Bartok The Magnificent Script Page

Bartok’s ears drooped. He was the court jester, not a hero. He’d never even held a real sword. The closest he’d come to danger was stubbing his toe on a suit of armor. He missed his old friend, Ivan the Terrible’s son—at least he appreciated a good disappearing act.

The bell rang again, a joyful cascade. Across the kingdom, the ice melted from Prince Ivan’s body. The coal heart in his chest turned red and began to beat. bartok the magnificent script

When they arrived, the real Prince Ivan ran to him, hugged him so hard he squeaked, and said, “You are magnificent!” Bartok’s ears drooped

Prince Ivan, a boy of seven with a mop of red hair, giggled from his throne. The regent, the villainous Ludmilla, did not. She was a statuesque woman with hair like spun iron and a heart to match. The closest he’d come to danger was stubbing

Back in the Forest of Bones, Bartok didn’t get a statue. He didn’t get a parade. He and Zozi simply walked home, tired, muddy, and magnificent.