“But I only—” Jason started. The second slipper hit the floor and would have bounced into him if he hadn’t hopped away.
“Silence!” Rosamund hissed. “The guards will hear you!”
Before she finished the sentence, a knock sounded on the outer room’s door, and a guard called, “Is all well inside?”
The princesses had undressed quickly before, but now the sleeves, bodices, and skirts came off in a blur of color and frantic swishes of silk. Rosamund finished pulling on her nightgown and hurried toward the door. “Everything is as it should be,” she called to the guard. “I had a nightmare and yelled in my sleep. That’s all. We are well and accounted for.”
“Unlock the door from your side,” the guard called. “I’ll check to make sure nothing is amiss.” We heard the sound of the outside bolt sliding across the door.
“No need.” Rosamund said. “My sisters still sleep, and I don’t wish to wake them. Go back to your post. In truth, nothing is amiss.”
The princesses were making so much noise hanging up their dresses and putting away their slips, corsets, and underskirts, I didn’t expect the guard to buy Rosamund’s explanation.
“Methought I heard a man’s voice.” the guard said.
“That was Prince Donovan,” Rosamund assured. “He heard me call out and asked what ailed me. Even now he is searching the rooms to make sure nothing snuck inside.”
“Ah,” the guard said. He now had an explanation for the rustling coming from the room. “Very well then.”
He slid the bolt back across his side of the door. We let out breaths of relief—and not just because our corsets were finally off. As Penny pulled on her nightgown, she sent me a dark look. “You shouldn’t have brought Jason here. If he’s discovered . . .”
“He’s a frog,” I said. “How hard can it be to hide him?”
I finished changing, then picked Jason up and carried him to my dressing table. “Once it’s morning, I’ll ask around the castle to see if anyone knows how to break a fairy’s curse. We might find a way. Until then, you need to stay hidden from the king, okay?”
Jason squatted in an angry frog stance. “I’m not happy about this.”
“If you remember, I warned you not to touch the goblet.”
“Being turned into a frog is only part of it.” His throat sack pulsed in and out. “What do you see in the invisible guy?”
“Is that a trick question?” I peered into my pitcher to make sure it had water. It did. I gently lowered Jason inside.
He floated on the water, legs and arms outstretched. “I heard the two of you talking about your pasts. Why would you want a guy with a criminal record when you could have a guy with a multimillion dollar record deal?”
I titled my head, not sure I understood. “Are you saying you have feelings for me?”
He gazed at me with his big, googly eyes. “At first I didn’t think I did, but when you sat on the couch with Donovan, I hated it. I feel like, well, maybe I’m in love with you after all.”
Not this. Not only did I have a frog problem, I had a forlorn frog problem. Could I have done anything else to mess up Jason’s life? I bent closer to the pitcher. “The love isn’t real, you know. You only feel this way because my fairy godmother cast a spell on you.”
He floated there in the water, unmoving and miserable. I tried again. “Your real girlfriends are way more impressive than me—models, rock stars, actresses. I’m no one important . . . just a girl from Kentucky.”
“I know,” he said. “And that makes it even worse. How can I ever introduce you to my friends? I can’t. I’ll have to keep you a secret.”
I stopped feeling sorry for him then. “Be sure to stay out of sight,” I reminded him, then went to my bed, settling in for what little sleep was left. As soon as I shut my eyes, I heard a small voice with an Irish accent near my ear. “So, judging by the fact you’re lying about, I take it you didn’t get the goblet tonight?”
I opened my eyes. Clover stood on my pillow. He wore his rumpled Team Sadie T-shirt over his other clothes. It had a small footprint on it, as though he’d pulled it off his floor and put it on.
“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t get the goblet.”
“How’s Donovan getting on?” Clover asked. “I have, er, a friend who has a bit of money on him.”
Sure he did. I pulled myself up on one elbow. “Clover, are you betting against me? Seriously?”
He let out a grumble and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Well, it isn’t as though I’m paid much for being a fairy godmother assistant. And what’s the use of having insider information if you don’t put it to use?”
I pointed to his shirt. “You’re supposed to be rooting for me.”
“I am. I am. I’m betting on the lad is all.”
Clover unfolded the paper and took a pen from his pocket. “These are the things Miss I’m-too-busy-gabbing-with-friends-to-check-on-my-charge wants me to ask you: Did Donovan abscond with the goblet?”
“No,” I whispered.
Clover wrote something on the paper. “Did you hear the goblet’s answer to the queen?”
I looked upward, remembering. “It said, ‘You mistake in trying to find what comes forth from human minds. Listen to fair wisdom’s voice. Love’s not a feeling. It’s a choice.’”
Clover put his pen to the paper again. “. . . a load of gibberish about love . . .” He wrote for another moment. “Last question. Did Jason kiss you?”
“About Jason . . .” I straightened, suddenly hopeful. Clover might know how to break the curse. “Queen Orlaith caught him with the goblet, and she turned him into a frog. She said true love’s kiss would break the spell, but I kissed him twice, and he’s still a frog.”
Clover wrote on the paper again. “Yes, they kissed.”
“How do I de-frogify him?”
“I’ve no idea. Well, I’m done here. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”
“Wait!” I leaned toward him, hand out, pleading. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“Ah—I nearly forgot.” Clover made a check on the paper before folding it. “I believe in you, Sadie.” He tucked the paper into his pocket. “Me and thirty percent of the betting fairy population.” With that, the leprechaun vanished.
I lied back down on my pillow with a moan. Chrissy was right. Her assistant was completely worthless.
Chapter 24
I’m not sure how long I slept. Too soon, the door to our bedroom swung open and the guard announced, “His Royal Highness, the King!”
A moment later, the king and queen swept into the room. Even dressed in heavy brocades, the queen had a light, fluttering walk. She went to one bed and then another, pulling back blankets. “A new day is upon us,” she cooed. “Meet it with grace and fortitude, my daughters.”
The king strode down the room between our beds, carrying a walking stick that he rapped against the bed poles. “Up with you! Line up in your bedroom today. Let’s see what mischief you’ve been at!” I rolled over and groaned. Why were these people up at the crack of dawn? Really, what was so important that they had to do it at first light?
The king rapped his stick against my bed especially hard, and I pulled myself from my blankets, yawning. My sisters were already retrieving their slippers. They made a show of gasping as they turned their slippers over this way and that, as surprised as if the footwear had turned into cucumbers. I grabbed mine and stumbled to my place at the end of the row. Donovan had come in and stood near the door, stretching. Madam Saxton smoothed her hair, tucking stray pieces into her cap. Her eyes darted around the room, guiltily.
The king stopped in front of our line. It’s hard to pull off a stern and foreboding look when you’re wearing what essentially are poofy bloomers, but King Rothschild managed it. Even his wrinkles looked disapproving. “Hold forth your slippers for examination.”
The king, then the queen, walked down our line inspecting each pair.
“Worn, worn, worn,
worn,” the king muttered unhappily. “Worn, worn, worn, worn.” His voice grew louder the farther he went. “Worn, worn, worn . . .” He stopped in front of me took my slippers from my hand and turned them over in his. “Only a trifle worn.” I hadn’t danced, and I’d come back early. My slippers were just a bit scuffed and dirty on the bottom.
The king eyed me warily. “Yesterday when your sisters’ slippers were worn, yours were damp and near destroyed. Today, your slippers once again differ from the others. Pray tell, how is this so?”
I shrugged and shook my head as though I had no words to describe this phenomenon.
The king’s eyes narrowed. “Were you with your sisters all night?”
I couldn’t answer that question. I bit my lip and blinked innocently. “You’re angry because my slippers aren’t worn?” Questions weren’t lies. “I thought you didn’t want our slippers to be worn. Shouldn’t you be glad?”
The king gripped my slippers hard, waving them at me. “I thought nothing could bother me more than knowing my daughters are nightly up to some secret tomfoolery. But lo, I was mistaken. It irks me more to know that while your sisters are doing whatever it is they do, you’re up to mischief of your own.” He dropped my slippers on the floor and stalked over to Donovan.
“Well, Young Prince, what say ye? Do you know what my daughters did last night to wear . . .” He glanced back at me. “What most of my daughters did to wear out their slippers?”
Madam Saxton apparently wanted to be as far away from the king and the discussion of last night as she could be. She went to Rosamund’s dressing table and straightened it.
Donovan rubbed his chin, thinking. “Good King, I would not tell you my theory until I am sure it is the right one. I require one more night to solve the mystery.”
The king let out a grunt. “’Tis fortunate you require only one more night, as that is all you have. Tomorrow morning when I come, I shall bring the executioner with me.”
The queen strode over to Donovan, wearing her ever-present smile. “And I shall bring the priest, for I’m sure you’ll have the answer we seek.” She put her hand to her chest. “It will be so lovely to see our dear Sadie wed. We’ll be thrilled to have someone we can call a son at last.”
The king grunted again, obviously less thrilled than the queen.
Donovan put on one of his usual confident smiles. He looked particularly handsome like that, standing tall and straight, a secret humor in his eyes.
“I ask one more favor of you,” he said. “Do you have a library, a wizard—someone that knows how to break fairy curses?”
The queen’s hand flew to her throat in alarm. “Have our daughters fallen prey to a fairy’s wrath?”
“It’s a possibility,” Donovan said solemnly.
I held my breath, hoping the king and queen knew a way to help Jason.
The king walked down the row of princesses, still regarding us. “Other suitors have considered the possibility of a fairy curse. We’ve placed fairy wards in the room. Iron. Bread. T’was to no effect.”
Donovan gave a small agreeing bow. “That is why I need to study the matter further.”
Madam Saxton poured water from Rosamund’s pitcher into her basin, then moved to Beatrix’s table and did the same. Why hadn’t I considered the housekeeper might help us wash up in the morning? I should have hidden Jason somewhere else, somewhere safer. If the king didn’t finish grilling us soon, Madam Saxton would reach my pitcher and see a frog inside it. I went through the possible outcomes in my mind.
1) Madam Saxton would see the frog and kill it. This would be bad.
2) Madam Saxton would see the frog and question us as to why it was there. My sisters would leave the explanation up to me and my nose would end up growing a foot long. This would also be bad.
3) Madam Saxton would see the frog and before she could kill him, Jason would plead for mercy or a perhaps a kiss. Again, bad.
I cleared my throat. “Madam Saxton, you don’t need to help us with our washing. We’re happy to do it ourselves.”
The king turned to me, disapproval weighing his brows downward. He’d been talking to Donovan about fairies, and I’d interrupted. “You speak out of turn in the presence of your father and king? That is twice the disrespect.”
Madam Saxton halted her motions, waiting to see if the king had directions regarding my request.
I fidgeted with the lace on my sleeve. “I meant no disrespect. I was only trying to be helpful.” Specifically, I was trying to help Jason. And myself. “Anyone who has kept watch in our room all night should be allowed to go and rest in her room.”
The queen nodded in agreement. “I’m sure Madam Saxton must be over-weary.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jason leap up and cling to the rim of my pitcher. He’d heard my remark about washing up and peeked over to see what was happening.
If the housekeeper or my parents looked in my table’s direction, they would see Jason. I sent him a psychic message to drop back down and hide.
Apparently Jason had no psychic abilities. Instead of returning to the pitcher, he jumped out altogether. He landed on the dressing table with a splatting sound.
The king turned back to Donovan to speak to him, but the housekeeper heard the noise. She gawked at the table and gasped. “Gracious! What is that doing in here?”
All heads turned to see what had startled her. The king’s head. The queen’s head.
“Heavens,” the queen said. “A huge toad.”
“Impossible,” the king declared, then he saw it too. It was hard not to see Jason. He leaped from the table onto the floor.
A couple of the princesses screamed, which was totally unnecessary since they knew he was in the room. The housekeeper picked up the broom from the hearth, held it above her head, and went after Jason.
“Don’t!” I yelled, running toward her. “Don’t hurt him!”
You’d think she’d have listened since I was a royalty, but no, she swacked the broom down right next to Jason.
He let out a croak and leaped out of the way.
“Stop!” I shouted. The word was lost in the noise of princesses shrieking.
To their credit, many of them were yelling the same thing I was—for Madam Saxton to stop. Others were just screaming, which really didn’t help.
Jason was also screaming, but his small voice didn’t rise above the din. Madam Saxton brought the broom down again, this time near a dressing table. A jar of pins rattled in protest.
Jason leaped around the room with such vigor it almost looked like he was flying. One moment he was on the floor, the next on a table, then on the back of a chair. I chased after him, trying to grab him.
“I’ve got him!” Donovan shouted. He took off his cap, held it like it was a butterfly net, and rushed toward Jason’s flying form. Mid-leap, Donovan swooped the hat over the frog. He brought his hands together to close the cap, then tucked one hand behind him and held out the cap to us with a flourish.
I gulped, wondering what Donovan was going to do with Jason. Should I tell the king and queen of Jason’s enchanted prince status? Perhaps they would have pity on him. Perhaps they would help. Maybe Jason could think of a story about his identity and why he was here that wouldn’t reveal where the princesses went each night or who they danced with.
But if he couldn’t . . . if he didn’t even try . . . if the king found out about the secret now, he’d find a way to close the door to the fairy realm, and Donovan and I wouldn’t be able to go back for the goblet tonight.
Worse still, would the king consider Jason the prince who’d solved the mystery? If that happened, then he’d be required to marry one of the princesses, and I would be his choice.
The only thing I could think of that would be worse than being stuck here with Jason as a husband was being stuck here with Jason as a frog husband.
Donovan took a step closer to the housekeeper. “Would you be so good as to put this fellow outside?”
The housekeeper hurried over and took the cap from Donovan, making sure to keep the cap tight so the frog didn’t escape.
I bit my lip. How would we find Jason again? Madam Saxton could put him anywhere on the castle grounds. And what if she didn’t put him outside? What if this was one of those centuries where frog legs were a delicacy?
The king held out his hand for the cap. “Let me see the creature. It couldn’t have come this far inside on its own volition, and I hardly believe one of my daughters would have taken the thing for a pet.”
He regarded us, checking for contradiction.
At his side, the queen tut-tutted the idea. “The girls are too well-bred to drag a revolting toad inside.”
“I . . . I . . .” I tried to find a way to phrase my confession without lying. I couldn’t say I’d found the frog outside and wanted him as a pet. What could I say?
The king opened the cap and stared inside, perplexed. He turned the cap inside out. It was empty. The whole room let out a collective gasp of wonder.
My gaze went to Donovan. He winked at me, and I realized I’d just seen him do another magic trick.
“How can this be?” the king asked, shaking the cap as though it would explain itself if he throttled it enough.
The queen lifted her skirt and scanned the floor. “The toad vanished?”
The princesses lifted their skirts as well, each searching for a sign of green. Kayla whimpered with worry.
“Magic,” the queen breathed out. “This is more proof of it.” She let out a sob and hugged Kayla sympathetically. “My poor, poor girls. We must do something! We are beset with strange magic.”
Madam Saxton put her hand to her mouth, as distraught as the queen. “The fairies have cursed our poor princesses. What if none of them can marry? The kingdom will be bereft of heirs.”
At the phrase, “What if none of them can marry,” several of the princesses sniffled, two broke into tears, and Clementia cried out, “Don’t say we shan’t marry, Papa. That would be too cruel.”
The king tossed Donovan’s cap onto the floor. “Stop your wailing at once. Why would fairies curse my daughters? What have I ever done to provoke the fairy realm?”
My Fairly Dangerous Godmother Page 27
