TITLE: Real Princes Don't Wear Velvet
GENRE: Middle Grade Fantasy
It was all over in a second, really.
Lord Archibald, younger son of the Duke of Chestershire, let out a not-very-lordly ummmph as a damp rag clamped over his nose and mouth.
Archie tried to hold his breath as he was whisked off his feet with mortifying ease (at thirteen years of age he was, as his grandma put it, "a crying waste of perfectly good veal"). Kidnapping tricks hadn't changed much from the Stone, Dark, or Middle Ages, but they'd definitely improved the potion. The chemical scent flared up his nostrils and burned straight to his brain.
Everything went black.
When Archie opened his eyes, groggy and sick, the ground was galloping away under him. His hands were bound and his head was inside a sack, and his first thought was: Wonder what was in here before this?
A breath, then: I don't think I want to know.
That wasn't all.
Did he mention he was wearing a dressing gown? And it wasn't the normal one he brought to boarding school, made of exquisite hand-woven silk and entirely befitting of the son of a duke. But no. He was wearing his favorite cotton dressing gown, which he loved to wear back home. The one with little green clovers on it. And--small cornflower blue unicorns.
Archie cringed. At least they were blue. Blue unicorns were all right--weren't they? And no one would laugh if his body turned up somewhere in them.