My mind flicked back to the forest, back to the glittering trees. “All that sparkly fruit I saw last night—those were actually magic wishes?” I straightened, hope rising. “If I got one, could I use it to wish my way home?”

“Only ripe wishes work,” Chrissy emphasized. “When they turn soft and white, then they’ve got magic.” She dropped the stone into my hand. “If you ate this, it wouldn’t do anything except give you indigestion.”

I put the stone on the table, disappointed. I didn’t remember seeing white fruit on any of the trees last night. “None of the fruit is ripe?” Donovan had an enchanted cloak. If there were any ripe wishes hanging around, he could manage to steal one.

Chrissy shook her head sadly. “Now you understand why Queen Orlaith is so desperate to find a cure. Can you imagine running out of magic? It would be like being mortal, except, you know, better looking.” Chrissy let out a small laugh and put her hand on her chest. “Sorry. For a moment I forgot you’re one of the magicless.”

She returned to the dressing table and sat primly on the stool, pressing her hands together like a teacher starting a lesson. “Let’s get back to the important stuff—the goblet. What question did Queen Orlaith ask it?”

“She asked why the trees weren’t growing.”

Chrissy leaned forward eagerly. “What answer did the goblet give?”

“It said the trees needed love. Apparently it’s given that answer for awhile.”

“That’s all it said?” She frowned. “That can’t be the solution. No one loves the trees more than the fairies.”

Her attention to this detail, hinted at what she hadn’t said. “Are the Seelie Courts’ trees in trouble too? Is that why you want the goblet?”

Chrissy didn’t answer. Instead she picked up her wand from the table and fiddled with it.

“They are, aren’t they?” The thought of more barren magical trees was sad. All those wishes withering and dropping.

“Our trees aren’t as bad as the Unseelie Court’s,” Chrissy admitted, “but they’re struggling too. The goblet should disclose the solution. I wonder why it’s saying the same thing.” Her brows furrowed together and she tapped her wand against the palm of her hand in thought. “Maybe it’s a riddle. Do you remember the exact wording?”

I shook my head.

“Tonight, remember it.” Her brows were still drawn in a perplexed line.

“What will happen if your trees don’t grow?”

Chrissy’s wings slowly swept open and closed, reminding me of the princesses’ lacy fans. “Mortals shouldn’t bother themselves with fairy matters. It leads to temptation, which leads to mortals trying to work magic for themselves, which leads to either quick deaths or lives of wizardry.”

She stood, walked over to me, and patted my arm. “You don’t want either of those. You’d look horrible with a long, scraggly beard.”

From the dressing table, Clover let out a long snore. His chin jiggled against chest, making his beard quiver.

Chrissy let him sleep. “So what’s your plan to get the goblet tonight?”

I didn’t want to give details about that. Vagueness was my best approach. “I’m working on it today. Any suggestions?”

“Don’t let Orlaith catch you. She’s not the forgiving type.” Chrissy glanced back at the dressing table. “Oh, and don’t go with the perfume in the blue bottle. It smells like something horrid lives inside. And speaking of unpleasant smelling things . . .” She pointed her wand at Clover and a poof of sparkles knocked into his chest.

Clover swatted at the glitter, sputtering, “I’m awake. I’m awake.” He stumbled to his feet, still batting the air. “Go team Sadie.” A yawn. “We believe in you.”

Chrissy turned back to me. “Call me as soon as you have the goblet, and you’re out of Queen Orlaith’s land.” She gave me a sly smile, leaning toward me conspiratorially. “I bet Jason kisses you tonight. That’s something to look forward to.”

No, not really.

Hundreds of tiny lights appeared in the room, swirling around Chrissy and making her wings glow incandescent. When the lights cleared, she was gone.

Clover took off his bowler hat and wiped glitter from it. “Fairies. They can’t leave without making a production of it.”

He placed the hat back onto his head, giving it a tug to hold it in place. “Do me a favor, lass. If Queen Orlaith does catch you, leave my name out of your confessions. It’s always been a goal of mine not to be changed into anything unnatural.” He adjusted his hat one last time then departed too.

I thought of his words the entire time I bathed.

Chapter 19

After I washed off the traces of the night, I put on a clean chemise and stockings. My lady’s maid dressed me in a corset, slip, bum roll, a green bodice, and matching green overskirt. She tied blue silk sleeves to the bodice, which matched a panel sewn onto the underskirt, and also matched the stiff triangle of material attached to the bodice, called a stomacher.

She hooked on a metal belt that hung decoratively around my skirt—and didn’t hold anything up—then finished off my outfit with a necklace, bracelet, and set of earrings. After that was done, she braided my hair and weaved blue ribbons into it.

When I was sufficiently beautified and royalified, I paid a visit to the goldsmith. The smithy backed up to a far wall on the castle grounds, a gray stone building tinged with moss. The clang of a hammer and smoke from the forge greeted me long before I got there. I stepped inside the doorway, enjoying the warmth that curled around the room, as cozy as a sleeping cat. It was a welcome change from the morning chill.

The goldsmith was bent over a table, studying something with a frown. He was a middle-aged man with calloused hands and biceps as big as my thighs. He wore an apron that may have once been beige but was now smudges of different shades of black. A younger apprentice stood in the back of the smithy, beating some poor, helpless piece of metal. When the goldsmith straightened, I saw he was examining Donovan’s picture of the goblet. Good. That meant he was working on it.

I cleared my throat to get his attention. “Excuse me. I came to ask when the goblet will be finished.”

He grunted like I’d insulted him. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Prince Donovan, his royal impatience. These things take time. I can’t have it to you faster than tomorrow night, no matter how much you pay me.”

I tried not to panic at the news. Donovan only had two more nights until he had to either rat out my sisters and me, or face execution.

My sisters and me. When had I started thinking of the other princesses as sisters? We weren’t really related, and yet it was beginning to feel like we were. It seemed like I had known them for far longer than a day.

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.