"Would you rather be a samurai? Or a ninja?" asked Tyler.

"That's easy," Ari laughed, "I'd be a ninja this way I could sneak out of math class undetected and look way cool while doing it."

Ari's parents were out of town for the night which meant Ari was in charge. Which meant on top of homework, and work work, Ari also had to juggle everything else that came with babysitting her brother and sister. Normally she wouldn't mind, but Bree had ballet practice. Which meant she might bump into him. But so far so good. And walking down the town square playing would you rather with her siblings Ari could almost forget about that jerk.

"What's a samurai?" Ari heard Bree ask.

"Like a knight but from Japan."

"Okay. I'll chose that. Oh! I have one!" her sister Bree bounced as she skipped ahead, "Would you rather be a unicorn? Or a princess?"

As Tyler groaned Ari saw exactly who she was hoping to avoid.

"Seriously? I can't answer that." Tyler moaned.

"Why not?"

Ari didn't hear his answer. Across the plaza sitting inside the ice cream parlor on break was Brad was sitting across the table from the principal's daughter, Trinity Baylor. The "princess" of Glover High.

"Princess," Ari scoffed, "No way," she spit out as she glared at the window of the ice cream parlor. She bet they ordered a vanilla milkshake with triple chocolate. That's the one Brad always used to impress.

It impressed Ari too. Her heart panged at the reminder.

"Why?" Bree looked up at Ari in confusion.

"I hate princesses," Ari glared as Trinity laughed at something Brad said.

"Why? What's wrong with Princesses?" Bree crossed her arms as she glared at Ari.

"Princesses are lame. They don't do anything but look pretty and sit on their plush thrones while getting pampered and wait for a prince to come save them. They can't do anything themselves, they're useless." just like that "princess" of Glover High.

"I wouldn't know about that," said a kindly old woman pushing a cart of flowers, "I know esPrincesses do much more then that."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Ari crossed her arms as she looked down on the old lady.

The lady's eye color shifted in the light as she blinked, taken aback by Ari's attitude.

"Why. princess do so much for their kingdom. They help the poor, they attend matters of state, organize events."

Ari tried not to roll her eyes at that answer.

"So they get good publicity and throw fancy parties in hope to marry the next man to up their parents power and standing? Yeah, that's really something."

"Ari..." Tyler warned her.

"What?" Ari glared at him.

The lady paused as she observed Ari with her piercing blue-grey eyes. Under other circumstances Ari would have thought they were pretty. But under all the scrutiny they looked creepy.

"I'm not going to change your mind am I."

"No way no how. Nothing's going to change my mind."

"Is that a challenge?" the edge of her lips curved into a smile.

"Yeah, sure" Ari tried not to roll her eyes.

"Very well then," the lady plucked a daffodil off her stand and offered it to Ari.

"Thanks?" Ari slowly accepted the flower from her.

"I'll let you all go on your way now. Thank you for the chat. Good day now," the lady waved at them then began to whistle as she pushed her cart back on her way.

It wasn't until much later after the chores were done and the kiddos were put to bed, that Ari remembered the encounter with the old lady.

As she put the Daffodil in a cup of water by her bedside table Ari couldn't help but think of the way the old lady had given the flower. Almost like the twinkle in her eyes said challenge accepted. Now that her mood subsided hours later she did feel a little bad about being so testy with her. But when it came down to it Ari stood by what she said.

Princesses were useless.

With that thought Ari shifted over until she lay on her side facing the window.

Before she closed her eyes she caught sight of a shooting star. Funny, Ari thought before drifting off. If she didn't know any better she would have thought that shooting star was heading straight towards her.

When Ari woke up she didn't want to leave the bed. It felt like she was sinking in a cloud and she didn't ever want to leave. She must still be dreaming. Plus her alarm didn't go off so she was good...

But Tyler had soccer practice!

With a jolt Ari sprung up into a sitting position.

"What the?"

Ari wasn't in her room. In fact she wasn't even in her house.

She was sitting in the biggest king sized bed she had ever seen, with comfy satin blankets embroidered with flowers. But the rest of the bedroom was as big as the first floor of her house. With opulent golden vases and beautifully crafted furniture engraved with gold songbirds and flowers. And white curtains letting in the light from the door to a balcony. It looked like the perfect room fit for a-

"No..." Ari's eyes went wide. Her eyes turned to the opulent side table where the daffodil now sit in a beautifully sculpted vase.

It looked like a room meant for a princess.

Ari jolted again when the bedroom door burst open.

“Your Highness! You’re awake!”

Ari blinked at the woman in a crisp blue gown who rushed in, curtseying so low Ari thought she might snap in half.

“Uh… hi?” Ari offered.

The woman gasped. “Your voice! So humble. So grounded. Truly, Princess Ariadne, you are a blessing to our kingdom.”

Princess.

There it was again.

Ari groaned and flopped back into the mountain of pillows. “Nope. No way. I’m dreaming. This is a stress dream. Too much homework. Too much babysitting. Too much Brad—”

The thought of him made her stomach twist, but before she could dwell on it, the woman clapped her hands sharply.

“Prepare the Princess for the Royal Announcement!”

Ari sat up. “The what now?”

But she didn’t get an answer. A swarm of attendants swept in, pulling her out of bed, brushing her hair, draping her in a gown so sparkly she felt like a disco ball. By the time they finished, Ari barely recognized herself.

She was marched through marble halls and out onto a balcony overlooking a massive courtyard filled with cheering citizens. Standing at the center of it all, wearing a crown of gold and daffodils, was the old woman from the flower cart. Her hair was long and silver, her posture regal, her eyes the same piercing blue-grey, glowing with unmistakable authority.

“Mom?” Ari whispered.

The Queen smiled. “Ariadne, my daughter. Welcome home.”

Ari’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

The Queen raised her hands, addressing the crowd. “Today marks the beginning of the Prosperity Trials! A sacred tradition in which our princess must compete for the hand of Prince Bradley of the Western Kingdom. His marriage will unite our lands and ensure peace and prosperity for generations!”

Ari’s stomach plummeted as her eyes followed the Queen's outstretched hand.

Prince Bradley?

No. No way.

He wore royal armor, a ceremonial sash, cloaked in golds and blues, highlighting his strong shoulders like his varsity jacket used to. Standing beside him, wearing a gown that sparkled like starlight and a tiara that could blind someone, was Trinity Baylor. She tossed her perfect curls and waved at the crowd like she’d been born doing it.

“And competing for the prince’s hand,” the Queen continued, “are Princess Ariadne of the Eastern Kingdom… and Princess Trinity of the Southern Kingdom!”

Trinity smirked at Ari with a look that said good luck, peasant.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

The Queen leaned toward her. “You accepted the challenge, Ariadne. Now you must see it through.”

“That wasn’t a challenge!” Ari hissed. “That was a hypothetical argument with a flower vendor!”

“Intent matters little,” the Queen said serenely. “Magic listens.”

Ari groaned. “I hate magic.”

The Queen smiled. “You’ll learn to appreciate it.”

Ari had barely finished choking down a breakfast of “royal porridge” (which tasted suspiciously like her grandma's oatmeal cookies) when the palace trumpets blared.

“Presenting the first Prosperity Trial,” announced a herald with a voice so dramatic it could shatter glass, “The Trial of Grace and Poise!”

Ari groaned. “Oh great. My two strongest qualities.”

A pair of attendants ushered her toward a massive courtyard transformed into an assault obstacle course of elegance: velvet carpets like mud crawls, marble steps like hurdles. A few floating lanterns hung in the air. Ari looked at her dress, all trailing lace and blue taffeta. All that fire suspended in the air started to look more like primed grenades. A fountain shaped like a swan spat water in a perfect arc.

She rolled her shoulders (or tried to: the dress was more restrictive than it looked, and the strapless off-the-shoulder design meant she couldn't roll them all the way for fear of indecent exposure). She had been in cadets. she could do this.

“Good luck, Ariadne,” Trinity said sweetly. “Try not to fall on your face.”

Ari forced a smile. “Thanks. Try not to choke on your own ego.”

The Queen raised her hands. “The Trial of Grace and Poise shall test each princess’s ability to move with elegance, dignity, and composure. You will walk the Path of Royal Virtue. You must not stumble, spill, or falter.”

Ari squinted. “Spill?”

A servant stepped forward holding a silver tray with a teacup balanced on it.

“Oh no,” Ari whispered.

“Oh yes,” Trinity purred.

The Queen continued, “You must walk the path, descend the marble steps, cross the reflecting pool, greet the nobles, and present your tea to Prince Bradley at the end, with not a drop wasted, spilled or otherwise disappeared.”

Trinity glided forward like a swan on ice, arm arced like a swan's necked, angle perfect as the tray rested atop her manicured fingertips. Ari took one step and immediately caught her shoe on the hem of her gown.

“Strong start,” Ari muttered to herself, trying to ignore the murmuring of the crowd and the heat rising in her cheeks.

She took another step. The teacup sloshed dangerously.

“Okay. Easy. Slow. Don’t think about how everyone is watching you. Don’t think about how Trinity looks like she’s floating. Don’t think about—”

She thought about it, and immediately tripped, kitten heel now snagging in the lace of her dress and tripping her up again. Landing against a pillar, she tried to find purchase, but the velvet carpeting slid backwards to reveal shining, glistening marble, slippery as oil. The pillar hit the floor with an almighty crash, and she thanked God that, for the minute, Trinity's perfection had led to all eyes on her. Ari's blunder went nearly unnoticed as she hurried onto the next section: a long, shallow pool with stepping stones arranged in a graceful path, Trinity already three steps away from the bank on the other end.

Ari stepped onto the first stone and immediately wobbled.

“Okay. Balance. I can do balance. I’ve done yoga. Once.”

She stepped to the next stone, but her shoe flew off and splashed into the water, loosened by its earlier debacle caught in the train of her gown.

“Great,” Ari muttered. “One shoe. Very graceful. Very poised.”

She hopped the rest of the way until she reached the bank, where a line of nobles stood waited to be greeted.

Trinity bowed with perfect form, her gown flowing like a waterfall, and Ari tried to mirror her, leaning forward until--the tea launched from her tray like a tiny caffeinated missile, landing directly onto the boots of a very important-looking duke.

Ari froze.

The Queen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“The winner of the Trial of Grace and Poise,” the herald announced, “is Princess Trinity of the Western Kingdom!”

Time slowed down. Ari looked down at her shining dress, now splattered with little drops of tea. Then at the Duke's ostentatiously decorated boots, which had been white and gold a few moments ago but were now stained reddish-brown. At the far end of the line, Trinity smirked at her, then turned around with a very princess-ly flick of her hand and walked away to where Prince Bradley was waiting. Most of the nobles watched her go, oohing and aahing. Ari clenched her fist--had she really just messed up that badly?

She snapped back to reality, realizing not all the nobles were fixated on Trinity. The Duke glowered at her from behind a bushy beard, eyes darting from her to his ruined boots, then back to her with a burning anger.

Under his gaze, Ari felt like shrinking and running away. This guy was obviously important, and maybe he was going to have her head cut off. No way she was going to win this stupid princess contest after this embarassment. Maybe she should just give up and try to find another way out of this magic world.

The Duke cleared his throat, his hand reaching down for a saber hanging on his belt. Ari looked back at the stepping stones. She could run away--with those fancy boots, he wouldn't be able to follow her across the slippery rocks. She took one step backwards.

Suddenly, she remembered being at the neighborhood cafe with Tyler a couple of weeks ago while Bree was at ballet practice. They had gotten ice cream cones, and her brother had dropped his right on the chair before he could eat any. The cafe owner had come over, checking in on the commotion, and Tyler had been a nervous wreck, hiding behind Ari. He'd been worried that they would get banned from the cafe for life, and it would all be his fault.

"Don't worry," Ari had told him. "Most people are good people. Just say you're sorry."

She took a deep breath, looking the Duke right in his eyes. "I'm so sorry about your boots," she said earnestly.

He lifted his hand off his sword, but the scowl on his face deepened. "These were my favorite boots!" he growled. "Cobbled from minotaur leather by the shoemaker elves of the Greenwoods! And you've ruined them with your clumsy attempt at bowing!"

Ari didn't let herself flinch. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I don't know if you can tell, but I'm new to this whole princess thing. I'm doing my best, but I've never had to bow or serve tea before. It's not as easy as I thought it would be." She looked down at her own feet. "And hey, if it makes you feel better, I lost my own shoe too."

The Duke just stared for a long second. "Princess Ariadne, do you mean to say this makes us even?" he said in a flat, monotone voice.

"I don't know. It's still my fault your boots have tea on them." The longer she looked at the splashes she had caused, the more another thought crossed her mind. The way the splashes radiated out from the central impact point reminded her of one of her favorite tie-dye tees. "Where I come from, we have this thing called tie-dye. It's where clothes can have random splatters of color on them but still be beautiful."

For a long moment, she wondered if she had gone too far. It wasn't too late to run away and leave the situation. Then the Duke began to laugh, and a wave of relief shot through her whole body.

"Princess Ariadne," he huffed, "you are a skilled diplomat indeed! Only the shrewdest of politicians could start to convince me that my boots are more beautiful with stains on them. Perhaps you have a great career ahead after all." His eyes twinkled playfully. "Only, do not ever come near me with a cup of tea again."

"I won't," Ari promised.

The Duke extended his hand. "Duke Farrington of Fairview."

She shook it. "...Princess Ariadne, of the Eastern Kingdom." Then she headed back towards the court, walking barefoot across the grass with her one remaining shoe in her hand. Trinity chatted with Brad up ahead, all animated gestures and sparkles, but Ari couldn't hear what she said. Somewhere in the back of her ears, a quiet voice spoke to her.

Well done, Princess. It can be hard to handle a difficult social interaction with grace and poise, but kingdoms rise and fall on these subtle tides.

A trumpet sounded ahead, and the Queen's voice rang out across the courtyard. "Prepare the princesses for their second Trial!"

The herald's voice rang out across the courtyard. "Presenting the second Prosperity Trial — The Trial of Diplomacy!"

Ari had exactly thirty seconds to swap her one remaining heel for a pair of silk slippers (an upgrade, honestly) before she was ushered into a grand hall with ceilings so tall she half expected clouds to form up there. Two long tables faced each other across a polished floor. At one sat a delegation of stern-faced men and women in dark robes: the Northern Envoys, an attendant whispered to her. At the other, Ari and Trinity were to sit opposite them.

"Each princess," the Queen announced from her throne at the head of the room, "will negotiate a trade agreement with the Northern Delegation. You have one hour. The delegation will judge which offer is most favorable to all parties."

Trinity smoothed her gown and smiled at the envoys like she'd been born doing this too. Which, Ari supposed, maybe she had. Ari looked at the delegation. They looked back at her. One of them had the exact same expression Mr. Hendricks wore whenever Ari turned in homework late.

"Fantastic," Ari muttered.

Trinity went first.

She was, Ari had to admit, annoyingly good at this. She spoke in smooth, confident sentences, offering grain shipments, silk roads, and favorable tariffs with the practiced ease of someone who had memorized every word from a textbook called How to Be Perfect at Everything. The delegation nodded along. A few of them even smiled.

When it was Ari's turn, she sat down across from a woman named Envoy Castellan, who had iron-grey hair and the eyes like a hawk.

"Princess Ariadne," the Envoy said. "What does the Eastern Kingdom offer?"

Ari opened the folder an attendant had shoved into her hands on the way in. It was full of numbers she didn't understand, maps she couldn't read, and a hand-drawn illustration of a goat for reasons she couldn't determine. She closed the folder.

"Can I ask you something first?" Ari said.

Envoy Castellan blinked. Clearly, nobody had asked her something first before. "You may."

"What does the North actually need? Like, not what's on the list of things we're supposed to offer. What's the real problem?"

A long silence stretched across the table. One of the other envoys leaned over and whispered something. Envoy Castellan's expression shifted slightly, a crack in the marble.

"Our eastern roads," she said carefully, "have fallen into disrepair. Trade carts cannot reach our mountain villages before the first frost. Our people go without goods for the whole of winter."

Ari leaned forward. "So it's a timing problem, not a supply problem."

"...In essence."

"Okay. So what if instead of just sending more grain, we sent stonemasons? Then your carts can actually get through, and you won't need emergency supply drops that cost both sides a fortune."

"That," said a previously silent envoy at the end of the table, a young man who'd been scowling since the beginning, "is not how it's done."

"I know," Ari said. "But does it solve the problem?"

He considered this with great reluctance. "...It would."

Envoy Castellan studied Ari for a long moment with those cataloguing eyes. Then, for the first time, something in her expression softened into something that wasn't quite a smile but was at least a smile's close cousin.

"You are not what I expected," she said.

"Yeah," Ari said. "I get that a lot."

When the delegation retired to deliberate, Trinity drifted over to Ari with her arms folded and her chin tilted at the particular angle that was indifference incarnate.

"You didn't even use the briefing folder," Trinity said.

"The goat drawing wasn't helping me."

Trinity's eyes narrowed. "You know this is serious. A real kingdom."

Ari looked at her. "I know."

And the strange thing was, she did. Somewhere between the stepping stones and the tea-stained boots and Envoy Castellan's cracked marble expression, something had shifted. This wasn't about Brad, it wasn't even about beating Trinity. The Northern villages needed roads before the frost came. That was real. Or at least, whatever real meant in a world with magic flower carts and shooting stars.

The trumpet sounded before Trinity could reply.

The herald stepped forward, unrolling his scroll with great ceremony. "The Northern Delegation has reached a verdict. The offer they find most favorable is…"

Ari held her breath.

"A tie."

Trinity blinked.

The herald continued: "The Delegation commends Princess Trinity for her thorough and well-prepared proposal. They commend Princess Ariadne for identifying the true need behind the negotiation. Both qualities, they note, are essential in a leader."

From her throne, the Queen said nothing. But the corner of her mouth curved upward. Duke Farrington, seated in the gallery above, caught her eye and raised a goblet in a small, quiet toast. His boots, Ari noticed, had been replaced. But on the cuff of his sleeve, she spotted a faint reddish-brown smudge. Like he'd kept a small reminder.

She almost smiled, until, as if on cue, an attendant appeared at Ari's elbow.

"Your Highness," the attendant whispered, "there's been an incident in the village. The baker's guild and the weavers are at each other's throats again. The Queen has asked that one of the princesses go and sort it out."

Ari looked across the room. Trinity was already surrounded by advisors, deep in conversation.

Ari stood up and smoothed her dress. "I'll go."

As the attendant led Ari through the castle gates into the village beyond, she breathed a sigh of relief. The castle was pretty, sure, with its many exquisitely decorated rooms and chambers, but it didn't feel comfortable. The village, with its cobblestone streets and Tudor houses with thatched roofs, felt much more real. People milled around, doing housework and chatting with each other. She passed by herb gardens and clotheslines with clothes laid out to dry.

One woman emptied a chamber pot from a second-story window right where Ari had been standing two seconds ago. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, checking the bottom of her dress to make sure it was clean. "Watch where you're slinging that muck!" the attendant shouted.

The woman stuck out her tongue in return--then bit it back when she saw Ari. "Your Highness!" she exclaimed. "Forgive me."

Ari wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that, so she just said, "Yeah, I forgive you." Since when was she concerned about how her dress looked? Since I got transported to medieval times and people don't know what public sanitation is. Gross.

She shuddered and made her way to the baker's guild, located in a tall, round building. It smelled amazing--like donuts and baguettes and cupcakes all combined into one sugary, floury, buttery mix that made Ari hungry just thinking about it. As she closed her eyes to take a huge sniff, she heard shouting and clattering inside.

"Grain-munching croutons!" shrieked one voice. "What, are you too busy kneading dough to help us out?"

"Maybe if you didn't have wool for brains, you'd understand!" yelled a second voice gruffly.

Ari sighed and looked at the attendant. "These guys?" she asked. He nodded, a look of exasperation on his face that said he'd listened to this tirade one too many times. With another exasperated sigh, he left Ari on her own to deal with it.

She walked inside to a scene of chaos. Two huge craftsmen stood in the center of the room, one brandishing a rolling pin and the other with a big, sharp spindle hanging from his belt. Around the edges of the room, a group of bakers tried to go about their daily business like normal, but they kept getting distracted by the argument.

"We make bread!" the master baker shouted, slamming his rolling pin against his other hand. "We feed the kingdom! All you do is make dresses so people can look pretty!"

"No one eats just bread!" answered the master weaver. "There are other foods--porridge, cheese, pasta! We make clothing so no one freezes to death in the winter!"

"Can everyone please shut up?" Ari screamed.

Silence. The guildmasters stared at her, and the bakers stopped whatever they were doing. Suddenly the center of attention, she gulped and stood up straight the way she had learned in cadets.

"What is all of this about?" she demanded. "You're professionals. You should act like it."

Both of them started talking at once, drowning each other's words out. Ari couldn't make out a thing.

"Stop!" She pointed at the master baker, then the master weaver. "You explain first. Then you."

The master baker side-eyed the master weaver. "They're taking our suppliers! We want to make mutton pies, but the sheep farmers are--"

"Y our suppliers?" The master weaver took the spindle off his belt and brandished it. "They were our suppliers first! Mutton pies are a newfangled invention that won't last more than a few years!"

Ari rolled her eyes. "Guys, you're using the sheep for different things, don't you think there's a compromise--"

"Everyone knows we get everything from the farmers!" the master baker roared. "You let the weavers have a monopoly on sheep, what's next? Basket makers taking all the wheat stalks? Carpenters taking all the apple groves to make chairs?"

"No, probably not," Ari said matter-of-factly. "You're blowing this way out of proportion. You could both get what you need from the shepherds."

"And what does a princess know about what the common-born people need?" the master weaver demanded.

The master baker stepped toward Ari threateningly, rolling pin in hand. "You may rule the kingdom from your castle, with your fancy parties and pretty dresses--" he scowled at the master weaver-- "but in my guildhall, I'm the one in charge. I'd recommend you get out of here before you say something you'll regret."

"Just think about it," she said. "Please."

The master baker just glared. Ari left the guildhall and sat down across the street on a bench, breathing hard and inhaling the smell of flour. The guildmasters hadn't wanted to listen to her. They thought she didn't know how to help them because she was too busy being a princess. She wasn't even a princess! She hadn't asked to be here. Well, technically she had, but that didn't count. She hadn't even realized she would get teleported to a magical world!

"Stupid medieval sexism," she muttered. "Stupid flower lady and her stupid princess challenge." Then she buried her face in her hands and bit back tears. Not sobbing, but something close to it. She wasn't sure how long she sat there like that. Another chamber pot splashed down a few houses away.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Princess Ariadne, is that you? What's wrong?"

She looked up to see Brad--Prince Bradley--who had traded his royal armor for an equally stunning blue and gold coat and cape. His bright blue eyes were soft as he looked at her with concern.

She practically stopped breathing.