Free The Runaway Princess by Kate Coombs

exit.
    The plan didn’t work. But something else happened. Horace heard the noise and came back into the cave, running toward the treasure chamber. He gave an angry yell. Then Horace started trying the passageways himself.
    Meg snatched the cloak from Cam and crouched to put it over the dragon, trying to hide its light. “Can’t you stop glowing?” she asked it.
    To Meg’s astonishment, the dragon gave her a reproachful black-and-gold look and dimmed considerably. “It understands me!” she told Cam.
    â€œNever mind that. This is our chance!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHorace went into the next tunnel over. The long, twisty one.”
    â€œLet’s go, dragon!” Meg said. She hurried back up the tunnel after Cam, with the dragon trundling along beside her.
    But just as they reached the main passage, they heard
a burst of footsteps and crashed right into Horace, whose lantern went flying. Horace grabbed at them, astonished. Cam had fallen down, and he squawked as Horace stepped on him. “Who are you?” Horace demanded harshly.
    Cam crawled out from under. Horace caught Meg by the shoulder. She tried to twist away, but his grip was too strong. If they only had … Meg thought of the dragon. Fire! she willed him frantically, hoping for the best. The dragon, who was glowing again, belched. Flame splashed across Horace’s back and shoulders. He let go of Meg, yelling in pain.
    Meg slapped the sparks that had caught her own hair as she turned to run. Come on! Meg thought fiercely, and the dragon came after her, with Cam right behind.
    Â 
    Down the mountainside, Prince Vantor’s horse strained and danced. After waiting for him all afternoon, the stallion was eager to race down the hill. “Can’t you go any faster?” the prince snarled at his men.
    â€œThe treasure is heavy,” a scar-faced guardsman pointed out. “Unless you want to ride on ahead?”
    â€œDon’t be a fool,” Vantor snapped. His temper cooled quickly, though. Ten men, each pair carrying a chest filled with treasure—he could buy a small kingdom with that much, and a large one with the entire trove. The long bones the eleventh man dragged would win him half of this very kingdom, a half easily doubled. Vantor
smiled, spurring his horse. For a heedless moment or two, the prince gave the animal his head. But he reined in his mount abruptly when he came to a barrier across the path. Rubble and sticks, felled saplings—there were too many owls calling in the twilight.
    â€œTo arms!” Vantor shouted, spinning back up the trail. His men quickly dropped the chests to draw their swords, but the road was suddenly full of bandits, more than a dozen of them, and one of Vantor’s men was already down with an arrow in his shoulder.
    â€œNo!” Vantor howled, striking out with his sword. He fought like a dragon himself, guarding his hoard, but all too soon his men were surrounded, their weapons scattered, one of them dead and two more injured. Five bandits rushed the prince. When it was over, Vantor stood weaponless and glaring.
    One of the bandits laughed, and Vantor knew, despite her hood and the dark scarf covering her mouth and nose. “A woman?” Vantor said, outraged. “What are you after?”
    â€œWe’ll take those chests you’ve got,” she called merrily. “Thank you ever so much for slaying the dragon.”
    The bandits tied Vantor and his men up hand and foot. They packed the treasure on their horses—and Vantor’s. Then they left, but not before the bandit leader had slipped a single gold coin into Vantor’s pocket. “A souvenir,” she said. “Maybe we’ll send someone to look for you in the morning.” With that she pulled out a
knife. Vantor’s eyes darkened, but she merely reached to cut off a lock of his shining hair. “A fair trade, don’t you think?” she asked. Vantor