My Fairly Dangerous Godmother

  The un-sensible part of me persisted though. I had to tell myself firmly: Angry magical creatures are dangerous. Have you learned nothing from fairy tales? Has Walt Disney’s life’s work been in vain?

  When I saw a small, stunted diamond that must have fallen from a tree and rolled near the path, I couldn’t help myself. I reached down and picked it up. No owls sprang from the air or dived toward me.

  I hadn’t touched the trees or gone off the path, so the owls hadn’t been alerted.

  The diamond was only pea sized instead of cherry sized. Still, it was a diamond. I slipped it into my pocket, suppressing a smile.

  How could my parents ever hope for me to become a sensible person, when being un-sensible had just totally paid off? As I walked, I worried the diamond might clink into the goblet once I’d stolen it, and I took the diamond from my pocket and slipped it into my stocking instead.

  A few minutes later, the forest opened up, and a dark lake spread out before us. An island was barely visible in the night. It was perhaps a mile from the shore, and would have blended into the sky and water if it hadn’t been for a lit pavilion that stood there, partially obscured by trees.

  Twelve narrow boats sat along the edge of the lake—half in the water, half on the land. They were the size of large rowboats, decorated with ornate curving prows that reminded me of giant snail shells.

  Twelve guys stood by the boats, each holding a lantern. To say the princes wore brightly-colored jackets with matching pants wouldn’t be quite accurate. Pants go down to the feet. Theirs ballooned out and ended at the knee.

  Each guy wore colored hose and leather shoes with heels like a woman’s. But perhaps the oddest things in their ensembles were their ruffled collars. They were so thick they made the guys look like their necks had gone into hiding.

  I stopped walking and searched for Jason. Which boat was he standing by? And more importantly, what should I say to him? I’d thought of dozens of things, but wasn’t sure what would be best. How does one properly apologize for sticking a complete stranger in a fairy tale—twice?

  I heard a muffled laugh behind me; Donovan’s commentary on the scene. “So,” he said, “every night the princesses go and hang out with elaborately dressed clowns? That’s the big secret?” Another laugh. “No wonder you don’t tell your father about this.”

  “They’re not clowns. That’s Renaissance fashion for noblemen.”

  “Call it what you want. They’re still wearing poofy capris.”

  “Your pants go to the knee too,” I reminded him. “The only reason you don’t look ridiculous is you’re wearing boots.”

  “And I’m better looking.”

  That too, but I didn’t admit it.

  Donovan let out another low chuckle. “All those dudes look like their heads are stuck on platters.”

  “No one claims that fashion makes sense.”

  A row of lampposts stood at the end of the trail. The other princesses hung their lanterns there and then headed toward the princes. I walked slowly to the posts, still searching for Jason.

  I spotted him at the end of the row of boats, closest to the trail and the lamppost. He was half leaning, half sitting on his boat’s prow, eyes shut. Instead of carrying his lantern, it sat on the ground by his feet.

  My hands felt sweaty and a lump of dread settled into my stomach. This was it. Time to face the music, pay the piper, and any other metaphor that meant, you must fess up to tossing a guy in the past. I hung my lantern next to the others, then retied the tie on my cloak. I didn’t head to the boats. My legs wouldn’t move that direction.

  Beside me, Donovan drew in a low breath. “Is that Jason Prescott?”

  “Maybe.” Ouch. “Yes.”

  “That was your other wish? You made Jason Prescott come here to be your boat rower? Sheesh. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  “It wasn’t like that. I wished for him to be here because I liked him.”

  Donovan paused. “In that case, remind me not to get on your good side.”

  A couple of fireflies circled around me, flashing as they chased each other. I waved them away. “You can’t go any farther toward the lake. Sadly, you didn’t have the forethought to wish anyone here who has their own boat. Bring one with you tomorrow night. And don’t forget the oars.”

  I headed toward Jason. I doubted my instructions would have any effect on Donovan. In the fairy tale, he snuck onto the youngest princess’s boat.

  Most of the princes left their boats, and strolled toward the princesses, their strides filled with anticipation and gallantry. The princesses glided happily to their boyfriends, as poised as a ballet troop. They called out happy greetings and curtsied demurely. Each girl held out a hand to her prince, and each prince took his girlfriend’s hand and kissed it.

  I imagined my greeting from Jason would be quite different. I trudged toward him, words tumbling uselessly around my mind. I’m really sorry. Completely, thoroughly, mortifyingly sorry.

  Jason had finally noticed me. He watched me, eyes narrowed, trying to place me. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted he didn’t recognize me. Was there any way I could get through this night pretending we hadn’t met?

  No sign of his head injury showed on his forehead. I supposed I should be grateful to Chrissy for fixing that, but right now it was hard to be grateful to her for anything.

  When I drew close, Jason’s eyes went wide. He gasped in surprise and took a startled step forward. “You!” he said, waving a finger in my direction. “You’re that girl from the audition.”

  Chapter 13

  My throat went dry. I cleared it uncomfortably. “Yeah . . . um . . . hi again.”

  His eyes, which had always looked so kind and understanding in his pictures, now glared holes into me. He kept waving his finger. “You’re responsible for all of this, aren’t you?”

  “Sort of.” Chrissy was responsible part of it. I held out my hands, a gesture asking him to hear me out. “This will sound crazy, but I have a fairy godmother, and I made a few wishes. I didn’t know she would send you here. I didn’t even know she would send me here. I wouldn’t have—”

  “What kind of crazy stalker are you?” he shouted. “You come to the show, make a mess, have a bunch of smelly sailors kidnap me, then I end up in a place where everybody dresses like the Three Musketeers.” He took another step toward me, his finger nearly jabbing me. “Take me home right now!”

  Everyone was staring at us. I imagined the princesses would have plenty to say about this when we got back to the castle, and none of it would be good.

  “You’re making a scene,” I whispered.

  “A scene? You haven’t seen the scene I’ll make if you don’t get me out of here. I have people, you know.”

  I raised my hands in an attempt to calm him. Several princes shot him disapproving looks before turning their attention back to the task of escorting their princesses to their boats.

  “I’m trying to get us home,” I said. “But I need your help.” Behind Jason, our boat wobbled back and forth on the shore, a tell-tale sign Donovan had climbed inside.

  “Help? You want my—” Jason stopped. His eyes went over me, once, twice. “Wait a second, did you . . .” He shook his head as though clearing it. “Were you a mermaid at one point?” His gaze zeroed in on my shoes, checking to make sure I had feet.

  I cleared my throat again. “I need to explain a few things.”

  Jason’s lips clamped together, and his nostrils flared. He didn’t look like he wanted to stay here for two more seconds let alone stand around and hear what I had to say.

  The other princes had finished escorting the princesses to their boats and were exchanging whispered words before helping them step inside. I didn’t have much time. I quickly condensed the last day of my life into a minute-long report, emphasizing I’d never meant to involve him. He listened in sullen silence.

  “So it was an accident,” I emphasized. “All we have to do is get th
e queen’s golden goblet, and we can go home.”

  “Fairies did this,” Jason said flatly. “That’s your explanation.”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at me for another moment, then smiled with dawning realization. “This is a prank, isn’t it?” He glanced around, nodding his head as though he had the whole thing figured out. “Did my manager okay this? Cause I’m going to kill him if he did.”

  Jason put his hands on his hips and forced out a laugh that sounded more relieved than happy. “When he told me I should dive into reality shows, I didn’t expect him to take things this far.”

  “It’s not a prank.”

  Jason scanned the shoreline. “Where are the cameras?”

  “Look,” I said, trying to recapture his attention. An idea had suddenly occurred to me. “We might be able to get out of here on a technicality. You don’t love me, right?”

  He reached out and patted my shoulder patronizingly. “I love all of my fans. They’re the best.” He said this too loudly. “No hard feelings.” He glanced around again, still searching for cameras. “You got me good.”

  I inwardly groaned. He didn’t love me, but now that he’d said he did, Chrissy would consider it proof she’d fulfilled her part of the contract.

  “I can be a good sport about this.” Jason gave a thumbs up to the prince at the boat next to ours. “Hey, guys, we’re cool now.”

  Finally Jason turned back to me. He lowered his voice a whisper. “You tell your people they have to cut any footage of me yelling. In fact, I want editorial approval of the whole thing, or you’ll be dealing with my lawyers.”

  I would take lawyers over fairies any day.

  “It’s not . . .” I started, then didn’t finish. Maybe it was for the best Jason thought tonight was part of a reality show prank. It would keep him on his best behavior, and I didn’t feel like listening to him yell again. I stepped toward the boat. “Do you know the story The Twelve Dancing Princesses?”

  “Sounds familiar.” He snapped his fingers. “They’re an indie rock band, right?”

  Really? Was I the only one who ever read fairy tales as a child? I couldn’t tell Jason the story, not with Donovan nearby listening. I took the last few steps to the land’s edge. “We’d better go, or we’ll be late for the dance.”

  Jason seemed to remember a boat sat behind him. “Right. The other guys mentioned the midnight ball. We’re supposed to dance for some queen chick.”

  The land was damp here, and I lifted my skirt to avoid getting it wet. “Right.”

  “Here’s the deal,” Jason said, voice still hushed. “I don’t care what my manager agreed to. I’m not staying the entire night. I’ll do two numbers. Maybe three if I like the band. That’s it. And I’m not signing autographs for anyone.”

  “I wasn’t planning on asking.” It would have been nice if Jason offered to help me climb into the boat since my skirt weighed about twenty pounds. He didn’t offer, so I climbed in as carefully as I could and made my way to an intricately carved wooden bench at the back of the boat. I half expected to bump into Donovan. Where was he sitting? I knew the answer as soon as I thought of the question. He was in the only place where Jason and I wouldn’t run into him—sitting on the top of the back edge of the boat.

  I saw nothing that indicated his presence. No taletell glimmer from the moonlight hitting his cloak. I could have ordered him to get off the boat, but even if he listened—and that was highly doubtful—he would just climb into one of the other boats. They were still lined up on the shore.

  Besides, I didn’t think it would improve Jason’s confidence in me if I suddenly yelled at the empty space behind the bench. I had to think of something else—something that would prevent Donovan from getting to the island. If he came, he would get the goblet and Jason and I would be trapped here. The thought made me feel prickly with panic.

  I couldn’t stay here. And I couldn’t let Jason be stuck here either.

  The other princes gave their boats a powerful shove, sliding them into the lake. Then the princes took a few strides and leaped inside, barely getting the bottoms of their boots wet.

  Jason pushed our boat. It only moved an inch. He pushed again with little better results. He probably wasn’t as strong as the other princes, and Donovan’s added weight wasn’t helping matters. Jason turned and pressed his back against the prow, using his legs to push. “The boat . . . must be . . . caught on something.”

  The prince closest to us let out a mocking chortle as his boat glided away from shore. “This is what becomes of those who grow lax in their training. Next, you’ll be unable to lift your sword.”

  Another nearby prince dug his oars into the water. “Did Jason lift his sword today? I only saw it knocked from his hand. Repeatedly.”

  “Last in swordplay,” a third prince called, “and he’ll be last in rowing too!”

  Jason put his shoulder to the boat and grunted with effort. “I’ll beat both of you losers across the lake!”

  The princes had more to say, but by then they were too far away for us to hear. Finally, Jason managed to scrape the boat across the shore and into the lake. Huffing, he sloshed through the water and flung himself inside.

  To Donovan’s credit, he didn’t laugh at this performance, at least not that I could hear.

  Breathing hard, Jason picked up the ends of the oars, and paddled them into the water. “They couldn’t give us a motor? What’s the deal—are they turning this into some sort of triathlon?”

  I figured it was a rhetorical question and didn’t answer. I looked out at the lake. Small waves lapped against the boat, as dark and shiny as black oil. The moonlight made a trail across the water like a path leading to the island. This place was probably beautiful in the daytime. It was a shame we only got to see it at night.

  I didn’t know what to say to Jason. His fame still awed me. I was sitting in a boat with Jason Prescott—the real him, not the posters that lined my room. I felt stiff and awkward and completely ordinary.

  I expected him to make small talk—maybe ask me why I wanted to be a singer, or why I currently had eleven sisters. He didn’t. He kept his gaze on the other boats, trying to catch up with them. “I’m only behind,” he panted, “because I got a late start.”

  After a few more moments of watching Jason strain at the oars, I said, “So where are the princes from?”

  The fairy tale never said anything about them beyond the fact that they danced with the princesses every night. As a child, I’d always wondered why twelve princes happened to be hanging around a secret ball, why their parents were never concerned about the state of their footwear, and why one of them didn’t ever show up at the castle and tell the king he could solve the riddle. If one of the princes wanted to marry his princess, hey, problem solved.

  Even though I was now living the fairy tale, thus far I only knew the answer to one of my childhood questions. The princes didn’t have to worry about their footwear because they wore leather shoes. Leather was sturdier. This, I supposed, is why nobody wore silk slippers in the twenty-first century. Say what you wanted about the discomfort of high heels, at least they lasted more than one night.

  “Where are you staying?” I added.

  Jason strained against the oars. “I’m staying with four other guys in a castle in Briardrake. Don’t ask me where that is because I’ve never heard of it. They keep saying I’m their brother. Must be part of the show. We met up with the other guys when we got here. They all know each other.”

  “Briardrake?” I repeated. And another part of the fairy tale made sense. “Capenzia went to war with Briardrake. Along with Devanter and Salania.”

  “Devanter and Salania,” Jason said. “That’s where the other princes are from.”

  And that explained why the princesses didn’t tell their father about their suitors. The king wouldn’t be happy to learn his daughters were in love with the enemy. I gazed across the water at the other couples. “I wonder how the princes and pri
ncesses met?”

  Jason didn’t have an answer to that. The muscles in his arms strained with effort. He nearly stood up while he rowed, attempting to gain distance on the other boats. I doubted he’d make any ground. The other princes were used to rowing. Jason had spent his time playing guitar.

  “If the princes love the princesses,” I continued, “I wonder why they didn’t call a truce years ago.” Maybe it meant their relationships were recent.

  Jason grunted. “I think we’ve got a defective boat. This thing isn’t moving.” He obviously wasn’t going to be any help in solving fairy tale mysteries.

  He let go of the oars and rubbed his palms against his pants. “Explain again how we win this thing—we’re supposed to get a goblet at the dance?”

  “The queen’s golden goblet. She can’t know we’re after it. When we give it to my fairy godmother, she’ll send us home.”

  He picked up the oars and rowed again. “So how do we get the goblet?”

  I wasn’t about to discuss strategy while Donovan sat behind me, listening. From here, it was about a ten-minute swim back to the shore. Not too bad. It was a lot closer than the distance to the island. “We’ll make plans to take the goblet in a minute. First, I’ve got to do something.”

  Without explanation, I pivoted and lunged with outstretched arms in Donovan’s direction. If I’d been wrong about where he sat, my momentum might have made me topple from the boat. But I wasn’t wrong. Donovan let out a muffled exclamation, and a moment later a huge splash of water sprayed the side of the boat.

  I sat back down, folded my hands in my lap, and calmly smiled at Jason.

  He peered at the water then back at me. “What did you just do?”

  I shrugged. Shrugging is not a lie, so it was safe.

  Off to our side, the water stirred, splashed some more. A string of muttered curse words seemed to hang, disembodied, in the night air.

  “Row faster,” I told Jason. I didn’t want Donovan to swim to the boat and hang on.