“I just got a message from the Imperial Palace. There’s some trouble in Northern Wei’s Stone City, near the Great Wall: a border dispute with Agrabah.”
Ben frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not. The Emperor doesn’t want to insult the Sultan, and they’re both asking if you can help them come to an agreement,” said Lonnie. “The villagers on both sides will listen to you as King of Auradon, without anyone from the Imperial Palace or the Sultan’s family losing face.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Ben.
“Will you come now?” she pleaded. “The Emperor is worried the situation might escalate. So far everyone is being polite, but he thinks it’ll be more than that if people don’t calm down soon.”
“Yes, of course.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and set down the pudding, following Lonnie out the door just as Mal rushed in with that determined look in her eye that he loved.
“Ben!” she cried when she spotted him. She looked as if she’d just been running.
“Mal!” he said, happy to finally see her.
They hugged.
“Am I that late? Are you leaving already?” she said, stricken. “I’m so sorry! I thought it was at the main library, not the school library. I went to the wrong place!”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry. The event isn’t over, but I do have to go,” he said, motioning to Lonnie.
“Oh, hi, Lonnie,” said Mal.
“Hi, Mal,” said Lonnie, fidgeting anxiously with the sword on her hip.
“What’s wrong?” Mal asked.
“Trouble between Agrabah and Northern Wei. I’ve got to broker a peace deal between them and the empire,” said Ben.
“We have to leave immediately,” said Lonnie.
“How long will you be gone?” asked Mal, just as her phone burst into a devilish laugh. MUAHAHAHAHA. MUAHAHAHAHA.
“Interesting choice for a text alert,” teased Ben.
“Yeah, I’m not so into the standard chirping bird,” said Mal, looking down at her phone. “Huh, Evie just emergency-texted me. I should go too.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” said Ben. “I don’t know when we’ll get back yet, so keep in touch.”
“I will, don’t worry,” Mal promised, looking up at him with her sparkling emerald eyes. “And good luck.”
They hugged again, and Ben kissed her forehead. “By the way, remind me, I have to ask you something when I get back.”
“Okay. Why so mysterious?” asked Mal. “Just ask me now.”
“I want to make it special,” said Ben with a smile.
“Ben, we should really go,” said Lonnie anxiously.
“Go,” said Mal. “You’re needed.”
Ben nodded and gave her a final squeeze, then ran off to follow Lonnie out the door to make the necessary arrangements with Lumiere.
“Coming through, coming through,” Harry Hook called, flying down the banister to his next class at Serpent Prep, the tails of his red waistcoat flapping as aspiring henchmen and teenage toughs scurried out of the way, lest they be unfortunate enough to have a chance encounter with Harry and his hook.
The Serpent Preparatory School for the Education of Miscreants, as it was appropriately named, had many terrible students—a host of evil, wicked, scheming, rotten little villains, who were just like their parents. But in all of Serpent Prep, there was only one Harry Hook.
Harry laughed his maniacal laugh and waved his hook merrily, slashing at the air, as a little first-year tripped trying to get out of his way. Harry himself landed on his feet, and with a flourish, tipped his black tricorn hat and bowed to a group of young witches who tittered at the sight of him. “Hiiiii, Harry,” they chorused in a melodic singsong.
“Ladies.” He winked, his smirk making them swoon. Dark-haired, with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes that were roguishly lined with guyliner, Harry had all the swagger and swashbuckling charm of a real devil-may-care buccaneer. He was the only boy in the Hook family—right between his older sister, sassy and mean-spirited Harriet, and his younger sister, CJ (short for Calista Jane—the baby—who was always off having grand adventures of her own). Harry prided himself on being wild and unpredictable, off-kilter and a little mad, his one disappointment being that he hadn’t come by his hook naturally—he had to suffer the injustice of having to carry a hook in either hand.
He’d tried to entice Tick-Tock to take a bite of him once, hanging off the dock and dipping a hand in the water, but the lazy crocodile just opened one eye and went back to sleep.
Entering the classroom, Harry slid into his seat next to Uma, who was already in her usual place in the back of the room. “Well, helloooo,” he drawled.
“Arr,” she grunted, looking irritated.
Harry wondered what was wrong. Uma was his oldest friend on the Isle. She’d sort of decided to order him around when they were kids, and he sort of fell into the habit of following her orders. They had a lot in common: cruel intentions, awesome pirate outfits, and well-muscled arms. Plus, they were always up for mischief and adventure.
This was their favorite class, Accelerated Piracy: Hostage Taking and Threatening. But today’s lesson was all about different pirate flags, which could honestly put any swashbuckler to sleep.
Uma could usually be counted on to cause a little trouble and a little excitement, and Harry wished she would shake herself out of this dark mood she was in. There were goblins to torment, rigging to swing around in, and victims to rough up out there. He couldn’t do it alone.
“Want to go see if we can find some first-years to walk the plank?” he asked. “Or raid Jafar’s Junk Shop?”
Uma shook her head. “Not today. Today I need a ship.”
“A ship! What do you need a ship for?” he asked.
“We’re pirates, Harry. What kind of pirates don’t have a pirate ship?” she said.
Uma had a point. A pirate’s life on the Isle of the Lost was a bit limited. There were no rich galleons loaded with gold to attack, no merchant ships to hold hostage, no ports to raid. If they had a ship, their pirating would still be restricted, true, but the invisible dome that kept the island apart from the mainland fell a little beyond the immediate shores, which meant a ship could still sail from one end of the island to the other, maybe even to the Isle of the Doomed, the haunted island that nobody visited.
“Think of all the awful things we could do if we had a set of sails,” said Uma. “Especially if we ever got out of the Isle of the Lost. We’d have the freedom to do bad deeds everywhere!”
That did sound promising, thought Harry. Freedom to rampage and adventure—explore the world and steal its finest treasures. “All right, we need a ship, but where would we get—?” he said, just as he remembered a flyer he’d ripped from the school bulletin board earlier that morning. He unfurled it from his pocket, studying it carefully. “Look at this,” he said, nudging Uma.
It was a ship, or more accurately, a drawing of a ship. A pirate ship with black sails, flying the Jolly Roger and everything. A real beauty.