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I felt my hair. It was in some sort of updo with a tiara snuggled into its curls. I shook my head at Chrissy.
“What did you do that for?”
“It’s my job as your Fair Godmother. It’s all part of the Cinderella package you ordered during your first wish.” She gave me a satisfied smile. “This really is some of my best work. It’s a shame my ball gown professor isn’t here to see this. Oh, and you’ll need to be careful with those shoes. They’re dancing slippers. The rest is just fairy magic. Now then—onto the transportation. What sort of vegetables do you have lying around?” She opened the pantry door and I followed after her.
“I’m not Cinderella anymore and I don’t want to go to the feast—or the ball, or whatever you want to call it. I can’t go. It’s too dangerous.” I wasn’t sure if she’d be mad at me for getting rid of her enchantment, but I didn’t see a way around telling her. “I took some switching potion a few days ago and I can’t kiss anyone’s hand, or who knows what sort of enchantment I’ll end up with.”
She picked up an onion and turned it over in her palm, surveying it in an unconcerned manner. “That’s what gloves are for. Everyone wears them at these form-al events.” She walked to the kitchen door and stepped outside.
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I followed after her, looking at my hands. Between my sleeves and the gloves I wore, none of my arm was visible at all. The only skin showing was my face and neck.
Still, the thought of Simon frightened me. “That’s not the only problem. The wizard’s apprentice—well, actually he’s a goat now, but he used to be an apprentice—tried to poison me. What if he’s still around? He wanted me dead and I don’t even know why.” Chrissy tossed the onion in the air. It arced away from the inn, then just before it hit the ground, it splashed open into an ornate round carriage with gold trimming in the shape of leaves. The doors on each side had golden handles and glass windows. Chrissy walked toward it. “Ah yes, the poison. You really haven’t given that the thought it deserves, have you?”
“I’ve had other things on my mind. Mostly impending doom—thieves, cyclopses, dragons—and my ex-boyfriend dropping by.”
Chrissy opened the door and leaned into the carriage, sniffing. “If you want my opinion, you should ask yourself why Simon would want to kill you.”
“I have asked myself that. Unfortunately I don’t have any good answers.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Does this carriage smell like onions to you?”
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I sniffed and nodded. It did. “So, do you know why he wanted to kill me?”
She waved her wand at the carriage and once again it was an onion lying on the ground. She tapped her wand against her dress, thinking.
I didn’t want to disturb her in case she was thinking of the answer to my question, even though I knew it was more likely she was recalculating her carriage. Finally she turned and stalked back into the kitchen, but I stayed there trying to decipher the riddle.
Why would Simon want to kill me? I couldn’t think of a reason at all. He didn’t even know me. What possible advantage could he gain from my death, a virtual stranger?
Then the other thing I knew about him clicked into place. He had contact with Princess Margaret before he became a goat. I knew this because she somehow got my ring from him. The next thought made my heart pound harder. What if he hadn’t given me the vial of poison at all? What if he had given me something else—just as he’d said—and he’d sold the vial of poison to Margaret?
Who would she want dead? If she was in league with the Black Knight, she’d want to kill the man most likely to defeat him—and that meant Tristan.
A painful gasp escaped my lips. I had to warn him. I had to tell him not to eat any of the castle food. Was it 338/431
already too late? I had to leave right now. I ran toward the kitchen, but Chrissy was on her way out, grasping a turnip in one hand. “It isn’t my fault your pantry isn’t equipped with a pumpkin,” she told me. “They should be standard at your basic inn. I can only work with what I’ve got.”
“Does Princess Margaret want Tristan dead? Is that it?” I asked.
She threw the turnip into the air, waved her wand, and once again a carriage appeared. This one was not as round as the last and looked a little misshapen at the edges but otherwise appeared just as elegant. “I’m a Fair Godmother, not a private investigator. You’ll have to figure out those sorts of things on your own.” She walked to the carriage, peering inside. “But don’t worry. Despite what you keep telling yourself, you are smart enough to do it.” She opened the door, leaned in, and sniffed.
When she turned back to me, a smile of triumph lit up her face. “No smell at all. Now, in you go while I round up some mice to turn into horses.” As I climbed into the carriage, she looked back at the inn distastefully. “At least I know I’ll have no trouble finding those.” Which is another thing about the Middle Ages: it had vermin galore. I probably didn’t need to know how many mice were in the place where I was eating and sleeping, but I couldn’t keep myself from looking.
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After she went inside, mice flew out of the kitchen door. At first one, then two more, five, then seven—I was going to have to look more carefully at the inn food before I ate it—and finally twelve in all. As they hit the ground they transformed into beautiful white mares.
Each shook its mane out, then trotted over to the carriage. Once near, the carriage put out tendrils that wound around the horses’ necks, turning into harnesses.
Last of all, Scuppers, the scruffy inn dog, ran out the door. Before he’d taken two steps he transformed into a coachman wearing fine clothes—but still with scruffy pale hair. He also had a wild-eyed expression, like he was still partially dog. He bent his face toward my window and panted at me before climbing up on the carriage to take the reins.
Okay, that worried me in a driver.
Chrissy appeared at my window, holding the wand and beaming happily. “Everything is perfect and Prince Edmond is waiting for you.” She let out a dreamy sigh.
“He is such a babe.”
“Are you sure you got the coachman right? He looks a little off.”
She glanced up at the carriage seat and her voice grew stern. “Come back here, Scuppers.” She snapped her fingers. “Right here. Now sit. That’s a good dog.” She turned back to me, her voice smooth and calm again.
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“He’ll be fine. Besides, the mice know the way to the castle. Trust me, if they serve food there, the mice can find it.” She stepped back and waved at me like I was on a homecoming float. “Have a good time! Fall in love!
And remember, at midnight you’ll be wearing nothing but a stained sheet and driving a turnip!” I waved back and called out to her, “Thank you!” Really, for once it had paid off to have a fairy godmother.
• • •
The trip to the castle went by quickly, which was good since I was racing the sun across the sky. Even though Scuppers didn’t do anything to actually drive the horses—every once in a while I caught sight of him leaning sideways over the driver’s box, like a dog hanging his head out a car window—the horses raced up the road that led to the castle. They didn’t seem to know how to do anything but gallop. Perhaps because mice scurry when they’re trying to go somewhere. The sunlight was already fading and I hoped they still had their micelike nocturnal vision.
I caught a glance of my reflection in the window and barely recognized myself. Glittering makeup outlined two large eyes. Perfectly pink lips opened in surprise, 341/431
and the tiara on my head sparkled among braids and curls.
I hadn’t realized I was wearing jewelry, but amethysts and diamonds clustered on both my ears and throat. I looked exactly like the princesses of every fairy tale I’d ever read.
I touched the amethysts at my throat gingerly, each smooth stone emphasizing the irony of my situation.