A couple of the princesses screamed, which was totally unnecessary since they knew he was in the room. The housekeeper picked up the broom from the hearth, held it above her head, and went after Jason.
“Don’t!” I yelled, running toward her. “Don’t hurt him!”
You’d think she’d have listened since I was a royalty, but no, she swacked the broom down right next to Jason.
He let out a croak and leaped out of the way.
“Stop!” I shouted. The word was lost in the noise of princesses shrieking.
To their credit, many of them were yelling the same thing I was—for Madam Saxton to stop. Others were just screaming, which really didn’t help.
Jason was also screaming, but his small voice didn’t rise above the din. Madam Saxton brought the broom down again, this time near a dressing table. A jar of pins rattled in protest.
Jason leaped around the room with such vigor it almost looked like he was flying. One moment he was on the floor, the next on a table, then on the back of a chair. I chased after him, trying to grab him.
“I’ve got him!” Donovan shouted. He took off his cap, held it like it was a butterfly net, and rushed toward Jason’s flying form. Mid-leap, Donovan swooped the hat over the frog. He brought his hands together to close the cap, then tucked one hand behind him and held out the cap to us with a flourish.
I gulped, wondering what Donovan was going to do with Jason. Should I tell the king and queen of Jason’s enchanted prince status? Perhaps they would have pity on him. Perhaps they would help. Maybe Jason could think of a story about his identity and why he was here that wouldn’t reveal where the princesses went each night or who they danced with.
But if he couldn’t . . . if he didn’t even try . . . if the king found out about the secret now, he’d find a way to close the door to the fairy realm, and Donovan and I wouldn’t be able to go back for the goblet tonight.
Worse still, would the king consider Jason the prince who’d solved the mystery? If that happened, then he’d be required to marry one of the princesses, and I would be his choice.
The only thing I could think of that would be worse than being stuck here with Jason as a husband was being stuck here with Jason as a frog husband.
Donovan took a step closer to the housekeeper. “Would you be so good as to put this fellow outside?”
The housekeeper hurried over and took the cap from Donovan, making sure to keep the cap tight so the frog didn’t escape.
I bit my lip. How would we find Jason again? Madam Saxton could put him anywhere on the castle grounds. And what if she didn’t put him outside? What if this was one of those centuries where frog legs were a delicacy?
The king held out his hand for the cap. “Let me see the creature. It couldn’t have come this far inside on its own volition, and I hardly believe one of my daughters would have taken the thing for a pet.”
He regarded us, checking for contradiction.
At his side, the queen tut-tutted the idea. “The girls are too well-bred to drag a revolting toad inside.”
“I . . . I . . .” I tried to find a way to phrase my confession without lying. I couldn’t say I’d found the frog outside and wanted him as a pet. What could I say?
The king opened the cap and stared inside, perplexed. He turned the cap inside out. It was empty. The whole room let out a collective gasp of wonder.
My gaze went to Donovan. He winked at me, and I realized I’d just seen him do another magic trick.
“How can this be?” the king asked, shaking the cap as though it would explain itself if he throttled it enough.
The queen lifted her skirt and scanned the floor. “The toad vanished?”
The princesses lifted their skirts as well, each searching for a sign of green. Kayla whimpered with worry.
“Magic,” the queen breathed out. “This is more proof of it.” She let out a sob and hugged Kayla sympathetically. “My poor, poor girls. We must do something! We are beset with strange magic.”
Madam Saxton put her hand to her mouth, as distraught as the queen. “The fairies have cursed our poor princesses. What if none of them can marry? The kingdom will be bereft of heirs.”
At the phrase, “What if none of them can marry,” several of the princesses sniffled, two broke into tears, and Clementia cried out, “Don’t say we shan’t marry, Papa. That would be too cruel.”
The king tossed Donovan’s cap onto the floor. “Stop your wailing at once. Why would fairies curse my daughters? What have I ever done to provoke the fairy realm?”
Rosamund stepped toward him, shoulders square. “Perhaps we’re cursed because of the war—because you refuse to recognize the royal families of the rebelling provinces.”
She was, I knew, trying to turn the situation into something that would benefit her prince—all of the princes. The other girls agreed with her at once, chiming in that King Rothschild should grant the defeated royal families a few concessions.
The king waved a hand to stop them. “Bah! What care the fairies of the rights of mortals?”
He had a point there. None of the fairies I’d met cared about my rights.
“And what do they mean by this magic—disappearing toads and worn slippers? If any of the fae realm wish something, let them come and speak of it.”
“Well said, Sire.” Donovan gave him a slight bow. “Still, I think it would be wise if I could study the matter. Do you know of any wizards or books that deal in magic spells?”
The king gripped his walking stick, poking it at Donovan’s cap one last time. “We’ve no wizards here. Such men only make mischief. But if you’d like, you may search the castle’s book collection. We’ve writings aplenty on every subject.” He held up a finger, emphasizing his words. “You’ve only one day left. Read quickly.”
At that the king strode out of the room, an air of authority trailing him as though it had been an actual robe.
The queen didn’t follow. In a low voice she told us, “I’ll speak to your father about the rights of the provinces.” In a burst of motherly care, she squeezed Clementia’s hand, then stroked Isolde’s cheek with trembling fingers. “My poor cursed darlings. I would switch places with you if I could. Then you could be happy, and I would endure worn slippers for the rest of my days.” She gave a little sob, kissed Darby and Catherine’s foreheads, then hurried to the door, her shoulders shuddering with grief.
Madam Saxton left the room as well, our wash basins forgotten. “Toads in the castle,” she muttered. “What will be next? Snakes I suppose. And badgers after that.”
As soon as the door clicked shut, Donovan sidled up next to me. “I have the most wicked desire right now.”
“No,” I said, “You can’t bring snakes and badgers into the castle.”
He grinned. “But it would be fun.”
The princesses gathered around us, taking mincing steps in case Jason suddenly appeared on the floor. “What has become of . . .” Clementia cast a guarded look at Donovan. “. . . of the frog?”
A muffled voice came from somewhere inside the folds of Donovan’s jerkin. “Is it safe to come out now?”
Donovan reached around to the back of his jerkin and produced a bullfrog. Jason’s throat sack pumped in and out so fast his body rocked with the motion. His eyes seemed to swivel independent of each other. “Is the whacko with the broom gone?”
“A talking frog,” Donovan said, as though he hadn’t known this fact beforehand but wasn’t surprised such things existed. “No doubt the poor fellow is the victim of a magic spell, and you’ve taken him in to help him.”
Several of the princesses nodded. “His name is Prince Jason,” Rosamund admitted. “But don’t ask us to say more than that.”
Beatrix and Kayla crowded around Donovan’s hand. “We’re so glad you’re safe,” Kayla said.
Beatrix took Jason from Donovan’s hand and stroked her finger along his back like he was a lost puppy. “How did you manage to hide him?” she asked Donovan. “We saw you capture him in your hat.”