Unicorns? Get Real!

said.
    “Exactly!” Princess Gundersnap exclaimed. “Vot am I to do? Do I try and beat him or lose to him?”
    Kristen’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Come again! Did I hear you right? Beat him or lose to him? Is that a question? You beat him! Is the sun yellow? Is the grass green? The sky blue? Duh! You beat him.”
    “But it’s more complicated than that,” Gundersnap said.
    “How?”
    “Empress Mummy? This is truly a dilemma.”
    “What kind of dilemma?” Myrella asked.
    “A royal one,” Gundersnap said. “You see, I think I remember Empress Mummy talking about making a match between Glocknia, my third-oldest sister, and this prince’s older brother. If that happened, it would save her the trouble of an invasion. And if I beat him, it could ruin the prospects—Glocknia’s prospects, that is.”
    Kristen’s face crinkled into a grimace of pure disgust. “You cannot be expected to plan your sports around the possible marriages of your sisters and brothers.”
    Just then a tent maid sent by Lady Merry to remind the girls of their prayers entered. The three princesses scrambled from their beds and knelt. On this night each princess prayed to a different saint.
    Princess Alicia prayed to Raphael, who was not just a saint but also an archangel, the angel of romance and love. Princess Alicia had danced with at least twenty princes that night and she felt all fluttery inside. She just loved love.
    Princess Kristen prayed to Saint Sebastian, the patron saint of archers, to for heaven’s sake knock some sense into Gundersnap.
    And Princess Gundersnap prayed to her mother’s patron, Saint Elizabeth, the patron saint of the battlefield. “Please, revered lady, what would Empress Mummy have me do? I don’t want to spoil everything, but then again, I really love archery, and I really like Prince Haraldsvar. Do you think he would hate me if I beat him? Would Empress Mummy simply blow up if this wrecked Glocknia’s chances? What am I to do for the empire? What am I to do for myself? Just me? Will the prince like me more if I lose to him than beat him? And Menschmik—please, dear Lord, protect my dear pony.”

Chapter 18
    THE TOURNAMENT

    “Don’t switch bows, Gundersnap. You’re used to shooting with the Dreamcatcher Five Hundred.” Kristen had just burst into the archery tent where Gundersnap was being dressed for the tournament. Over a green and white striped flowing skirt, she wore a snappy darker green fitted jacket, and in her sports tiara there was a vivid red feather. Kristen proceeded to give her a pep talk.
    “Now I know you’re upset about Menschmik, but Gundersnap, you’re just going to have to put him out of your mind for a little bit. You need to concentrate on this tournament. You know, if you win it counts toward our points in Color Wars.”
    “It does?”
    “Yes. So you’re doing this for the Purples and not just yourself.” Gundersnap nodded solemnly. “And promise me there will be no more talk about not winning because of all that nonsense about your sister getting married and your mother’s invasion plans and all that.”
    Gundersnap nodded, but she knew it would be hard. Kristen took a step closer and looked her right in the eye. “Gundersnap, go out there and shoot!”
    Princess Gundersnap walked onto the archery field. She wore a quiver of arrows on her back. She carried her Dreamcatcher 500, and as she stepped up to the mark, she flexed it a few times. On one side of her was a prince whose name she did not know. On another side was Princess Parisiana, a fair shot, but not nearly as good as herself. Prince Haraldsvar was on the far side of Parisiana. A bugle was blown to announce that the first flight of arrows could begin.
    Princess Gundersnap closed her right eye. With her left eye, she looked through the little gap in the bow, the bow sight, focusing on the center ring of the target. “Grusschum, grusschum.” She repeated the word in her head. It meant “steady, steady” in Slobo. She raised her elbow and began to draw, then let loose the arrow. Not a bull’s-eye but close.
    Each contestant would shoot three full quivers of arrows. She was uneven on the first quiver, but by the second was improving steadily. And by the third quiver, she had advanced to second over all in the contest, just two arrows behind Prince Haraldsvar. She could feel Kristen’s eyes boring into her. But she could also hear an ominous rumbling voice in the back of her mind—the