"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!”

That night, Ari stormed into the palace garden, her heeled shoes crunching against the gravel path with a fury that scared a pair of doves out of a nearby hedge. She hadn't bothered changing out of her trial gown, which was still damp at the hem from her adventure in the reflecting pool and bore a suspicious tea stain that the attendants had tried very hard to pretend wasn't there.

She reached the far wall of the garden, hidden behind the climbing roses and the old stone fountain that burbled quietly to itself, and she sat down hard on a stone bench. Then she pulled off her remaining shoe and stared at it.

One shoe.

She had walked half the Trial of Grace and Poise with one shoe.

She groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

"Of all the things," she muttered to herself, "of all the completely unhinged, unexplainable, impossible things that have ever happened to me…" She lifted her head and looked up at the night sky stretched out above the garden wall, stars bright like a painting. "This is easily the worst."

She pulled the tiara off her head, which had been digging into her skull since the attendants had pinned it there at breakfast, and turned it over in her hands. It was heavy for something so small. All those tiny diamonds catching the moonlight, winking like they were in on some joke she didn't understand.

She threw it into the nearest rosebush.

There was a satisfying crunch of leaves. Then silence.

"To be fair, it didn't really suit you anyway."

Ari shot to her feet, spinning around.

Brad was leaning against the garden wall, half in shadow, arms folded across his chest. He had changed out of his ceremonial armor and was wearing something simpler, a plain linen shirt and dark trousers, and without all the royal regalia he looked startlingly like himself. Like the Brad she had known before everything went sideways.

She almost said something about that. Then she remembered the ice cream parlor. Trinity's laugh. The vanilla milkshake.

She crossed her arms instead. "Were you following me?"

"No. I come here when I need to think." He nodded toward the stone bench she had just vacated. "That bench is mine, actually. I found it two days ago." He paused. "You can have it, though. You look like you need it more."

Ari didn't sit back down. Then her shoulders dropped, just slightly, because she was exhausted and her feet hurt and she was standing in a medieval fantasy kingdom in a tea-stained gown and she simply did not have the energy for a fight.

She sat back down on the bench.

Brad came and sat beside her, a careful distance between them, elbows resting on his knees. For a while neither of them said anything, only watching a moth orbit one of the garden lanterns.

"You don't want to be here," Brad said. It wasn't a question.

"No," Ari said flatly.

"Neither do I."

She looked at him sideways. "What?"

He exhaled through his nose, looking down at his hands. "You think this was my idea? Being paraded around like some prize at a state fair? Having two kingdoms watching every move I make to decide whether I'm worth marrying into?" He shook his head. "Trust me, Ari. This was not on my agenda."

She blinked. She hadn't actually considered that.

"Then why are you going along with it?" she demanded.

"Because I'm a prince. Apparently. In this reality. And princes don't have much more say than princesses." He paused. "Actually, I'm not sure they have any say at all. The Duke of something-or-other gave me a forty-minute lecture this morning about diplomatic duty. I stopped listening after the first twenty and he didn't notice."

Ari almost laughed. She stopped herself, mostly out of stubbornness.

"I want to go home," she said quietly, and the words came out softer than she intended. She missed it--the chaos, the sticky kitchen counter and the dog-eared homework and Bree's ballet shoes in the hallway and Tyler's muddy cleats by the door. She missed the life she had been quietly desperate to escape from for one single evening, and now would give anything to have back. "My brother has soccer practice. My sister needs someone to walk her to the bus stop. I have a history paper due Friday, and it's probably Thursday now, or maybe it isn't, I don't even know how time works here--"

"Hey." Brad's voice was gentle.

She stopped.

"I know," he said simply.

She looked at him and felt something complicated move through her chest, something that remembered who they had been before everything got hard and strange and full of static.

"I can't just do nothing," she said. "I can't keep tripping over this dress and dumping tea on people and losing to Trinity on her home turf. I'll go insane."

"Then stop playing her game."

Ari frowned. "What game?"

Brad sat up straighter. "Think about it. The Queen designed these trials, right? The whole thing. The outfits, the tests, the rules. And all of those rules are made for one kind of princess. Basically Trinity in a tiara. That's what the whole setup expects."

"So I'm set up to fail," Ari said.

"No," Brad said. "You managed Tyler and Bree for a whole year while your parents traveled," he continued. "You organized the school supply drive when the student council fell apart. You learned how to fix the boiler in your house because no one else was going to do it." He paused. "You're not bad at being a princess. You're bad at being the kind of princess they're trying to make you."

Ari stared at him.

She had walked into this thing furious and humiliated, desperate to get out, playing defense the entire time. Trying to walk gracefully in someone else's shoes: literally, since she was down one, currently sitting somewhere in a reflecting pool.

She thought about the old woman from her town square, who had smiled like she knew exactly what she was doing when she handed over that daffodil.

Intent matters little. Magic listens.

She hadn't meant to issue a challenge. But she had said, very clearly and very loudly, that princesses were useless, without thinking it all the way through. And now she was here.

So what did she actually believe?

She thought about Tyler asking what a samurai was. About Bree bouncing on her heels asking about princesses and Ari telling her they were useless.

Ari sat up straight. "What if the trials don't have to be about you?" she said slowly. "What if instead of trying to win your hand, I compete to show them what a princess should actually look like?"

Brad was quiet for a moment. "Go on."

"The Queen said this is about prosperity for the kingdom. Right? That's the whole frame. The marriage is supposed to ensure it." She was on her feet now, pacing. "But no one has actually asked the kingdom what it needs. No one walked into the city. No one talked to anyone who isn't noble." She gestured broadly at the garden wall, and beyond it, the city. "I saw the flower cart vendor setting up this morning in the square. Did anyone ask her? Did anyone ask the people in those windows?"

"No," Brad shrugged. "No, I don't think they did."

"Then that's what I'm going to do," Ari said. "I'm not fighting for your hand. No offense."

"None taken," he said, and the edge of his mouth curved.

"I'm going to find out what this kingdom actually needs and I'm going to make a case for it. Trial by trial. And if they want a princess, I'll give them one." She looked at him squarely. "Will you help me?"

"I know the castle's layout," he said. "I've been exploring since I got here. I can get you into the parts of the palace the attendants won't show you. The old records, the steward's quarters, the city gate."

"That's a start," Ari said.

"I can also," he added, reaching into the rosebush and retrieving her tiara with more dignity than it deserved, "give this back, since you're apparently going to need it."

She took it, then, slowly placed it back on her head. It still dug into her skull, but this time, she didn't mind quite so much.