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live.
    Nevertheless, it seemed inevitable that he would ride forth to battle the beast, so Charming’s thoughts naturally turned to the far more important question of what he would wear. Unfortunately, there his confidence was not what it once was. He was not at all certain what condition his questing clothing was in, and as he made his way back to the cottage, he came to the sudden, horrible realization that even if they had been properly pressed before being packed away, they would definitely be so last year .
    When he finally joined the siblings, it was over a melancholy meal, during which Will mumbled incoherently about what had transpired at Castle White, and Charming worried over how he was going to brave being seen on an actual quest in out-­of-­date clothes. Besides being distracted over the age-­old question of cape or hood, trying to focus on Will’s story was not helped by the fact that, to Charming’s mind, Will was a terrible storyteller. His descriptions were lacking and his word choices abysmal. But, as they pieced the tale together, Charming’s mood began to rise.
    The behavior Volthraxus exhibited, and particularly the note he had left behind, seemed to confirm the stories about him, that he was a creature that understood the proper forms. The dragon would, of course, take every opportunity to kill anyone coming to slay him, but he would probably treat Elle quite well and would certainly not raise a claw against her until he could face Will or Will’s appointed hero. Charming tried to explain this as they ate, leaving out the fact that the King’s champion would almost certainly die, but Will was in no mood to hear reason. After a time, Charming sunk into his own brooding silence as he thought about what he would need to pack.
    The hat will have to be discarded, but my old jacket was definitely fashion forward, he reminded himself. A few alterations to the cuffs and collars, and I might be able to get away with it.
    By the end of dinner, Will was asleep in his chair. Charming, on the other hand had mentally addressed every issue that he was liable to face except for the insoluble ones like how to prevent a full-­grown dragon from boiling one before you have time to parley for the release of its prisoner and the fact that he lacked a valet and would have to buff his own boots for the entire length of the quest. Liz interrupted these troubling thoughts as Will began to snore beside him.
    â€œEdward, help me with him,” whispered Liz.
    Charming carried Will to the guest bedroom. Liz began unlacing the sleeping King’s breeches and vest while Charming held him upright.
    â€œWhat are you doing? That is the King!” whispered Charming.
    â€œYes, he is.” She sighed. “But, he is also my little brother, and he has exhausted himself with grief, Charming. Don’t forget that. He has never had to face what he is facing now, and we have no idea how he is likely to react or what he is likely to attempt.”
    After they had tucked him in, Liz gently smoothed her brother’s hair and sang him a lullaby.
    â€œPoor, Elle,” Liz said with a sad shake of her head. “She must be so afraid. In the morning, when we are all fresh, we can come up with a plan. Tonight, we need to get some sleep. Hopefully, Will’s guard and his wits will catch up with him tomorrow. Even if they don’t, we have to find a way to convince him that rushing after Elle isn’t going to save her. I remember the last dragon, Charming. If this new dragon is anything like that one, then no man can face it.”
    He did not argue, and they rose and left the King to sleep in peace.
    They went to bed, and although Liz fell asleep, Charming lay awake thinking about her last words as the moonlight traced strange patterns on the ceiling. She was wrong, of course. Any man could face a dragon. In fact, it was trivially easy. The trick he reflected was in not worrying overmuch