-first birthday."

Fanna ruffled his hair and Benedikt let his face fall into a scowl. She was toying with him.

"The clause in the law that states you must find your irrefutable True Love by magic ensures lasting fidelity between you and your beloved," she said.

"But it is a barbaric stipulation. A man should be allowed to fall in love on his own terms," Benedikt interjected.

Fanna circled him. "I can understand your hesitation and the mounting pressure after fourteen failed attempts at True Love's Kiss, and if that is how you feel, then we shall put it to a vote. But I don't think we are asking very much of you, Benny-Boy. After all, this act has kept our family line intact for ages. And why would we risk letting you become an unmarried regent alongside King Sander with The Bane thriving in Fellheim? If war breaks out you won't have time to find your True Love."

Benedikt clenched his jaw at Fanna's pedantic tone and said nothing.

"Shall we vote then?" Fanna addressed the council members. They nodded silently in reply. "All in favor of repealing the True Love Act and casting aside a time-honored tradition, raise hands."

Benedikt got a suspicion that the council members knew not to incur Fanna's wrath from the nervous glances that passed between them. His stomach sank as not a soul raised their hand.

"Then it's settled," Fanna chirped, a self-satisfied smirk on her otherwise beautiful face. "Aren't you glad to have a cousin as the head of the council to advise you in such matters?" she asked with a mirthless laugh.

Benedikt turned on his heel and headed for the door. "'Glad' isn't quite how I would put it," he grumbled to himself once out of earshot.

~

The following morning, Prince Benedikt stood on one of the many docks that lined the harbor, a large three-masted schooner bobbed beside him. The previous evening his father had called a meeting of his advisors and Captain Grielle and her band. Together they'd drawn up a plan to get him to Bleakwood and back as soon and as safely as possible. All parties had quickly agreed traveling by sea would be the quickest way to traverse the first leg of the journey. King Sander donated the schooner and additional crewmembers to man the ship. They would navigate the fjord, as only Stalvarts knew how, and then once they reached the open ocean, they would travel south along the coast until they reached the city of Andor.

A large number of courtiers and countrymen alike lined the docks in support of the prince's latest journey. Benedikt pulled the red, fur-lined cloak a little closer to himself against the cold and stood idly next to his father as the crew loaded the remainder of supplies onto the ship. Once the last barrel was rolled up the gangplank, Prince Benedikt joined Captain Grielle and her Liberators at the bulwark. Benedikt gave his people a lopsided smile and lifted his hand to them as a gesture to say "goodbye."

The crew untethered the ship from its dock and the crowd raised a hearty cheer.

"Prepare to make sail," Captain Grielle said, loud enough for the crew to hear. She then called out a long list of complex orders that seemed like a foreign language to Benedikt. He felt terribly out of place as crew members hurried past him, all finding something to occupy their hands. He'd rather have taken a horse through the mountains as he had done on previous journeys.

"Your Highness," she yelled, "grab a halyard and put your weight on it! We need all hands to get the mainsheet up."

Benedikt straightened and shuffled about. He wasn't entirely sure what a halyard was. No one had ever asked him to help aboard a ship before. He tried desperately to lay his eyes on something that might look like a halyard, but he only felt more and more foolish. Captain Grielle crossed the deck and grabbed a rope and handed it to Benedikt. She helped him pull up the sail, her hands above his.

"Now watch this." She pulled the rope to a wooden peg on the deck. "Wrap it once around the cleat and then make two figure eights, understood?" Grielle looked up at Benedikt. He watched her hands deftly secure the line.

He nodded his head in reply. "Thanks, and thank you for your service," he replied, fumbling for a way to express his gratitude.

She raised a confused eyebrow at him. "Sure, I guess. Just watch out for the boom, Your Highness."

At that moment the wind caught the full sail and the large piece of wood that held the bottom of the sail taught swung towards them. She pushed Benedikt's head down and they both let the boom pass over their hunched backs. They straightened on the other side.

"Thanks again," Benedikt said. He held himself a little taller now that he and Grielle were nose to nose, and he was only a hair taller than her.

"Right," she replied, eyeing him again. Assessing him.

Benedikt cheeks burned. Why did her gaze have to fluster him so?

With the sails full, the wind pushed the schooner away from its mooring. Benedikt watched the figures of his parents grow smaller as the ship drifted across the water. His stomach jumped with the simultaneous joy of a new quest and nervousness at having to find and kiss another Princess. But perhaps it was just seasickness. The schooner passed through the towering bears, onward into the winding fjords. No turning back.

~

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you are all enjoying the edited version. What's your favorite part so far? Let me know in the comments!