And then I don’t know what the heck got into me.
“Well, if you’re not going to help your brother, I will!” Pushing off Neel’s back, I slid from the dark horse and ran at the rakkhosh. Unfortunately, I only reached the monster’s waist. I grabbed Lal’s sword, which had fallen from his limp hands, and stabbed the hairy demon in the foot.
“Let him go, halitosis-head!”
Some instinct told me to plunge the sword into the soft spots between the demon’s toes. I was scared, but felt something else besides fear coursing through my veins. Something brave and strong and heady. Like I’d been fighting rakkhosh all my life instead of doing inventory on two-liter soda bottles and pine tree–shaped car deodorizers.
“Princess smells like yummy pickles!” the demon snarled. “Stop it! Stop it! Ooo, that tickles!”
I felt the monster grab my hood. “You best not rip my favorite sweatshirt, you drooling toad!” Sure enough, as the monster lifted me up, I heard the material start to tear.
I hung from the monster’s fingers ten feet above the ground. I kicked my legs, swinging my sword in a wild arc. Lal, still hanging unconscious, was suddenly very close.
“Here, horsey! Come catch your master!” I sliced through Lal’s tangled sash, freeing him. The unconscious prince plummeted toward the earth.
Luckily, the monster was too occupied with me to worry about Lal, and too shortsighted to see the winged horse that swooped up, catching him on its snow-white back.
“Good job, Snowy!” I could have sworn the horse smiled at me as it flew back toward where Neel and the black horse still stood at the far end of the lawn.
As the rakkhosh lifted me face-high, it was hard not to faint at the smell coming from its mouth. Holding my breath, I took aim at its teeny, bloodshot eye and stabbed the sword forward with all my might. Unfortunately, sword fighting wasn’t on the curriculum at Alexander Hamilton Middle School, and my aim wasn’t exactly perfect. I looked in horror as Lal’s weapon lodged itself right in the middle of the monster’s bulbous nose, resulting in yellow streams of rakkhosh snot streaming out of both nostrils.
“Barf!” I yelled as the monster’s sinuses drained all over me. “Neel, anytime now, some help would be awesome!”
If it was possible, the monster looked even more furious. “Princess mean, but she’ll be sweet! Princess meat is good to eat!”
I was done for—abandoned by my parents, covered in rakkhosh snot, and about to be eaten. This was the worst birthday ever!
The rakkhosh lowered me toward its toothy mouth.
Just then, something glinted by me with a swish. It grazed my arm and cheek before getting stuck upright between the demon’s lips. My right sleeve was sliced open. The side of my face felt on fire, and not because I was blushing. I realized what it was. Neel’s sword.
“Gaak!” The monster thrashed around, grabbing its mouth. In its confusion, it dropped me, and I fell toward the hard ground. If only my dad hadn’t savaged all signs of life from our lawn, I thought as I plummeted to my doom, maybe there would be something there to cushion my landing.
“Yagh!” I yelled, or something like it. “Yeek! Yegads!”
Somebody’s strong arm grabbed me around my waist. It was Neel, flying up on the back of his black steed. He threw me in front of him, swinging me over the horse like a sack of potatoes.
Now, if you’ve never flown on the back of a winged horse like that, I don’t recommend it. It’s not just the ungraceful butt-in-air aspect, it’s the mouthful of sweaty horsehair you get in the bargain. Technically, I guess Prince Neel swept me off my feet. Actually, it was the exact opposite of the gallant rescuing you read about in fairy tales.
There was an awful wailing and crashing, which I learned later (I was still doing a face-plant in the side of a horse at the time) was the rakkhosh—with one sword protruding from its nose, one trapped in its open mouth—flailing around. Finally, it tripped over a tree trunk and fell with a shaking crash to the ground.
“Somebody’s gonna have a terrible migraine!” Neel drawled as he dismounted.
I managed to slide ungracefully off the horse, holding my aching ribs. It was a relief to see the demon lying across my lawn, out cold.
“I was doing fine there without you, Mr. Late-to-the-Show!” I snapped at Neel. “You didn’t need to swoop in at the last moment and do the whole princely rescue shtick.”
Neel gave me a hard look that made my face warm. Then he looked at my torn sweatshirt and my now exposed right upper arm. He raised his eyebrows, but only said, “You’re welcome.”
Humiliation washed over me. I hated people seeing my scars. I tugged the torn material over the freakish mark and glared back at him, imagining little daggers coming out of my eyes.
With a most casual air, Neel walked up to the rakkhosh, plucked his own slobbery sword from the monster’s mouth, and then retrieved Lal’s sword from its nose. He handed the weapon to his brother, who was just waking up.
“Werewevictoriousbrother?” Lal slurred.
“Yup.” Neel got super busy cleaning off his slimy sword on a leafless hedge. “You completely kicked that demon’s butt, Bro.” Then he glanced up at me. “With a little help from this one.”
“Whatever.” I mopped up the blood on my cheek with my sleeve. I didn’t like being called “this one” almost as much as I didn’t like getting nearly decapitated with a sword. Even by somebody who saved my life.
Neel put his sword into a sheath I hadn’t noticed on his back, and petted his horse’s sleek nose. It was like he’d totally forgotten about the rakkhosh. And why was he lying to Lal and not taking credit for defeating the demon?
“Aren’t you going to … uh … kill it?” I asked in a low voice. Whether adults could see it or not, how I was going to explain an unconscious demon on our front lawn was beyond me.
Neel shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not really into the whole rakkhosh-killing business; that’s all a little too show-offy for me.” He nodded at his brother. “There’s only room for one storybook hero in this family.”
I saw something twitch in Neel’s face—what was that, jealousy? But that couldn’t be right. Neel was bigger and tougher than Lal and definitely—by most people’s standards anyway—cooler. Maybe it was that Lal was more movie-star handsome? But that didn’t seem right either. Boys were weird.
“Come on, let’s go!” Neel urged. “That demon ain’t going to sleep forever.”
I bit my lip, suddenly super unsure.
“Lady.” Lal’s words were gentler than his brother’s. “I know this is all confusing right now, but you need to trust us.”