Donovan and I sprinted across the border. It felt like running into a shower of glitter. I waited for the lights to brighten, for Chrissy to take us away. She didn’t. We ran to her, and she did nothing except twirl her wand and eye Kailen—watch his black wings carrying him toward us.

“Let’s go,” I breathed out. I wanted to add, don’t you dare turn us over to him, but I was panting too hard to say it. So I stared at her with a correlated expression.

Chrissy didn’t even glance at me. Her wings slowed until it looked like she was lazily hanging in the air. “The girl is my charge. That gives me the right to help her.” Her smile was smug, almost flirty. “We can’t expect mortals to obey fairy law.”

Kailen landed on the ground, tucking his wings behind him. His eyes fixed on Chrissy. “I can expect you to obey it.”

“You can expect it,” she said, definitely flirting now, “but you’ll be disappointed.”

And with that, lights flared around us . . . lit fireworks, surrounding us in white flashes. A whoosh of air pulled me upward.

When the lights cleared, we stood in a hotel room—my old hotel room—the one where I’d first met Chrissy and Clover. My suitcase sat where I’d left it near the closet by the bathroom. Pieces of glitter from Chrissy’s first visit still lay on the floor. The only difference was that now Queen Orlaith’s goblet stood on the dresser next to the TV. It seemed out of place there, a gleaming fairy relic aside a cheap plastic remote.

Donovan blinked to adjust his eyes and looked around. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw we were in the right century.

Chrissy opened a gauzy purse that appeared on the end of her wrist and slid her wand inside. “That will teach Kailen to ask for my number and then forget about me.” She snapped the purse shut in satisfaction. “I bet he remembers me for a long time now.”

Donovan put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. “Could you have cut that escape any closer? We were running for our lives, and you stopped for witty banter with the enemy?”

Chrissy glided over to me, still glowing with triumph. “Here’s a pearl of wisdom from your fairy godmother: Never waste the chance for a dramatic exit, especially if a hot guy is involved.”

I was too overjoyed to be mad at the way Chrissy dragged out our departure. I threw my arms around her in a hug, which is sort of hard to do when the person you’re hugging has huge wings. “Thanks for returning for me.”

Chrissy patted my back reassuringly. “That’s what fairy godmothers are for: helping you and dispensing pearls of wisdom about hot guys.”

Donovan sliced Chrissy a glare, his hands still on his hips. “She came back because I paid her.”

“What?” I pulled away from Chrissy and turned to Donovan. The last time he made a deal with a fairy, it involved stealing a powerful goblet from an enemy queen. “What did you pay her?” My gaze returned to Chrissy’s, already pleading, already dreading.

Chrissy folded her arms. “Don’t look at me like that. He cashed in a wish, and I gave it to him.”

“He cashed in . . . what?”

Donovan reached into his pocket and pulled out three sticks he’d cut from the queen’s trees. One silver, one gold, and one missing the diamond that had been there.

He held up the diamond branch. “The wish fruit ripened just as we left. That meant I had a magic wish. I wished you would come back home.”

Chrissy smiled benevolently. “Some fairy godmothers wouldn’t have had the courage to grant that wish. Fortunately, your fairy godmother is exceptional. And if the UMA contacts you with a customer satisfaction survey, please remember to use that wording. Exceptional.”

I’d forgotten Donovan had a branch with unripe fruit, and now I laughed at the way it worked out. My sacrifice sending Donovan home had ripened the fruit, giving us the extra magical wish we needed. And the sweetest part was he’d used the wish to save me. “Exceptional,” I repeated.

Chrissy walked to the dresser, an extra bounce in her step. “Well, that’s another project successfully completed. Clover wasn’t able to sabotage my attempts, no one died, and I retrieved a powerful relic.”

She picked up the goblet from the dresser and surveyed it with approval. “Let the Fairy Godmother University acceptance committee say I don’t deserve to be admitted now.”

She held up the goblet, making a toast. “This should put my job as an insomnia fairy to rest. Pun so intended.”

I didn’t point out that Donovan and I had played a large part of retrieving the goblet. “Is Jason back to his regular life?”

Chrissy fingered the goblet, still admiring it. “I left him at his dressing room at the America’s Top Talent arena, surrounded by gift baskets.”

Good. His natural habitat.

I looked around again, noting the hotel room’s unchanged state. “How long have we been gone?”

Chrissy checked her watch and scowled. “Beetle dung. It’s been half an hour. I thought for sure I’d gotten the stopping time thing right this go ‘round.” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh well, I’m still exceptional.”

Half an hour. Not long at all. My mother was probably still at the store. No one was panicked or worried sick about my disappearance. I wouldn’t have to come up with some convoluted explanation no one would believe anyway.

“About Jason,” I said, drawing Chrissy’s attention back to me, “is he still in love with me?”

“Yes, but he’ll get over you quickly. Jason never stays in love with the same girl for long.” As though anticipating a protest, she added, “You never specified a time length.”

And I was glad now I hadn’t. “That’s fine. I don’t want him to be unhappy.”

Donovan grunted in a way that made it clear he was less concerned with Jason’s happiness.

“What about the princesses?” I asked. “Will they be okay?”

Chrissy gestured toward the bed, and for the first time I noticed a picture book lying there. “See for yourself.”

I glanced at the cover. The Twelve Dancing Princesses. The illustration showed dancing couples swirling through the fairy pavilion—my sisters. I picked up the book and flipped it open. An illustration showed a man coming to the castle in soldier’s clothing. Not Donovan. Prince Geoffrey. I smiled and turned pages, watching my sisters and me getting ready for bed, stepping down the stairs, waltzing. The prince I danced with didn’t look like Jason. He looked like Donovan.

I flipped to the ending and saw my sisters waltzing with their princes again—this time at the castle ballroom in wedding attire. The king and queen overlooked the celebration, the queen with a pleased expression, the king—well, in the time I’d known him he’d never looked happy, but he at least looked satisfied. It did have a happy ending.

I turned back to the picture of Donovan and me dancing and held up the book so he could see it.

He took a step closer to examine the picture. “That’s not how it happened.”

“I know,” Chrissy said without glancing at the book. “Sometimes you have to improve the story. How would it look if the youngest princess ditched her prince and ran off with a thief? You don’t want to be responsible for traumatizing children, do you?”

I took Donovan’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Actually, I like that ending.”

He pulled me into a hug. Saying goodbye was going to be hard. Phone calls would be a poor substitute for seeing each other.

After a moment, I pulled away from him and turned to Chrissy. “When are you taking Donovan home?”

She stopped examining the goblet and gave me a disbelieving look. “Take him home? I already did that once. Then he wished to get you and bring you here.” She made a sweeping motion that took in the room. “Voilà. We’re here. My job is done. And remember, I did it exceptionally.”

“Donovan lives in Ohio,” I protested. “We’re in St. Louis.”