My Fairly Dangerous Godmother

  I shook my head reluctantly. “What did you do with your cider?”

  “While no one was watching, I poured it into Madam Saxton’s glass and she drank it.”

  And Madam Saxton was too drugged to notice her glass had been refilled. I tilted my head back and groaned. The answer seemed so easy now. Why hadn’t any of us considered that possibility?

  Donovan nodded, making his point. “People see what they expect to see.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right.”

  He shifted his hand on my back, holding me looser now that I’d stopped shivering. “I’m always right. Well, except in my choice of stowaway ships. On the way to the ball, how did you know I was in your boat?”

  I wished my answer made me look clever. “It’s part of the fairy tale.”

  “Seriously?” His head jerked in surprise. “Since you knew I followed you, I figured the last place you expected me to go was in your boat. Sheesh. What a waste of reverse psychology.”

  “Why did you get in my boat on the way back?”

  He shrugged. “It was fun to watch you and Jason fight. After all the stupid things he said to you, I expected you to tell him off. I figured you were just waiting for the boat ride.”

  I hadn’t told Jason off, though. Instead I’d taken out my frustration by pushing Donovan into the lake. Stupid. Maybe Chrissy was right about me. Maybe I did keep my mouth shut when I should be standing up for myself.

  Donovan tilted his head to see my expression. “You don’t still have a thing for Jason, do you?”

  “If by ‘thing’ you mean admiration or respect— then no, I don’t have a thing for him anymore.”

  Donovan laughed. It was a nice sound, low and masculine. “So what else happens in the fairy tale? How does the soldier explain to the princesses he’s not in the outer room when they get back?”

  “They don’t notice he’s gone. I guess they never check on him when they go back.”

  Donovan let out a grunt. “Who wrote this stupid story anyway?”

  “Hey, we’re tired, and we drugged you. I guess it never occurred to anyone you might do something besides sleep.” I nudged him because he still wore a look that implied princesses were innately idiots. “The fairy tale has been passed down for generations. It’s classic literature.”

  “Girls just like the story because it involves princesses, ball gowns, and dancing.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  He let out another grunt. “Girls have unrealistic expectations about life. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “Is it our fault there aren’t enough princes around?”

  Donovan picked up the last of our branches and added them to the fire. He didn’t put his arm back around me. Perhaps he didn’t think I needed his warmth anymore. Parts of my chemise were dry.

  We gazed at the fire and neither of us spoke. It was cozy sitting here. Flames wavered between orange and yellow, lazily spreading over the wood. The tiny embers that flew upward reminded me of the fireflies we’d seen earlier.

  Suddenly I was conscious of how closely I sat to Donovan, how our shoulders still touched. I stole a glance at his profile, secretly watching him from the corner of my eye.

  In the warm light, he looked even more handsome than he had earlier. My eyes traced the curve of his cheek, the dip of his eyebrows, the fringe of lashes over his eyes. His eyes were blue, I knew—blue like the sky on a clear day. The night had darkened them, but the firelight reflected stars into them, making them look mysterious.

  Maybe I’d been wrong to want a prince. Maybe a thief was the way to go.

  I forced my gaze back to the fire. Was it normal to think this way about a guy who’d been my enemy a few hours earlier? Maybe I was still a little delirious. Or maybe I was just responding to the hot guy who saved my life and then put his arm around me in front of a glowing fire.

  I glanced at Donovan again. He was watching me now, those same scales weighing me. I waited, holding his gaze, feeling my heart beat faster. Say something, I thought. And then, No, don’t say anything. Bend over and hold me close again.

  His gaze lifted to the sky, and his eyes widened in surprise. The edges of the night were lightening, turning from black to grey. “It’s nearly morning. We’d better get back to the castle or we’ll be caught.”

  Chapter 18

  Donovan stood and helped me to my feet. I blushed and was glad he couldn’t see it. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I hadn’t thrown myself at him. I’d just thought about it.

  I brushed at a few bits of seaweed that stuck to my chemise. Dirt and pieces of bark covered my front, a result of carrying branches. I’d have to wash and change once I reached my room.

  We put out the fire and then hurried along the trail, occasionally running as we raced to beat the sun. By the time we reached the staircase, the sky was nearing dawn blue and getting lighter every moment. What time did the king check on the princesses? Surely not at dawn. Kings probably liked to sleep in. Donovan and I sped up the stairs, our footsteps thudding on the marble. The meadow below us shrunk away with abnormal quickness. I felt like I was running through the sky and didn’t dare look over the stairs’ edge. My legs began to ache, but I didn’t slow down.

  When we got close to the top, Donovan put his invisibility cloak on. His image winked out, and we slowed our footsteps, quieting them.

  The princesses had left the door open. I was glad for that. I snuffed my lamp, put it on the shelf with the others, then went into the sitting room. The fire had gone out, casting the room into darkness. Only pale slivers of light escaped the edges of the curtains—not enough to illuminate the couches. I supposed that was the reason the princesses hadn’t noticed that Donovan was gone.

  I gave the hearth a shove, and it slid back into place.

  Slowly, I made my way toward the bedroom, hands out to keep myself from bumping into chairs. Once I reached the room, it was easier to see. The shutters across the windows let in more light. Each bed was occupied except for one. Mine. I could hardly wait to lie down in it.

  Unfortunately I needed to change out of my filthy chemise and wash the dirt off my arms. I would use the pitcher of water that sat on my nightstand to clean up the best I could. My hair would take some work. Parts were twisted into coils, the rest hung damp and tangled around my shoulders.

  I went through the closet trying to remember where I’d put my nightgown. Were there extra ones somewhere? There had to be, but it was hard to see what was hanging on the pegs.

  I heard the faint sound of bolts scraping across wood on the outer room door. Someone was unlocking it. No. The king couldn’t be here already.

  A knock removed any doubts. “Unlock the door,” King Rothschild called. “’Tis morning.”

  Only for overachievers. It was just past dawn.

  “Coming!” Madam Saxton answered, with a half-startled, half-sleepy voice.

  I had no time to change, no time to do anything but hide and hope for the best. I ran to my bed, jumped in, and pulled the covers over my head. It took effort to slow my breathing, to lay still.

  I heard footsteps. The bedroom door swung open, and the queen’s voice trilled across the room, “Rise and shine, girls. A new day is upon us.”

  One of the princesses let out an exhausted groan. “It can’t be morning already.”

  “I’m too tired to get up,” another protested.

  I huddled farther down into my bed.

  “Nonsense,” the queen insisted. Her footsteps tapped across the room to the windows. “You must be well-rested. Two chaperones attended you last night to ensure you went to bed early.” The queen opened the shutters, flooding the room with light. “Madam Saxton, did the girls sleep well?”

  Madam Saxton didn’t answer immediately. “I never heard any of them stirring.”

  “What a relief,” the queen said. “King Rothschild will be so happy.”

  “I feel unwell,” one of the princesses murmured. “Perhaps I’m ill. Let me sleep longer.”
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  Several voices joined in, agreeing that they were ill too.

  Heavier footsteps strode across the room, making their way between the rows of beds. “Why are my daughters lying about like lollygaggers?”

  I pressed my eyelids together and willed him to go away.

  “Arise at once,” the king boomed. “All of you.”

  The princesses moaned in complaint. I heard the sound of their covers rustling and their feet hitting the floor. I couldn’t join them, not dressed like I was. I feigned sleep. With so many daughters, perhaps the king and queen wouldn’t notice me missing.

  “Line up and show me your slippers,” the king ordered, heading toward the outer room.

  I stayed huddled underneath the blankets. A rumble went through the room, girls retrieving their shoes from underneath their beds. Surprised exclamations flooded the room. “Why, my slippers were fine when I put them under my bed last night!”

  “Mine as well.”

  “I don’t know what’s happened to them.”

  The whole group was awash with astonishment. Totally overacted. After going through the same thing night after night, wouldn’t everyone expect their slippers to be worn out? A patter of footsteps filed out of the room. Apparently the inspection took place in the outer room.

  “Present your shoes,” the king barked, and then a moment later added, “Where is Sadie?”

  I pressed myself into the bed. Be one with the mattress, I told myself. Stay hidden.

  Heavy footsteps marched back into the bedroom. “Sadie, out of bed! Line up this instant.”

  So much for mattress Zen. I had to face the king, face everyone. I sat up took off my slippers, and slunk into the outer room. The princesses were standing as stiffly as soldiers in formation, six on one side, five on the other. All were primly dressed in clean white nightgowns and caps, their hair braided down their backs.

  I was dirty, bedraggled, still wearing my corset, and my hair looked like it had endured a natural disaster. Everyone stared at me as I took my place at the end of the line.

  Donovan stood by the queen and housekeeper, making a show of stretching and yawning. Madam Saxton pursed her lips and wrung her hands in worry.

  The king took slow, heavy steps down the line of princesses, checking each pair of slippers they held out. “Worn, worn, worn, worn, worn, worn, worn, worn, worn, worn, worn.” He stopped in front of me. “And damp.”

  The queen glided over to inspect my slippers. They weren’t just damp. Their pale yellow had turned into dirty, ground-in brown. She turned them in her hands. “My heavens, child. These look as though you strolled across the bottom of a lake.”

  Close, actually.

  The king looked me up and down, glowering, then pulled something from my hair. He showed it to me. “What is this?”

  “Um, a twig.”

  He plucked a piece of limp green seaweed from my shoulder. “And this?”

  I blinked, and tried to match the shock in the other princesses’ voices. “I can’t say . . .” because it would get me in a lot of trouble. It’s amazing how much you can lie without lying.

  “I see.” The king’s grip on the seaweed tightened. “Can you perhaps say how you went to bed last night and rose up this morning wet, dirty, and covered in plant life? How exactly does one accomplish such a feat?”

  I gulped. “I . . . I can’t explain it, Father.”

  He leaned closer. The fine lines around his eyes seemed to deepen, and a vein near his forehead bulged. “You will tell me, or you’ll have nothing but bread and water for the rest of your days.”

  I lowered my head. Anything I said now would cause my nose to grow.

  “Still all of you remain silent.” The king’s voice filled the room. “Shall your sisters have your diet as well?”

  Beside me, a couple of the princesses whimpered. Several others said, “T’isn’t fair, Father. We know not how Sadie soiled her clothes.”

  The queen put her hand on the king’s arm. “The girls clearly remember nothing. They’re victims of some curse or spell. We mustn’t punish them for someone else’s devilry.”

  The king flung the seaweed to the floor and strode over to Donovan. “Well, what have you to say about this? What transpired in this room last night?”

  Donovan ran his hand through his hair. I wondered if he was checking to see if it was damp. Considering my state, that would have been especially bad. His hair fell back into place, mussed but dry. Donovan’s vest and pants were dark colors, hiding the dirt that was certainly on them. His boots were most likely wet. They were black too, though, so it wasn’t apparent.

  “My journey yesterday must have tired me out.” Donovan shook his head sheepishly. “I fell into a deep sleep last night—so deep I don’t remember anything from the moment I sat down until this morning.” He rubbed his jaw in thought. “But don’t worry. I have two more nights to discover the secret of your daughters’ activities. Certainly I’ll solve the mystery tonight.”

  The king let out a low grumble of disapproval and turned his attention to Madam Saxton. “And you? What did you see last night? How often did you check upon my daughters?”

  Madam Saxton’s hand-wringing went into overdrive. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I too, fell asleep.”

  The king let out another grumble, this time louder. “So says everyone who passes the night in this room. I almost believe the sandman has taken up residence and holds nightly revelries with my daughters’ shoes.”

  Without another word, King Rothschild turned and stormed toward the door. He shot us one last exasperated look and flung the door open. “I shall disown all of you and turn you out onto the streets!”

  The queen let out a sigh and pressed her hands together patiently. “Of course we won’t disown you, my darlings. We’re just worried about your welfare. I shall bid the cobbler to make you new slippers, forthwith.” Peering at my hair more closely, she lifted a tendril, then dropped it as though it was too distasteful to touch. “And I shall tell your maid to draw a bath.”

  She looked as though she wanted to wipe her hand on something to clean it, but finding nothing, let it drop back at her side. “Very well.” Her tone implied the inspection was officially over. “Take what rest you need, and then see to your duties.”

  She gave us one last encouraging smile, and sailed out of the room, her gown trailing along the floor. The housekeeper went with her, apologizing the entire time.

  The princesses headed back to their beds. A few cast glances at me like they wanted to ask what had happened—or criticize me for coming home so bedraggled—but their gazes went to Donovan, and they didn’t speak.

  I wanted to join them, to skip the bath and curl up in bed for a long time. Donovan walked over to me and took hold of my hand to keep me from going. “You need to go talk to the goldsmith,” he whispered.

  I gestured to my soiled chemise and sooty arms. “I can’t go anywhere like this.”

  He placed his picture of the goblet in my hand. “You’re the one with the royal power. A goldsmith isn’t going to listen to me.”

  “I can’t just pull on some clothes and go,” I said. “In the Renaissance, I need an entire committee to make me presentable.” I went to my dressing table took my drawing of the goblet from a drawer, and handed both pictures to Donovan. “Show these to the goldsmith, and tell him I want the goblet finished as soon as possible. Say I’ll come later to discuss the project.”

  Donovan took the pictures, satisfied, and left.

  I went to the back room and collapsed on my bed, barely noticing that the sheets were dirty from where I’d laid on them before. They could get dirtier.

  It seemed like only moments later that my lady’s maid shook me awake, insisting that my bath was almost ready. I followed her to a small room where a procession of maids were pouring buckets of steaming water into a metal tub. A dressing table stood nearby, holding bottles of perfume, lotions, combs, ribbons, and other bits of finery.

  While I wai
ted for the maids to finish filling the tub, I pulled pins, bedraggled ribbons, and bits of seaweed from my hair. Once the tub was full, a maid unlaced my corset and peeled it off of me. She handed it to another servant, holding it between her thumb and forefinger like it was something that had recently died.

  The maids were prepared to stay, wash my hair, and scrub me off. I told them I would take care of that myself and dismissed them. A girl from the twenty-first century needed her privacy.

  As I took hold of the ties of my chemise, a cheerful voice behind me said, “So how did the ball go? Did Jason kiss you goodnight?”

  I turned and saw Chrissy perched on the dressing table, her wings flowing over the back. She wore a jean miniskirt, thigh-high black boots and a T-shirt that read “Team Sadie.” Clover ambled across the table beside her, kicking through some scattered pins. His Team Sadie T-shirt was pulled over his other clothes, making it look like a rumpled afterthought.

  “More importantly,” Chrissy added, “Do you have the goblet?”

  That was the thing that really mattered to her, the reason she’d come. I walked slowly toward her. “No, I don’t.”

  A spark of worry flitted through her eyes. “Donovan didn’t get it, did he?”

  “No. We both went for it at the same time and tipped it over. Queen Orlaith immediately locked it up.”

  Chrissy relaxed. “Well, there’s always tonight. You’ll have to find a way to get to it before he does.”

  I folded my arms. “Look, we need to talk about my wishes.”

  Clover sat down on the table and sighed with an air of martyr. “Ah, she has that tone mortals always use when they’re about to complain. You made me come here for this?”

  Chrissy waved her hand at him dismissively. “We’re being supportive, remember?”

  “Right.” He lifted his hand like he was giving me a high-five. “Go Team Sadie.”

  I ignored him. “I wished for Jason to love me. He doesn’t.” I held up a hand to stop Chrissy from speaking before I finished. “I’m not complaining about that. In fact, I would rather use that wish to take us all home.”