“Unlock the door from your side,” the guard called. “I’ll check to make sure nothing is amiss.” We heard the sound of the outside bolt sliding across the door.

“No need.” Rosamund said. “My sisters still sleep, and I don’t wish to wake them. Go back to your post. In truth, nothing is amiss.”

The princesses were making so much noise hanging up their dresses and putting away their slips, corsets, and underskirts, I didn’t expect the guard to buy Rosamund’s explanation.

“Methought I heard a man’s voice.” the guard said.

“That was Prince Donovan,” Rosamund assured. “He heard me call out and asked what ailed me. Even now he is searching the rooms to make sure nothing snuck inside.”

“Ah,” the guard said. He now had an explanation for the rustling coming from the room. “Very well then.”

He slid the bolt back across his side of the door. We let out breaths of relief—and not just because our corsets were finally off. As Penny pulled on her nightgown, she sent me a dark look. “You shouldn’t have brought Jason here. If he’s discovered . . .”

“He’s a frog,” I said. “How hard can it be to hide him?”

I finished changing, then picked Jason up and carried him to my dressing table. “Once it’s morning, I’ll ask around the castle to see if anyone knows how to break a fairy’s curse. We might find a way. Until then, you need to stay hidden from the king, okay?”

Jason squatted in an angry frog stance. “I’m not happy about this.”

“If you remember, I warned you not to touch the goblet.”

“Being turned into a frog is only part of it.” His throat sack pulsed in and out. “What do you see in the invisible guy?”

“Is that a trick question?” I peered into my pitcher to make sure it had water. It did. I gently lowered Jason inside.

He floated on the water, legs and arms outstretched. “I heard the two of you talking about your pasts. Why would you want a guy with a criminal record when you could have a guy with a multimillion dollar record deal?”

I titled my head, not sure I understood. “Are you saying you have feelings for me?”

He gazed at me with his big, googly eyes. “At first I didn’t think I did, but when you sat on the couch with Donovan, I hated it. I feel like, well, maybe I’m in love with you after all.”

Not this. Not only did I have a frog problem, I had a forlorn frog problem. Could I have done anything else to mess up Jason’s life? I bent closer to the pitcher. “The love isn’t real, you know. You only feel this way because my fairy godmother cast a spell on you.”

He floated there in the water, unmoving and miserable. I tried again. “Your real girlfriends are way more impressive than me—models, rock stars, actresses. I’m no one important . . . just a girl from Kentucky.”

“I know,” he said. “And that makes it even worse. How can I ever introduce you to my friends? I can’t. I’ll have to keep you a secret.”

I stopped feeling sorry for him then. “Be sure to stay out of sight,” I reminded him, then went to my bed, settling in for what little sleep was left. As soon as I shut my eyes, I heard a small voice with an Irish accent near my ear. “So, judging by the fact you’re lying about, I take it you didn’t get the goblet tonight?”

I opened my eyes. Clover stood on my pillow. He wore his rumpled Team Sadie T-shirt over his other clothes. It had a small footprint on it, as though he’d pulled it off his floor and put it on.

“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t get the goblet.”

“How’s Donovan getting on?” Clover asked. “I have, er, a friend who has a bit of money on him.”

Sure he did. I pulled myself up on one elbow. “Clover, are you betting against me? Seriously?”

He let out a grumble and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Well, it isn’t as though I’m paid much for being a fairy godmother assistant. And what’s the use of having insider information if you don’t put it to use?”

I pointed to his shirt. “You’re supposed to be rooting for me.”

“I am. I am. I’m betting on the lad is all.”

Clover unfolded the paper and took a pen from his pocket. “These are the things Miss I’m-too-busy-gabbing-with-friends-to-check-on-my-charge wants me to ask you: Did Donovan abscond with the goblet?”

“No,” I whispered.

Clover wrote something on the paper. “Did you hear the goblet’s answer to the queen?”

I looked upward, remembering. “It said, ‘You mistake in trying to find what comes forth from human minds. Listen to fair wisdom’s voice. Love’s not a feeling. It’s a choice.’”

Clover put his pen to the paper again. “. . . a load of gibberish about love . . .” He wrote for another moment. “Last question. Did Jason kiss you?”

“About Jason . . .” I straightened, suddenly hopeful. Clover might know how to break the curse. “Queen Orlaith caught him with the goblet, and she turned him into a frog. She said true love’s kiss would break the spell, but I kissed him twice, and he’s still a frog.”

Clover wrote on the paper again. “Yes, they kissed.”

“How do I de-frogify him?”

“I’ve no idea. Well, I’m done here. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

“Wait!” I leaned toward him, hand out, pleading. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

“Ah—I nearly forgot.” Clover made a check on the paper before folding it. “I believe in you, Sadie.” He tucked the paper into his pocket. “Me and thirty percent of the betting fairy population.” With that, the leprechaun vanished.

I lied back down on my pillow with a moan. Chrissy was right. Her assistant was completely worthless.

Chapter 24

I’m not sure how long I slept. Too soon, the door to our bedroom swung open and the guard announced, “His Royal Highness, the King!”

A moment later, the king and queen swept into the room. Even dressed in heavy brocades, the queen had a light, fluttering walk. She went to one bed and then another, pulling back blankets. “A new day is upon us,” she cooed. “Meet it with grace and fortitude, my daughters.”

The king strode down the room between our beds, carrying a walking stick that he rapped against the bed poles. “Up with you! Line up in your bedroom today. Let’s see what mischief you’ve been at!” I rolled over and groaned. Why were these people up at the crack of dawn? Really, what was so important that they had to do it at first light?

The king rapped his stick against my bed especially hard, and I pulled myself from my blankets, yawning. My sisters were already retrieving their slippers. They made a show of gasping as they turned their slippers over this way and that, as surprised as if the footwear had turned into cucumbers. I grabbed mine and stumbled to my place at the end of the row. Donovan had come in and stood near the door, stretching. Madam Saxton smoothed her hair, tucking stray pieces into her cap. Her eyes darted around the room, guiltily.

The king stopped in front of our line. It’s hard to pull off a stern and foreboding look when you’re wearing what essentially are poofy bloomers, but King Rothschild managed it. Even his wrinkles looked disapproving. “Hold forth your slippers for examination.”

The king, then the queen, walked down our line inspecting each pair.

“Worn, worn, worn, worn,” the king muttered unhappily. “Worn, worn, worn, worn.” His voice grew louder the farther he went. “Worn, worn, worn . . .” He stopped in front of me took my slippers from my hand and turned them over in his. “Only a trifle worn.” I hadn’t danced, and I’d come back early. My slippers were just a bit scuffed and dirty on the bottom.

The king eyed me warily. “Yesterday when your sisters’ slippers were worn, yours were damp and near destroyed. Today, your slippers once again differ from the others. Pray tell, how is this so?”

I shrugged and shook my head as though I had no words to describe this phenomenon.

The king’s eyes narrowed. “Were you with your sisters all night?”