Once, in a bright castle with squeaky gates, Edmond raced down the hallway on his socks.

Whoosh! His feet slid past shiny suits of armor. He laughed and spun—until his elbow bumped a vase.

Boing! The vase wobbled.

Edmond grabbed it just in time. “Phew,” he whispered, hugging it like a baby pumpkin.

He was the castle’s errand runner and finder of missing things. Today he carried a basket of warm bread rolls toward the Royal Meeting Room.

TOOOOT! A trumpet blared, and the door swung open.

Inside, King Domingo stood on a chair. His crown was slightly crooked, like it had tried to crawl away.

“I have had ENOUGH of bedtime!” King Domingo shouted.

Everyone blinked. The royal cat blinked twice. Edmond blinked three times, because shouting made his eyelashes nervous.

The king waved a scroll as long as a rug. “Listen to my new rule! Sleep is now OUTLAWED! No more yawning. No more naps. No more tucked-in toes! From this moment on, the kingdom shall stay awake forever!”

A hush fell over the room.

“But, Your Majesty,” said the royal librarian, rubbing his eyes, “books like to be read when people can focus.”

“Nonsense!” snapped the king. “If I can’t sleep, no one can! I will not be bullied by pillows!”

Edmond looked closer. The king’s eyelids drooped like heavy curtains. His hair stuck up in one odd curl, like a question mark.

Edmond felt worried—his tummy felt wiggly. Still, he stepped forward. “Sire, do you… want a roll?”

King Domingo took one, holding it like a tiny pet rock.

The royal meeting began, but it did not feel very royal.

A knight tried to salute and bonked his own forehead. Splat! A lady-in-waiting poured tea into a flower pot. The king nodded at very serious moments, except he was nodding at a curtain.