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Praise for MERCEDES LACKEY

"She'll keep you up long past your bedtime."

New York Times bestselling author Stephen King

"Lively and original, rich in clever ideas...Lackey is one of the best storytellers in the field."

Locus

"A writer whose work I've loved all along."

New York Times bestselling author Marion Zimmer Bradley

"In this elegant, compelling fantasy from the prolific author of the Valdemar series (Arrows Fall, etc.) Lackey combines meticulously detailed dragon lore with emotionally intense, realistic human characters.... This uplifting tale, which contains a valuable lesson or two on the virtues of hard work, is a must-read for dragon lovers in particular and for fantasy fans in general."

Publishers Weekly on Joust

"...with [Lackey], the principal joy is story: she sweeps you along and never lets you go."

Locus

"[Lackey] shows a sure touch with the wonder and adventure that characterize the best fantasy writers."

Romantic Times

"This is a charming, colorful and romantic coming-of-age tale, deeply imbued with the concept of responsibility as well as the imagined pleasures of power."

Publishers Weekly on Winds of Change

*Starred Review* "[Lackey] fills the book with well-limned characterizations and convincing, detailed dragon lore to make up a whole in which Vetch's coming-of-age becomes an integral part. Fans of McCaffrey's Pern will love it, but they won't be the only ones who do."

Booklist on Joust

THE FAIRY GODMOTHER

First edition January 2004 THE FAIRY GODMOTHER

ISBN 0-373-80202-1

Copyright © 2004 by Mercedes Lackey

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Worldwide Library, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

Visit LUNA at www.luna-books.com Printed in U.S.A.

Dedicated to the members of the FDNY, lost 9/11/01

Battalion 1

Paul Mitchell

Matthew Ryan

Battalion 2

Richard Prunty

William McGovern

Battalion 6

John Williamson

Battalion 7

Orio Palmer

Stephen Harrell

Philip Petti

Battalion 8

Thomas DeAngelis

Thomas McCann

Battalion 9

Edward Geraghty

Dennis Devlin

Carl Asaro Alan

Feinberg

Battalion 11

John Paolillo

Battalion 12

Fred Scheffold

Battalion 22

Charles Margiotta

Battalion 47

Anthony Jovic

Battalion 48

Joseph Grzelak

Michael Bocchino

Battalion 49

John Moran

Battalion 50

Lawrence Stack

Battalion 57

Joseph Marchbanks, Jr.

Dennis Cross

SOC Battalion

Charles Kasper

Safety Battalion 1

Robert Crawford

Tactical Support 2

Joseph Mascali

Special Operations

Timothy Higgins

Michael Russo

Raymond Downey

Patrick Waters

Division 1

Thomas Moody

Joseph Farrelly

Division 11

Timothy Stackpole

Division 15

Martin Egan, Jr.

Thomas Haskell, Jr.

William O'Keefe

Chapter 1

This is not the way to spend a beautiful spring morning! Elena Klovis thought, as she peered around the pile of bandboxes in her arms. They were full of hats, so they weren't particularly heavy — unlike most of her stepmother's luggage — but they were very awkward to carry. There was a lark serenading the morning somewhere overhead, and Elena wished with all her heart she was him and not herself.

Still, if nothing went wrong, in a few hours she just might be free! If not as free as a bird, at least better off than she was now.

She took a few more steps, feeling her way carefully with her bare toes, and caught sight of the neighbors peering over the rose-covered wall as she passed by their perch. They must have been standing on boxes or a bench to do so, and even at that, all that could be seen of them was the tops of their caps, a few little greying curls escaping from beneath the lace, and two sets of eyes, blue and bright with curiosity.

Their curiosity would have to wait. She didn't have time to satisfy it right now.

Elena felt her way on towards the carriage, the bandboxes swaying dangerously with each step. Madame Blanche and Madame Fleur knew better than to call out to her when she was in the middle of a task, and even if they hadn't been, she wouldn't have answered. Not now. Elena was not in the mood to take either her stepmother's sharp tongue nor the blows of her cane, and if the carriage wasn't packed soon, Madame Klovis would be delivering up both.

She made a few more careful steps. It would have been easier if she'd been properly shod instead of barefoot, but the only shoes she had were the wooden clogs she'd carved herself for winter, and the wooden pattens for rain. The last time she'd asked for shoes, her stepmother had flown into a rage and beaten her so hard that her back ached now at the memory.

Sometimes she thought about what would happen if she snatched that cane away and struck back — and wondered if it would be worth what would follow.

It wouldn't, of course. The girls would run to get help, and Elena couldn't possibly get away before she was caught. First would come the constables, who would charge her before the magistrate for assault, and the law was on her stepmother's side. An unmarried girl was the ward and property of her parents, who could do whatever they wished with her. Of course, most parents were good and kind, and would never hurt their children, not even when they were the children of another marriage — but when they were not, well there was no recourse for the child, none at all....