Unicorns? Get Real!

particular a certain Prince Haraldsvar of Svarlandia.”
     
    “May I suggest, Milady, a traditional bow.” The archery master, Hawkins, held out a bow toward Gundersnap. “This one should be just the right size and shape for you. You say you’ve had experience with this one in contests before.”
    “Yes, sir,” she replied, and reached for the bow. Princess Gundersnap wore a rather ancient-looking armguard to protect the inside of her forearm from the slap of the bowstring when it was released.
    “But are you sure you would not prefer one of our newer model armguards? That one appears rather…er…” The archery master searched for the right words. “Rather used.”
    “Yes, by me. I like it,” Gundersnap replied, thus putting an end to the conversation.
    The targets had been set up, and at least half a dozen princesses stepped up to the marks. “Now remember, Miladies, the art of shooting requires five steps. To stand properly, to nock, to draw, to aim, and to loose.”
    It was all archery talk about fitting the arrow’s notch to the bowstring, pulling the string, aiming, and then letting go. But before the master had even finished his speech, Princess Gundersnap had let go.
    “Bull’s-eye!” someone cried. And sure enough, the arrow that the Princess of Slobodkonia had shot was quivering at the very center of the target.
    “Bravo! Bravo!” Gortle cried out.
    Hawkins himself was impressed. “A champion! I see a champion here. What form!” the archery master exclaimed. Then a nasty echo.
    “What form.” They all turned around. It was the Duchess of Bagglesnort. Her mouth curled into a smirk. “Yes, Princess. What form!” and she rolled her eyes. A nervous silence fell upon the archery field.
    “Ah yes.” Master Hawkins spoke nervously. “She has perfect arm placement on the release.”
    Gundersnap knew exactly what the Snort thought of her form. She thought Gundersnap was too squat and too chubby, had too many spots on her face, and had hair the color of mud.
    “Ah, but it takes more than perfect arm placement,” the duchess continued. “What about chubby arms? Well, at least sleeves, yes, bell-shaped sleeves will do the trick,” the duchess said, casting a severe eye up and down Gundersnap. “Gundersnap missed an important makeup session in the Salon de Beauté. If anyone needs extra help, it is the Princess of Slobodkonia. She is not…er”—the duchess hesitated—“a natural beauty.”
    “Madame.” Gortle stepped up to the duchess. “I would like to suggest—”
    “Suggest what, little one?”
    Gundersnap’s color rose and her eyes began to burn. Gortle raised his hand slightly and gave a sign of caution to Gundernsap. But the duchess did not see this. “There are many kinds of form. This is an archery field. This is where Gundersnap excels.”
    “Yes, little man, do go on.”
    A silence suddenly engulfed the archery field. Gortle, with a barely discernible tick of his head and sliding his eyes toward the princess, indicated that perhaps the duchess might want to look to her left as the Princess of Slobodkonia raised her bow and notched an arrow. Although Gundersnap did not point the bow at the duchess, deadly glints sharp as arrows shot from her eyes. The duchess paled. Gundersnap wheeled about and sent the arrow flying toward the target. “Bull’s-eye!” All the princesses whooped.

Chapter 12
    THE PRINCESS AND THE PIMPLE

    Despite the distractions of the preparations for the Full Moon Ball at Camp Burning Shield, Gundersnap had not stopped worrying about Menschmik. If anything, her worries had increased. How could she be consumed with such trifles as winning an archery contest, or such vanities as which crown jewels to wear with which ball gown, when her pony might lie dying on a distant battlefield? She almost resented the fact that her turretmates were so preoccupied with all the frivolous, pea-brained idiocy that seemed to accompany this venture to a stupid boys’ camp.
    “Gemluct fyrstucken grimpoken guzeiten phluglenspritz.” She was muttering soft curses to herself about this as she pawed distractedly through a small mountain of pearls that her maid had brought up for her to choose from when a shriek split the air. It came from Alicia’s chambers. Gundersnap, Kristen, and Myrella ran from their own chambers into Alicia’s. Alicia stood horrified in front of a mirror.
    “What is it, dear? What is it?” Lady Merry had managed to heave herself from her