“Not nearly as good as King Rothschild’s men.”
“You won’t have to fight them. I’ll help you escape, if it comes to that.”
We didn’t say more because two men rolled a barrel by us. Donovan stopped and pulled me to his other side, out of their way.
“There are gardens behind the castle,” he said. “Let’s go there. It’s a good place to talk.”
The grounds were so large, it would take a while to reach the back. I didn’t mind. I liked walking this way, with my hand on Donovan’s arm. It made me feel elegant and protected. “I wonder why men don’t offer their arms to women in our century?”
“You mean besides the fact that I look like a dork?”
“You don’t. You look like a gentleman.”
“I guess nobody wants to look like a gentleman in high school. Go figure.”
I remembered I had resolved to get to know him better. “Do you play sports at your school?”
“Too busy. Especially now that I’ve got court-mandated service hours.”
A few chickens scurried away from our feet, clucking indignantly at our intrusion. “I thought maybe you were on a swim team. You’re a good swimmer.”
“Growing up, the city pool was cheaper than air conditioning. I spent a lot of time there.”
I felt a pinch of sympathy, an ache that he’d endured so much. “Was your entire childhood terrible?”
He blinked, taken aback. “Who said my childhood was terrible? Hanging out at the pool was more fun than the piano lessons I bet your parents forced you to take every summer.”
“They didn’t force me to take piano. Although they did pressure me to take some extra flute lessons so I could play with the school band.”
“That’s worse,” he said. “The horrors.”
“And I didn’t take lessons during the summer. I went to camp.”
He shook his head sadly. “Forced to leave home and bunk with strangers in primitive conditions.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “I guess happiness is a matter of perspective.”
Across the courtyard, a couple men called to one another. A maid walked by carrying sloshing buckets of water. Such different sounds than our century. No whoosh of cars passing or distant rumble of planes.
Donovan glanced around to make sure no one was near enough to hear him. “Jade Blossom checked in on me earlier.”
“What did she say?”
“Despite the fact that wishes are supposed to be confidential, someone leaked our situation to the Seelie Court.” The Seelie Court—the one Chrissy belonged to. “The good news is the fairy bookies are giving three-to-one odds I’ll manage to steal the goblet, and you’ll be turned into a woodland creature by Queen Orlaith.”
“I don’t think you understand the definition of good news.”
He laughed, teasing. “It’s good news for me. I’ve never been a favorite. My ego needs the boost.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Guys as good looking as Donovan had fully-boosted egos. They just came that way.
“I decided to find out if giving Queen Orlaith sleeping powder was possible, so I asked Jade Blossom whether fairies can be drugged. She said they can’t.” He shrugged. “She may have said that so I didn’t get any ideas about drugging her. She looked at me nervously after I asked.”
Well, there went our only Plan B.
We rounded the corner of the castle. A garden the size of a football field greeted us, complete with trees, hedges, and bushes sculpted into geometric patterns. Flowered trellises stretched over orderly paths. Angel sculptures stood guard, wings folded, eying us. We strolled toward the main path.
“I talked to the goldsmith,” I said. “He can’t have the goblet done until tomorrow. That means we’ll only have one night to get the real one. After that, you’ll have to leave the castle so the king won’t execute you.”
“Or I could reveal the princesses’ secret and marry you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“What?” he asked. “You don’t think marriage would be better than my death?”
I hadn’t thought about actually marrying him. Now that he mentioned it, the possibility seemed startling, and awkward, and intriguing all at once. “You can’t tell the king where we go at night. If you do, he’ll end the balls, and we’ll lose our chance to steal the goblet.”
“Which is still slightly better than death,” Donovan said.
“I didn’t mean—”
Donovan held up his hand to stop me. “Look, there’s no point worrying about King Rothschild killing me in a couple days, when it’s much more likely that Queen Orlaith will kill us both tomorrow night. Let’s worry about our deaths in the right order.”
Donovan had spoken tongue in cheek, but he was right. If Queen Orlaith caught me, she would exact a fierce revenge.
“Stop frowning,” he said, nudging me. “We can pull this off. You have two days to practice your thieving skills, and luckily, you’ll be learning from a master.”
He stopped walking and looked me over like I was a project that required a lot of work. “Ever stolen anything before?”
“Just cookies from the cupboard.”
“Do you know any magic tricks?”
“Nope.”
He lifted one of my sleeves. “Too bad. You could put a lot up these.”
I tugged my sleeve away from him and slid my arm through his so we could walk again. “It’s not as if I need a lot of skill. I’ll just wait until no one is looking and switch the goblets.”
Donovan let out a scoff. “That’s the sort of attitude amateurs have. And do you know what they get?” Before I could answer, he said, “Caught.”
“Wait, weren’t you caught?”
“I’ve never been caught.” We’d reached a gate leading to a pond and more flowerbeds. The air here was thick with the scent of crisp blossoms and lazy, waiting buds. He opened the gate and stood aside so I could pass. High school student or not, he had the gentleman thing down. I walked inside, waited for him to join me, and we sauntered over to a stone bench underneath a willow tree.
“If you were never caught,” I asked, “how come you’re on probation?”
He motioned for me to sit on the bench. “That’s another story.”
I sat down and smoothed out my skirt. “We’ve got time. Tell me.”
“You need to practice first.” He opened up the leather bag that hung from his belt, pulled a bronze coin out, and held it up. Tapping it with his finger, he said. “Here we have a coin with King Rothschild’s face stamped on it. Completely solid. Nothing fake about it. Although really, probably not the most flattering picture as part of his nose seems to have worn off.”
“Wait—you didn’t steal that coin from someone at the castle, did you?”
“I borrowed it for teaching purposes. Heads or tails?” He flipped the coin into the air, caught it, and slapped it on the back of his hand. “If you call it, you can have my dessert tonight. If you’re wrong, I get yours.”
“Tails,” I said.
He moved his hand. The coin was gone.
“Your first lesson is this: never bet with a thief. You’ll lose every time.” He reached behind my ear and the coin appeared in his hand again. “Ah, it’s heads. I hope there’s something good for dessert.”
I folded my arms. “So what does cheating at a coin toss have to do with stealing the goblet?”
“Patience, Tiara Girl.” He flipped the coin, caught it, and slapped it on the back of his hand. “Do you know the secret of this trick?”
“I’m guessing it’s not that I have magical, wealthy ears.”
“A sleight of hand. It’s something good magicians and good thieves have in common.” He lifted his hand, showing me that although it looked flat, the coin was cupped in his palm.
“The trick to palming a coin is you need to practice making your hand look normal.” He brought his hands together, scratching the underside of his wrist. Then he held his hands apart again. “Where’s the coin?”
I hadn’t seen him transfer the coin to his left hand, but I couldn’t be certain. I glanced at one hand, then the other.