My Fairly Dangerous Godmother
“With everything you could have wished for in the world, you went for pop star?” He made it sound so shallow, so stupid.
“Singing is an artistic expression,” I countered. “There’s nothing wrong with wishing for more talent. That’s better than wishing for riches and power.”
“What was your other wish? A band?”
That was a question I wasn’t going to answer. “So how did you get your fairy godmother?”
Donovan pushed his plate away, apparently full. “Jade Blossom thought I was a nice guy and offered to be my fairy godmother, no contract required.”
No contract? Perhaps no pitiable cross-species outreach program either. Maybe Jade Blossom was just looking for hot guys. Or ones with a talent for theft. “So what happened? She popped into your room wearing a sparkly dress and offered you three wishes?”
Donovan smiled. “If you want more details, you have to tell me what your other wish was.”
“We made a deal that if I told you about my singing wish, you would tell me how you got your fairy.”
“C’mon, you already know what I wished for.” He cocked his head. “Why the secrecy? Did you wish for something even stupider than singing and dancing?”
Um, yeah. I crossed my arms. “I’m still waiting for details about you and Jade Blossom.”
“Details weren’t part of the bargain. If you want those, you’ll have to give more information.”
The king and queen stood, signaling the meal’s end. The mandolin player stopped strumming, mid-song. The princesses stood almost as one, hushing their conversations as they looked at their parents. Donovan and I got to our feet last.
The king watched me stand with an aggravated sigh hovering on his lips, most likely because I should have gotten up when the other princesses stood. “I’ve business to attend to,” he said. “The never-ending work of wrapping up a war. Be glad such matters don’t fall to you, daughters.”
Several of the princesses lowered their gazes. A few others swallowed guiltily. I didn’t know what brought this reaction. The fairy tale never said anything about the war. It only mentioned the soldier had come home from it.
The queen motioned to Donovan to come forward. “Madam Saxton will give you a tour of the castle and grounds. If you’re going to stay with us, you need to know your way around.”
Donovan gave me a quick parting bow, then walked to the front of the room where Madam Saxton waited. Her calm stance didn’t hide her eagerness. She was definitely on his side and would do everything she could to help him uncover the Princesses’ secrets. And tonight they would both come to our bed chambers.
Chapter 10
After the king and queen left, the princesses filed from room in a dignified procession. A man by the door bowed when we passed and said each princess’s name, as though our leaving needed to be announced. Rosamund, Beatrix, Clementia, Philippa, Isolde, Mathilda, Elizabeth, Catherine, Penny, Darby, and Kayla.
The OP—or other princesses—had the obviously-from-the-wrong-century names. With my dark hair and tanned skin, I knew I stuck out as much as the other transplants. It felt so odd to be here, like I was part of a play but didn’t know my lines.
We retired to an empty sitting room to do embroidery. Retired in this case, meant we sat on uncomfortable chairs around a large tapestry tied to racks like a quilt. I sat between Kayla and Darby, struggling with my needlework and wondering what I could say to the other princesses to get their help. I needed to find a way to keep Donovan from following us tonight. I couldn’t just come out and tell them I was from the future and I knew what was going to happen because of a fairy tale. The BPs—blonde princesses—would think I was crazy.
I expected Kayla or Darby to ask me where I was from, comment on my arrival, something. But they seemed as unaware of my sudden addition as the BPs.
Kayla’s smooth black hair was shorter than the other princesses’ hair. She was probably the most recent addition. While the other princesses were busy talking, I bent my head toward hers. “How long have you been here?”
She didn’t take her eyes off her embroidery. “I came in the room with you, Sadie. I’ve been here as long as you have.”
“No, I mean how long have you been in this fairy tale?”
“Quiet,” she murmured. “You shouldn’t speak of fairies.”
“Well, it isn’t wise to speak to them, that’s for sure. Especially if they ask you to sign a contract.” I edged closer to her. “Did you have to sign one?”
She pushed her needle into the cloth, making it disappear among embroidered leaves. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I let out an indignant humph. “Am I the only one who had to sign a contract? Chrissy made them sound like they were standard.”
“Contract?” Rosamund called over. “What are you prattling about, Sadie?”
All the princesses stared at me questioningly.
I swallowed. “Uh . . . never mind.”
Mathilda lifted one of her delicate blonde eyebrows. “Methinks her time with Prince Donovan has addled her brain.”
Beatrix giggled. Even that sounded elegant. “Prince Donovan is quite comely—addlingly so.”
Philippa tsked as she drew her needle from the cloth. “Would you that your prince heard you utter such things?”
Beatrix stiffened and raised her chin. “I meant no disloyalty to my dear Frederick. I only mentioned Prince Donovan’s countenance because it’s a shame that such a fair lad must fail in his task. Many a woman would welcome his interest.”
Philippa sent me a reproving look. “Yes, and Sadie’s name shouldn’t be found among that litany. You must have been free with your attentions or Prince Donovan wouldn’t have asked for your hand.”
Darby nudged me with her elbow. “Yeah, spill it, girl. What went down between you two?”
“I didn’t encourage him.” I jabbed at the tapestry edge in front of me, attempting to turn my pink thread into a flower petal. “I was trying to get him thrown out of the castle.”
Darby let out a disbelieving snort.
But several of the BPs nodded knowingly, loose tendrils bobbing around their chins. Clementia fluttered her hand over her embroidery in graceful arcs. “Some men think the unreachable fruit must be the sweetest.”
I pulled my needle up through the cloth, managing to prick my finger in the process. “That wasn’t it. He just wants Madam Saxton around so she can help him.” How did I best explain Donovan to them without lying?
Catherine dipped her needle into the cloth and brought it up again in a smooth, fluid motion. “Prince Donovan should know our servants will be of no help. Nay, I fear he is smitten with you, Sadie.” She held up a hand to stop my protests. “Perhaps you had no intension to use your womanly charms on him thusly, but for honor’s sake you must behave with more decorum. What would Prince Jason say of your actions?”
I imagined Prince Jason was going to have a lot to say about my actions. Hopefully he wouldn’t say it too loudly or with too much hysteria.
Isolde’s eyes shifted to me. “Men grow weak in the presence of beauty. You may intend only to bestow a smile in friendship; however, to an eager heart it will appear an invitation.”
When had I smiled at Donovan? I didn’t recall ever smiling at him, at least not in a way anyone would think was inviting. But there was no point in arguing about it. The BPs already thought I was a tease. I had to steer the conversation, to warn them about Donovan. It was the only way to enlist their help in keeping him away from the goblet.
I peered around to make sure none of the servants had wandered into the room. “Look, Prince Donovan is different from the other guys who’ve tried to discover our secret. He won’t eat or drink anything we give him, and he has an invisibility cloak. He’s going to follow us tonight.”
I had imagined this revelation would cause a stir of alarm. Instead the princesses calmly continued on with their needlework. “Nonsense,” Rosamund muttered. “He ate well enough at
supper.”
“An invisibility cloak?” Kayla asked scornfully. “Are you for real?”
Beatrix crinkled her nose. “I’ve never heard of such a device.”
“I have,” Catherine said. Her voice took on the tone of a teacher. “Emperor Marcos of the Eastern Empire purchased such an outfit from some cunning tailors. They insisted all but fools could see the thread, and he was too ashamed to confess he saw nothing himself.”
“Indeed,” Isolde said, continuing the story, “Emperor Marcos was so taken in by the scoundrels that he let them dress him in the pretended clothes and then strolled down the street among his subjects.”
Darby shook her head as primly as the other princesses. “That part of the story never made a lick of sense. If you know fools can’t see the clothes, why would you put on the outfit? Who wants a bunch of fools watching you parading around buck naked?”
Mathilda let out an airy laugh. “Whatever his reasons, he made quite a stir among his subjects.”
“To this day,” Catherine added, “the emperor still insists the material was real and his kingdom is full of fools.”
Clementia trimmed a piece of thread with a snip from her scissors. “Prince Donovan must have fallen victim of the same tailors. Poor, foolish handsome boy.”
“It’s not an invisible cloak,” I explained. “It’s one that makes you invisible.”
Penny threaded her needle with a red strand. “Did he seriously tell you that?” She had a valley girl accent. “That’s like, so lame.”
“He probably wanted to impress her,” Kayla put in. “You know how guys are.”
“Pray tell, where does he keep this cloak?” Elizabeth asked.
Isolde’s silver needle flashed in the light. “On his invisible horse, no doubt.”
Rosamund waved her hand dismissively. She was the oldest and her movements had the air of authority. “He’s the fifth son and has no inheritance. All of his belongings are invisible.”
It was clear I wasn’t going to convince the princesses about the cloak. I pressed the other point. “He knows we’re going to put sleeping powder into his drink. He’ll dump it out into a planter instead of swallowing it.” That’s what had happened in the fairy tale.
Rosamund eyed me with sharp reproach. “And how, I might inquire, did he learn of our sleeping droughts?”
I met her gaze. “A fairy told him.”
Elizabeth and Philippa shared a knowing look. “A fairy named Sadie, mayhap?”
“No, her name was Jade Blossom, and she . . .” I didn’t mention the goblet. If I told the princesses I needed to take it, they might stop me. They probably didn’t condone stealing goblets from fairy queens.
Mathilda put her hand to her chest in alarm. “Has a fairy betrayed our confidence?”
Elizabeth patted her arm reassuringly. “Don’t fret. This is simply one of Sadie’s wild tales. The fairies would do no such thing. Who amongst them would dare invoke Queen Orlaith’s wrath? No one shall ever know of our secret ball.”
Except for the hundreds of millions of people who would read the fairy tale in the future. “I’m not telling any wild tales,” I insisted. But I had no way to convince them. They weren’t going to believe I got the information from twenty-first century sources.
I looked to Kayla, Darby, and Penny for support. “You believe me, don’t you?” I lowered my voice. “He’s the soldier from the fairy tale. You know, The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Or eleven. It may have been ten or nine at one point.”
Penny and Darby looked at me blankly . . . which went to show that, despite Chrissy’s claim that the story was famous, not many people knew it. Kayla kept her attention on her embroidery and wouldn’t meet my eye. She wasn’t going to be of any help either.
“Positively addled,” Mathilda proclaimed.
Beatrix tilted her head, examining me like I was a patient. “Or ’tis the effect of too little sleep.” Her voice grew soft. “Do you wish to stay home tonight and rest?”
“No.” I sounded petulant, not calm and reasoning like I’d intended. I took a deep breath and tried again. “The point is, Donovan knows not to drink anything we give him. We can’t let him follow us. We need to come up with a Plan B.”
I realized I’d used the wrong phrase when all the BPs stared at me questioningly. “What do you think we should plan to be?” Elizabeth asked.
“I plan to be dancing with Frederick tonight,” Beatrix chimed. And the others quickly agreed, murmuring plans with various princes.
“That wasn’t what I meant—” I started.
Rosamund gave me silencing look. “We’ll have no more of your wagging tongue tonight. You’ve done nothing but stir up trouble since you came in for supper. First, you encouraged Prince Donovan to choose you above the rest of us, then you warned him not to take food or drink from our hand.”
“I didn’t warn him,” I sputtered. My denial fell flat and unheeded. Her accusation that I had encouraged Donovan to choose me put the other princesses in a sudden and intensely offended mood.
They began complaining about my shortcomings—including the fact that my affections for Prince Jason were clearly not pure since I’d allowed myself to be swayed by Prince Donovan’s charms and rugged looks.
Catherine punched her needle into her cloth, prim and sharp. “Sadie has come to believe what so many people say: we are twelve princesses, each more beautiful than the last.”
Isolde let out a humph. “You’re no fairer than the rest of us, Sadie, so put on no airs.”
Darby nodded. “And don’t give us your sass, either.”
And to think I’d always wanted a sister. Right now, I could do with eleven less.
Finally Rosamund raised her hand to quiet everyone. “You need not worry about Prince Donovan. I myself will ensure he drinks the sleeping drought.”
She sent me a stern look. “And you, dear sister, will do well to consider your indiscretions. If you do more to help Prince Donovan, we won’t allow you to come with us to the midnight balls.”
After that, I didn’t say much. Instead, I fumed and plucked at my needlework, taking out as many stitches as I put in. Not only had I failed to get the princesses help, but now they were threatening to leave me behind tonight.
Well, Rosamund wasn’t the only one who would be watching Donovan to make sure he drank the sleeping drought. I would too. If he didn’t take it, I would insist that none of us go dancing. Donovan couldn’t steal the goblet if he didn’t leave the castle.
An hour passed, maybe more. The BPs were expert embroiderers. They barely glanced at their thread and were somehow able to make it do their bidding. Smooth, bright leaves appeared in the tapestry, and delicate flowers bloomed under their fingers. The OPs weren’t quite as good, but still passable. My stitching was uneven, didn’t resemble anything found in a garden, and looked like a mistake from the beginning.
This caused a fair amount of head-shaking from the BPs, several attempts at instruction, and two predictions my prince would be embarrassed to carry any token I’d put my hand to.
I imagined when Jason saw me again, the state of my embroidery would be the least of his concerns. As I struggled with thread and needle, I made plans. If Jason and I worked together, we had a better chance of stealing the goblet. Perhaps he could distract the queen by serenading her. After all, he had that whole sultry, you-can’t-break-my-gaze thing going for him.
In between plotting theft, I listened to the princesses’ conversation, piecing together information about the country, our parents, and the princes. The more I knew, the easier I could pull off being a Capenzian princess. If the others realized I was clueless about everything, they’d undoubtedly realize something was wrong.
The war, I learned, started when Briardrake, one of Capenzia’s vassal lands, decided it didn’t want to be part of Capenzia anymore. They appointed their own king and led a revolt.
Fearing the loss of their own independence, Devanter and Salania, two nearby countries, join
ed with Briardrake’s army. The resulting war lasted five years. Capenzia won, retaking not only Briardrake, but adding Devanter and Salania to the empire.
The war, like most, came at a great cost. Thousands of people died. Crops were burned and trampled, livestock taken to feed the armies. During a siege in one of the outer provinces, King Rothschild’s brother and sister-in-law were killed, leaving their four daughters orphans—Catherine, Elizabeth, Isolde, and Mathilda.
King Rothschild adopted his nieces, which was why the king had eight blonde daughters around the same age. No explanation was given as to why the last four of us were also so close in age, or why we looked completely different.
After his brother’s death, King Rothschild swore he would make the rebelling countries pay. He was in the process of doing that now—issuing heavy taxes on the people and stripping the nobility of their lands and titles.
“He’s far too vengeful.” Elizabeth sighed and her china doll features settled into frown. “Those who survived the war didn’t start it.”
Catherine nodded, a hint of tragedy finding its way into her expression. “If we can forgive the lands responsible for our parents’ deaths, certainly King Rothschild should be able to.”
Rosamund patted Catherine’s hand soothingly. “Father’s strong temper will eventually run its course. We must exercise patience.”
“Love isn’t patient,” Catherine murmured sadly.
I didn’t comment. I wasn’t sure why the princesses were upset about the king’s foreign policy or what it had to do with love. And besides, I had serious doubts patience would do anything to change King Rothschild’s temper. It was one more reason to steal the goblet and get out of here as fast as I could.
Chapter 11
When the sun went down, we went to our bed chambers, although apartment would have been a more accurate term. The princesses had a sitting room complete with a fireplace, three couches, and more than enough chairs to seat us and several guests. I was relieved to see the room, as it meant Donovan and Madam Saxton wouldn’t be hovering by our beds, watching us breathe while we pretended to sleep.