I thought of Kayla’s words and realized what was happening. The magic was taking effect. I was starting to lose my memories of my twenty-first century home.
“Make the goblet as fast as you can,” I told the goldsmith. “And send for me as soon as it’s done.” I left the smithy, focusing my mind on images of my real family. Mom, Dad, Alonzo. Our lazy cat, Pepper. I recited my phone number and locker combination. I pictured my house, my street, my school. It was hard to think of my old life clearly. I was too tired. I went back to my chambers in the castle, walked past my sleeping sisters, and climbed into my bed. Someone had put on clean sheets. I was glad for that. Moments later I fell asleep—corset, shoes, hair trappings and all.
* * *
When I woke up, my sisters were gone. Someone had left a drink, cheese, and a meat pie on my nightstand. I ate it hungrily, thankful the king hadn’t followed through on his threat to feed me nothing but bread and water.
After my lady’s maid repaired the damage I’d done to my hair by sleeping on it, I went downstairs to find Donovan. Madam Saxton told me he was having a lesson with the fencing master in the pasture near the stables.
I traipsed outside for the second time that day, slightly bothered by the fact that I knew where the stables were. The knowledge was just there, inserted by the magic of this wish. More proof that I was turning into Princess Sadie.
I strode toward the stables, flipping through memories of Kentucky, trying to keep them firmly in mind. The twenty-first century was home, not here. If it was summer like Kailen said, it must be a cold one. Instead of the humid eighty-five degree days I was used to, the temperature felt about sixty-five. I was glad for my layers of clothing.
It wasn’t hard to find Donovan practicing in the field. If I hadn’t heard the smack of wooden swords ringing across the grounds like a drum beat, I would have still noticed the audience. All eleven of my sisters stood beside the pasture fence, watching Donovan. Several of them had their fans out, demurely waving them back and forth.
I walked toward the group, wondering at their interest. Wondering, that was, until I got close enough to see Donovan better. Both he and the fencing master had stripped their tunics off, apparently too hot even for sixty-five degrees. They darted at each other, all gleaming muscles and testosterone. A grace accompanied Donovan’s movements—an easy strength. And for a guy who was a thief, he had nice abs. I wondered where he’d gotten the physique: tall, lean, and well-defined.
He had enough stamina that he must be an athlete. Swim team maybe, or track. He didn’t seem like the football players from my high school. They were a team off the court and on. Donovan struck me as the type who didn’t try to fit in with a group.
Really, though, I knew so little about him. That bothered me now. It also bothered me that my sisters were gathered around him like some sort of fan club. Literally.
Rosamund glanced at me with disapproval. “Pray tell, where is your hat?”
Each of them wore a jeweled or feathered cap that matched their gowns. Apparently royalty wasn’t supposed to step outside without one. I put my hand to my hair as though only now noticing I was hatless. “Oh,” I said, “I forgot . . .” that I should have studied Renaissance fashion before making any wishes. I hated the way being honest made me look stupid most of the time.
“What are you all doing out here?” I asked to change the subject.
Penny didn’t take her eyes off of Donovan. “We’re seeing what sort of king the new suitor would make.”
“I fear our military is in trouble,” Isolde added, but she was staring at him as admiringly as the others.
“Kings aren’t required to lead the charge,” Catherine pointed out. “Father doesn’t.”
“Father is too old for such things,” Elizabeth said, slowly fanning herself.
“Prince Donovan would lead the charge,” Clementia murmured. “He’s young. And strong.” Her lips curled upward hungrily. “And . . . inspiring.”
Philippa nudged her. “As inspiring as Eustace?”
Clementia put her hand to her chest, engulfing it in the rows of ruffles there. “Eustace shall always be my inspiration. I only meant that troops respect a man who is comely and well-built.”
“Prince Donovan is quite well-built,” Kayla agreed, letting her eyes roam over him.
“He knows nothing of sword fighting,” Mathilda put in. “What sort of kingdom is Hamilton-Ohio that their prince has never had a proper lesson?”
“True,” Beatrix said, her fan swaying lazily between her fingers. “But one can’t fault the kingdom for producing handsome men.”
Rosamund dragged her gaze away from Donovan long enough to give Beatrix a reproving look. “Would you say such a thing if Frederick were near?”
Beatrix fanned herself faster. “Prince Donovan has not tempted me away from Frederick. I only stated what nature has already made plain. I find it a pity that Father would execute such a handsome man.”
Rosamund rolled her eyes. “Father won’t execute him. Prince Donovan will run away on the third night like they all do.”
Catherine frowned, worried. “What if he can’t? He has no horse, and it’s clear enough he couldn’t fight his way past the castle guards.”
“Bend your knees!” the fencing master yelled above the sound of swords clashing. “Hold your shield firm!”
Donovan lunged forward, his sword swinging at the fencing master’s torso. The man blocked with a swing of his own, hitting Donovan’s sword so hard it was knocked from his grip. The sword clattered to the ground, spitting up dust.
The fencing master bowed slightly. “Well fought, Your Highness.”
Donovan shook his fingers to relieve the stiffness. “I’m afraid I’m a poor student.”
“Just an untaught one, Sire. You’ve the reflexes and height to make a good opponent. Do you wish to go another round?” The fencing master glanced over at us. “Or perhaps not.”
Donovan turned to see what the man was staring at. His gaze stopped on me. As his sort-of-betrothed, I suppose it wasn’t surprising the fencing master thought Donovan would rather spend time with me.
I expected him to announce that, no, he’d rather keep practicing. Guys and swords. When my older brother played computer quest games, it took something along the lines of a house fire to break his concentration.
Donovan picked up his sword from the ground and handed it and his shield to the fencing master. “I guess that’s enough practice for today. Thanks for your help.”
The man bowed again, this time with a knowing smile. Donovan gathered up his shirt and jacket from a fence post, putting them on while he walked over.
My sisters fell silent. Several more lacy fans flipped open, rippling in the air like butterfly wings. Isolde and Kayla smiled. Catherine batted her eyelashes. The whole group was practically purring. For girls who were supposed to be in love with other guys, they didn’t have any qualms about flirting.
When Donovan reached us, he put his hands on the top of the fence and swung himself up and over. He glanced at the fluttering fans and coy smiles then stopped in front of me and offered his arm. “Would you join me in a walk?”
It gave me an unreasonable jolt of pleasure to have him single me out. A silly reaction. He had only picked me because we were working together. We had strategies to discuss.
I slipped my arm through his. “Of course.”
We strolled away from the stables following the path that led around the side of the castle. Above us, the sky was a careless blue with foamy clouds drifting here and there. The grounds smelled of animals, smoke from the forge, and breezes wandering over the castle walls. A few meandering chickens pecked at the ground by the path.
“You’re pretty good with a sword,” I said.