Beatrix stretched her feet, enjoying the freedom of being shoe-less. “It’s the cobbler to be blamed, certainly, and not—as our father suggests—mischief on our part.”
“We’re free of mischief,” Clementia agreed.
“I don’t know about her,” Darby said in a confidential tone, “But I’m certainly free.”
Penny sauntered past Donovan on her way to a chair. “Don’t tease him. He already chose his favorite princess.” She batted her eyelashes. “Without even meeting any of the rest of us. Your loss, Prince Donovan.”
Several of the princesses giggled. Catherine murmured, “Sadie is a good choice for you.”
“A very good choice,” Kayla said.
Isolde and Mathilda both winked at me as though sending me a message—that I totally didn’t get. My gaze went back and forth between them in an attempt to explain that I wasn’t in on their facial gestures. Isolde rolled her eyes and Mathilda just laughed at me.
Donovan didn’t comment on my suitability as a choice. “I’ll check your bedroom before you go to sleep,” he said, and headed there. The princesses went back to their conversations with each other, unconcerned.
When Donovan came back, he circled the room, still examining things, then finally sat in the chair beside me. “So,” he whispered, “are you planning on killing me yet?”
“No, but there’s always room on my agenda later.”
His gaze drifted over the princesses. “This is just my luck. I’m locked in with a dozen beautiful women, and they all want me dead. I couldn’t get to sleep tonight if I tried.”
I leaned closer to him so our voices wouldn’t carry. “To clarify, we don’t want you dead. We just don’t want you to discover our secret, and unfortunately, the byproduct of that may be your execution.”
“I feel so much better.”
“Although I’m not even sure about the execution. Is the king serious about killing you after three nights, or is that one of those I’ll-sell-you-to-gypsies threats?”
“I don’t plan on finding out.” Donovan had picked up a brass coin from somewhere, and he fiddled with it while he peered at the door to our bedroom. “I thought being a princess meant you didn’t have to share a room. Obviously your other wish wasn’t for privacy.”
I smiled despite myself.
He turned the coin from one finger to another in a practiced way. “What was your other wish?”
“Why do you keep asking?”
“Because I think you’re interesting.” His smile was too broad. He was trying to charm me.
“I’d rather be mysterious and not tell you.”
He flipped the coin into the air and without looking, caught it. “There’s got to be a secret passageway in here. It’s the only way you could get out.”
There was, and I didn’t want him searching for it. Time to change the subject. “Jade Blossom has a lot of confidence in your stealing abilities, but it seems to me that the really good criminals wouldn’t get caught and be given probation officers.”
“I never claimed to be really good.” He flipped the coin again. “Of course that doesn’t mean I’m not.”
Was he denying the claim or bragging about it? I couldn’t figure him out. “How did you get caught?”
“I didn’t. I just had some bad luck.” He couldn’t hide the grimace that flashed across his features. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t pleasant.
Perhaps it was misery hoping for company, but right then I wanted to know his story. “I’ll tell you how I earned my fairy godmother, if you give me the details of how you earned yours.”
His eyebrows lifted with curiosity. “All right. You go first.”
I told him about the audition, about how nervous I’d been, and how my voice cracked onstage. Until that moment, I hadn’t thought about the incident with anything except horror, but somehow telling Donovan about it took out some of the sting—made it seem almost funny. Maybe being stuck in the wrong century put it in perspective. “Jason Prescott was one of the judges,” I said. “After he Xed me, he told the entire audience I had no talent.”
Donovan scoffed. “Like Jason Prescott would know talent if it walked up and punched him.”
Or threw up nearby. Donovan was clearly not a Jason fan. A part of me felt relieved about that. Not everyone would care what Jason said about my singing. Another part of me wanted to defend him.
My hand automatically went to the locket underneath my chemise. “He’s made millions of dollars and he’s only twenty. You can’t do that without talent.”
“His music sucks.” Donovan flipped the coin again, catching it with only two fingers this time. “The only reason his stuff sells is that stupid girls think he’s cute. A singing cocker spaniel would do as well.”
I repressed a shudder. “I think one of those was actually at the competition.”
“Did it win?”
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t throw up on the stage. So anyway you look at it, the dog did better than I did.”
Donovan laughed. It had an easy, open sound to it. “I would have loved to see that.”
“If you go back to the present, you will. Chrissy told me the video will go viral.”
“Think of it as a commentary on the quality of the show’s judges.”
I shook my head, momentarily shutting my eyes against the memory. “The whole thing was so horrible that it qualified me for the fairies’ pitiable damsel outreach program. That’s how I got my fairy godmother.”
Donovan bit back another laugh. “I’m sure it will be one of those here-today-gone-tomorrow videos.”
Yeah, right. Donovan was too busy containing his laughter to convince me of that. I knew he would look up the video as soon as he got home . . . and then probably post it on all of his social media.
“When Chrissy showed up in my hotel room, having a fairy godmother seemed like a good thing. I mean, who doesn’t want three wishes?” I tugged at the back of my nightcap, adjusting the ruffle. “And then I wound up here.”
“Exactly. That whole fairy godmother angle is just an excuse for fairies to mess with us.”
“They should come with warning labels.”
Donovan cocked his head. “Wait, did you just tell that story so I’d feel bad for you and let you have the goblet?”
“No.” I hadn’t even thought of trying to gain his sympathy.
“’Cause that’s not going to work.” He straightened, pulling away from me, then glanced around the room, to see what the other princesses were doing. Most of them sat talking in the chairs by the fireplace. Isolde and Clementia were passing silver goblets out to everyone. Catherine followed them with a bottle, filling each cup.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck here,” Donovan told me. “And I feel bad about your vomiting video problems, but I need to go back home.”
“Yeah, to see your probation officer. It would be a shame if you missed that appointment.”
“I have a brother who needs me, okay?”
“Fine,” I said. “Clearly no one needs me.”
“I never said that.”
He didn’t have to. I’d just thought it myself. Who at home needed me? Not my parents who were busy with their careers, not my older brother away at college, not any one at school. No one needed me. I wasn’t even sure how much anyone would miss me.
I forced a smile. “Now it’s your turn to confess. How did you earn a fairy godmother?”
Donovan turned the coin between his fingers again. “It was nothing as dramatic as your story.”
“Well, not everybody can splatter Jason Prescott’s judging podium.”
Donovan didn’t say anything for a moment. “I’m not sure you want to hear it. It won’t make you feel better.”
I did want to hear it—all the more because of his secrecy, but Rosamund and Philippa didn’t give me a chance to answer. They came over, carrying two goblets apiece, both already filled with drink.