I peered around to make sure none of the servants had wandered into the room. “Look, Prince Donovan is different from the other guys who’ve tried to discover our secret. He won’t eat or drink anything we give him, and he has an invisibility cloak. He’s going to follow us tonight.”

I had imagined this revelation would cause a stir of alarm. Instead the princesses calmly continued on with their needlework. “Nonsense,” Rosamund muttered. “He ate well enough at supper.”

“An invisibility cloak?” Kayla asked scornfully. “Are you for real?”

Beatrix crinkled her nose. “I’ve never heard of such a device.”

“I have,” Catherine said. Her voice took on the tone of a teacher. “Emperor Marcos of the Eastern Empire purchased such an outfit from some cunning tailors. They insisted all but fools could see the thread, and he was too ashamed to confess he saw nothing himself.”

“Indeed,” Isolde said, continuing the story, “Emperor Marcos was so taken in by the scoundrels that he let them dress him in the pretended clothes and then strolled down the street among his subjects.”

Darby shook her head as primly as the other princesses. “That part of the story never made a lick of sense. If you know fools can’t see the clothes, why would you put on the outfit? Who wants a bunch of fools watching you parading around buck naked?”

Mathilda let out an airy laugh. “Whatever his reasons, he made quite a stir among his subjects.”

“To this day,” Catherine added, “the emperor still insists the material was real and his kingdom is full of fools.”

Clementia trimmed a piece of thread with a snip from her scissors. “Prince Donovan must have fallen victim of the same tailors. Poor, foolish handsome boy.”

“It’s not an invisible cloak,” I explained. “It’s one that makes you invisible.”

Penny threaded her needle with a red strand. “Did he seriously tell you that?” She had a valley girl accent. “That’s like, so lame.”

“He probably wanted to impress her,” Kayla put in. “You know how guys are.”

“Pray tell, where does he keep this cloak?” Elizabeth asked.

Isolde’s silver needle flashed in the light. “On his invisible horse, no doubt.”

Rosamund waved her hand dismissively. She was the oldest and her movements had the air of authority. “He’s the fifth son and has no inheritance. All of his belongings are invisible.”

It was clear I wasn’t going to convince the princesses about the cloak. I pressed the other point. “He knows we’re going to put sleeping powder into his drink. He’ll dump it out into a planter instead of swallowing it.” That’s what had happened in the fairy tale.

Rosamund eyed me with sharp reproach. “And how, I might inquire, did he learn of our sleeping droughts?”

I met her gaze. “A fairy told him.”

Elizabeth and Philippa shared a knowing look. “A fairy named Sadie, mayhap?”

“No, her name was Jade Blossom, and she . . .” I didn’t mention the goblet. If I told the princesses I needed to take it, they might stop me. They probably didn’t condone stealing goblets from fairy queens.

Mathilda put her hand to her chest in alarm. “Has a fairy betrayed our confidence?”

Elizabeth patted her arm reassuringly. “Don’t fret. This is simply one of Sadie’s wild tales. The fairies would do no such thing. Who amongst them would dare invoke Queen Orlaith’s wrath? No one shall ever know of our secret ball.”

Except for the hundreds of millions of people who would read the fairy tale in the future. “I’m not telling any wild tales,” I insisted. But I had no way to convince them. They weren’t going to believe I got the information from twenty-first century sources.

I looked to Kayla, Darby, and Penny for support. “You believe me, don’t you?” I lowered my voice. “He’s the soldier from the fairy tale. You know, The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Or eleven. It may have been ten or nine at one point.”

Penny and Darby looked at me blankly . . . which went to show that, despite Chrissy’s claim that the story was famous, not many people knew it. Kayla kept her attention on her embroidery and wouldn’t meet my eye. She wasn’t going to be of any help either.

“Positively addled,” Mathilda proclaimed.

Beatrix tilted her head, examining me like I was a patient. “Or ’tis the effect of too little sleep.” Her voice grew soft. “Do you wish to stay home tonight and rest?”

“No.” I sounded petulant, not calm and reasoning like I’d intended. I took a deep breath and tried again. “The point is, Donovan knows not to drink anything we give him. We can’t let him follow us. We need to come up with a Plan B.”

I realized I’d used the wrong phrase when all the BPs stared at me questioningly. “What do you think we should plan to be?” Elizabeth asked.

“I plan to be dancing with Frederick tonight,” Beatrix chimed. And the others quickly agreed, murmuring plans with various princes.

“That wasn’t what I meant—” I started.

Rosamund gave me silencing look. “We’ll have no more of your wagging tongue tonight. You’ve done nothing but stir up trouble since you came in for supper. First, you encouraged Prince Donovan to choose you above the rest of us, then you warned him not to take food or drink from our hand.”

“I didn’t warn him,” I sputtered. My denial fell flat and unheeded. Her accusation that I had encouraged Donovan to choose me put the other princesses in a sudden and intensely offended mood.

They began complaining about my shortcomings—including the fact that my affections for Prince Jason were clearly not pure since I’d allowed myself to be swayed by Prince Donovan’s charms and rugged looks.

Catherine punched her needle into her cloth, prim and sharp. “Sadie has come to believe what so many people say: we are twelve princesses, each more beautiful than the last.”

Isolde let out a humph. “You’re no fairer than the rest of us, Sadie, so put on no airs.”

Darby nodded. “And don’t give us your sass, either.”

And to think I’d always wanted a sister. Right now, I could do with eleven less.

Finally Rosamund raised her hand to quiet everyone. “You need not worry about Prince Donovan. I myself will ensure he drinks the sleeping drought.”

She sent me a stern look. “And you, dear sister, will do well to consider your indiscretions. If you do more to help Prince Donovan, we won’t allow you to come with us to the midnight balls.”

After that, I didn’t say much. Instead, I fumed and plucked at my needlework, taking out as many stitches as I put in. Not only had I failed to get the princesses help, but now they were threatening to leave me behind tonight.

Well, Rosamund wasn’t the only one who would be watching Donovan to make sure he drank the sleeping drought. I would too. If he didn’t take it, I would insist that none of us go dancing. Donovan couldn’t steal the goblet if he didn’t leave the castle.

An hour passed, maybe more. The BPs were expert embroiderers. They barely glanced at their thread and were somehow able to make it do their bidding. Smooth, bright leaves appeared in the tapestry, and delicate flowers bloomed under their fingers. The OPs weren’t quite as good, but still passable. My stitching was uneven, didn’t resemble anything found in a garden, and looked like a mistake from the beginning.

This caused a fair amount of head-shaking from the BPs, several attempts at instruction, and two predictions my prince would be embarrassed to carry any token I’d put my hand to.

I imagined when Jason saw me again, the state of my embroidery would be the least of his concerns. As I struggled with thread and needle, I made plans. If Jason and I worked together, we had a better chance of stealing the goblet. Perhaps he could distract the queen by serenading her. After all, he had that whole sultry, you-can’t-break-my-gaze thing going for him.

In between plotting theft, I listened to the princesses’ conversation, piecing together information about the country, our parents, and the princes. The more I knew, the easier I could pull off being a Capenzian princess. If the others realized I was clueless about everything, they’d undoubtedly realize something was wrong.