The queen pursed her lips. “They must have been evil books.”

“Evil, indeed.” Donovan’s gaze swept over the princesses, sizing us up, then returned to the queen and king. “What exactly have you done to solve this mystery?”

The queen pressed her hands together, careful to avoid draping her sleeves onto her plate. “We keep asking the girls to tell us what happens to their slippers. We constantly assure them of our love so they know they can trust us.”

In the same motherly tone, she added, “We also lock their door from both inside and out, and set armed guards in their hallway and below their windows—for their good, of course.”

The king picked the remaining bits of turkey from the bone. “I threaten them frequently with disinheritance unless these shenanigans stop. They’re obviously doing something they ought not.”

He used the bone like a pointer, jabbing it at one table and then the other. “Are you listening, daughters? I’ll sell you all to the first gypsy troop that comes by!”

The queen smiled tolerantly at us. “Of course we won’t do that, darlings. Our children are our greatest treasures.”

“Daughters,” the king muttered. “Twelve of them.” He tossed down the bone and picked up another turkey leg, sullenly chewing it.

The queen kept smiling at us, meeting each of our eyes as her gaze traveled around the room. “Remember my dear girls, you can do anything you set your mind to, because you’re so special.”

No wonder none of the princesses told their parents anything. They probably didn’t know whether they would get a pep talk or be banished.

The princesses smiled at their mother and ignored their father’s threat. They went back to eating and murmuring to each other, still eyeing Donovan coyly.

The queen called to a serving girl. “Set a plate for Prince Donovan. He’ll join us for supper.”

The girl curtsied and hurried toward a door that must have led to the kitchen. A stream of servants had been coming and going from it carrying trays and pitchers.

“To the business at hand,” the king said, chewing a bite of turkey while he addressed Donovan. “If you can tell me what my daughters do every night, I’ll give you one of them to wife and make you my heir. Are you fit for the challenge?”

“I hope so, Sire.”

Bits of turkey had fallen in the king’s beard and he wiped them off. “I hope so as well. I don’t like men traipsing around my daughters’ chambers. If you can’t solve the mystery within three nights, I’ll assume you’re a scoundrel—just here in the hopes of glimpsing royal nightgowns—and it’s the execution block for you.”

The queen leaned forward, smiling at Donovan. “I’m sure you’re a very nice young man, and we’d love to have you as a son-in-law.”

The king shook his turkey leg at Donovan. “And don’t attempt more than a glimpse at my daughters’ nightgowns, or I’ll think up something worse than execution for you.” He turned to the queen, picking up his goblet as he did. “We need to hire a wizard. One that can change eager young suitors into door stops.” He downed his drink in one swallow and then waved at a passing servant to refill his cup.

Another serving girl set a plate and utensils in the only available place, the spot at the end of the table next to me. The queen gestured toward it. “Please sit down, Prince Donovan. The girls love company.”

Oh yes. The princesses clearly loved company, evidenced by the fact they drugged the men who came here, thus dooming them to execution.

Donovan bowed to the king and queen, then strode to the seat next to mine. Once the king and queen stopped speaking, the minstrel began his tune again and the volume of chatter in the room picked up. The clink of silverware reminded me I’d had precious little to eat.

Donovan dropped into the seat at my side with a smile. “Princess Sadie, isn’t it?” His words held a mocking tone. He knew I was no more royalty than he was. “A pleasure to join you.”

I was not about to be taken in by his blue eyes and easy smile. He had grabbed the paper out of my hand in order to get here. He was my competition.

I matched his smile. “You have good manners for a guy with a criminal record. Is that something they teach in reform school?”

“Of course not.” He leaned back in his seat, unruffled. “I learned how to act around kings the same way every other twenty-first century guy learns—by watching movies and playing medieval computer games.” He glanced at the bread crust sitting on my plate. “Although I always thought princesses ate better. Food allergies?”

“No. The king punished me for coming to dinner late.”

“I guess you shouldn’t have spent so much time trying to send me away.”

Several servants arrived at Donovan’s seat, all bearing trays of food. One servant piled slices of turkey onto Donovan’s plate then drizzled gravy across them. Another servant spread butter on his bread and spooned steaming peas in garlic sauce onto his plate. A third came by and poured cider into his cup. The smell wafted over, flavorful and delicious.

I took a bite of my gritty crust, ripping it with my teeth. Dry crumbs fell back onto my plate. My stomach rumbled unhappily.

The servants finally left in search of more plates to fill, and Donovan dug into his meal, making happy “mmm” sounds. “This turkey is great,” he said between mouthfuls. “You should try it. Oh, wait . . . I forgot. You can’t.”

“Listen . . .” I leaned toward him so none of the other princesses would hear our conversation. “I understand you want to go back to the twenty-first century and your life of crime there, but I was here first, and I need the goblet. So can’t you let me have it? I mean, your probation officer won’t miss you much, and if you stick around here, you’ll earn riches, power, and your choice of princesses. That’s better than anything you could steal back home.”

“Sorry. I’m attached to indoor plumbing, electricity, medicine, Internet access—”

“You get an entire kingdom. That completely trumps plumbing.”

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “People travel by horse here. Horses are slow, uncomfortable, and don’t come with heating or air-conditioning.”

“But horses are cute.”

“Yeah, like that’s enough to convince me to give up technology.” He picked up his goblet and took a quick drink. “You can bat your eyelashes as much as you like. It’s not gonna get you anywhere.”

I snorted. “I wasn’t batting anything. I just want you to see reason.”

He took a bite of his turkey, watching me like I was a jigsaw puzzle he was trying to piece together. “I know your type. You flirt and guys give you whatever you want.”

“You don’t know me at all.”

“Hello. You wished to be a princess. That says a lot about you, Tiara-Girl.”

I leaned closer to him and dropped my voice. “I didn’t wish to be a princess. I wished to be a famous dancer.”

He let out a laugh, nearly spitting food from his mouth. He actually choked a little and had to cough a few times. “A famous dancer? Well, I take back everything I just said about you. That’s clearly a practical wish. Who doesn’t want to be remembered among the dancing ranks of . . .” he laughed again. “Are there actually any famous dancers?”

I ripped off another piece of crust. “I’m not going to feel guilty for beating you to the goblet.”

“Don’t be sure you will.”

I wanted to knock the smugness out of his expression. “Really? What do you think will happen if I tell the king you’re misbehaving in his daughters’ bed chamber?” I gazed upward, considering the idea and wondering if I could infer something to the king that would get Donovan thrown out of the castle.

Donovan’s eyes narrowed. “If you accuse me of anything, I’ll have eleven witnesses who’ll say I’m innocent.”

“I know you haven’t read the story, but trust me. The princesses are on my side.”