I couldn’t answer that question. I bit my lip and blinked innocently. “You’re angry because my slippers aren’t worn?” Questions weren’t lies. “I thought you didn’t want our slippers to be worn. Shouldn’t you be glad?”

The king gripped my slippers hard, waving them at me. “I thought nothing could bother me more than knowing my daughters are nightly up to some secret tomfoolery. But lo, I was mistaken. It irks me more to know that while your sisters are doing whatever it is they do, you’re up to mischief of your own.” He dropped my slippers on the floor and stalked over to Donovan.

“Well, Young Prince, what say ye? Do you know what my daughters did last night to wear . . .” He glanced back at me. “What most of my daughters did to wear out their slippers?”

Madam Saxton apparently wanted to be as far away from the king and the discussion of last night as she could be. She went to Rosamund’s dressing table and straightened it.

Donovan rubbed his chin, thinking. “Good King, I would not tell you my theory until I am sure it is the right one. I require one more night to solve the mystery.”

The king let out a grunt. “’Tis fortunate you require only one more night, as that is all you have. Tomorrow morning when I come, I shall bring the executioner with me.”

The queen strode over to Donovan, wearing her ever-present smile. “And I shall bring the priest, for I’m sure you’ll have the answer we seek.” She put her hand to her chest. “It will be so lovely to see our dear Sadie wed. We’ll be thrilled to have someone we can call a son at last.”

The king grunted again, obviously less thrilled than the queen.

Donovan put on one of his usual confident smiles. He looked particularly handsome like that, standing tall and straight, a secret humor in his eyes.

“I ask one more favor of you,” he said. “Do you have a library, a wizard—someone that knows how to break fairy curses?”

The queen’s hand flew to her throat in alarm. “Have our daughters fallen prey to a fairy’s wrath?”

“It’s a possibility,” Donovan said solemnly.

I held my breath, hoping the king and queen knew a way to help Jason.

The king walked down the row of princesses, still regarding us. “Other suitors have considered the possibility of a fairy curse. We’ve placed fairy wards in the room. Iron. Bread. T’was to no effect.”

Donovan gave a small agreeing bow. “That is why I need to study the matter further.”

Madam Saxton poured water from Rosamund’s pitcher into her basin, then moved to Beatrix’s table and did the same. Why hadn’t I considered the housekeeper might help us wash up in the morning? I should have hidden Jason somewhere else, somewhere safer. If the king didn’t finish grilling us soon, Madam Saxton would reach my pitcher and see a frog inside it. I went through the possible outcomes in my mind.

1)                                                                                                         Madam Saxton would see the frog and kill it. This would be bad.

2)                                                                                                        Madam Saxton would see the frog and question us as to why it was there. My sisters would leave the explanation up to me and my nose would end up growing a foot long. This would also be bad.

3)                                                                                                        Madam Saxton would see the frog and before she could kill him, Jason would plead for mercy or a perhaps a kiss. Again, bad.

I cleared my throat. “Madam Saxton, you don’t need to help us with our washing. We’re happy to do it ourselves.”

The king turned to me, disapproval weighing his brows downward. He’d been talking to Donovan about fairies, and I’d interrupted. “You speak out of turn in the presence of your father and king? That is twice the disrespect.”

Madam Saxton halted her motions, waiting to see if the king had directions regarding my request.

I fidgeted with the lace on my sleeve. “I meant no disrespect. I was only trying to be helpful.” Specifically, I was trying to help Jason. And myself. “Anyone who has kept watch in our room all night should be allowed to go and rest in her room.”

The queen nodded in agreement. “I’m sure Madam Saxton must be over-weary.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jason leap up and cling to the rim of my pitcher. He’d heard my remark about washing up and peeked over to see what was happening.

If the housekeeper or my parents looked in my table’s direction, they would see Jason. I sent him a psychic message to drop back down and hide.

Apparently Jason had no psychic abilities. Instead of returning to the pitcher, he jumped out altogether. He landed on the dressing table with a splatting sound.

The king turned back to Donovan to speak to him, but the housekeeper heard the noise. She gawked at the table and gasped. “Gracious! What is that doing in here?”

All heads turned to see what had startled her. The king’s head. The queen’s head.

“Heavens,” the queen said. “A huge toad.”

“Impossible,” the king declared, then he saw it too. It was hard not to see Jason. He leaped from the table onto the floor.

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?