When she turned back to me, a smile of triumph lit up her face. “No smell at all. Now, in you go while I round up some mice to turn into horses.” As I climbed into the carriage, she looked back at the inn distastefully. “At least I know I’ll have no trouble finding those.” Which is another thing about the Middle Ages: it had vermin galore. I probably didn’t need to know how many mice were in the place where I was eating and sleeping, but I couldn’t keep myself from looking.

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After she went inside, mice flew out of the kitchen door. At first one, then two more, five, then seven—I was going to have to look more carefully at the inn food before I ate it—and finally twelve in all. As they hit the ground they transformed into beautiful white mares.

Each shook its mane out, then trotted over to the carriage. Once near, the carriage put out tendrils that wound around the horses’ necks, turning into harnesses.

Last of all, Scuppers, the scruffy inn dog, ran out the door. Before he’d taken two steps he transformed into a coachman wearing fine clothes—but still with scruffy pale hair. He also had a wild-eyed expression, like he was still partially dog. He bent his face toward my window and panted at me before climbing up on the carriage to take the reins.

Okay, that worried me in a driver.

Chrissy appeared at my window, holding the wand and beaming happily. “Everything is perfect and Prince Edmond is waiting for you.” She let out a dreamy sigh.

“He is such a babe.”

“Are you sure you got the coachman right? He looks a little off.”

She glanced up at the carriage seat and her voice grew stern. “Come back here, Scuppers.” She snapped her fingers. “Right here. Now sit. That’s a good dog.” She turned back to me, her voice smooth and calm again.

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“He’ll be fine. Besides, the mice know the way to the castle. Trust me, if they serve food there, the mice can find it.” She stepped back and waved at me like I was on a homecoming float. “Have a good time! Fall in love!

And remember, at midnight you’ll be wearing nothing but a stained sheet and driving a turnip!” I waved back and called out to her, “Thank you!” Really, for once it had paid off to have a fairy godmother.

• • •

The trip to the castle went by quickly, which was good since I was racing the sun across the sky. Even though Scuppers didn’t do anything to actually drive the horses—every once in a while I caught sight of him leaning sideways over the driver’s box, like a dog hanging his head out a car window—the horses raced up the road that led to the castle. They didn’t seem to know how to do anything but gallop. Perhaps because mice scurry when they’re trying to go somewhere. The sunlight was already fading and I hoped they still had their micelike nocturnal vision.

I caught a glance of my reflection in the window and barely recognized myself. Glittering makeup outlined two large eyes. Perfectly pink lips opened in surprise, 341/431

and the tiara on my head sparkled among braids and curls.

I hadn’t realized I was wearing jewelry, but amethysts and diamonds clustered on both my ears and throat. I looked exactly like the princesses of every fairy tale I’d ever read.

I touched the amethysts at my throat gingerly, each smooth stone emphasizing the irony of my situation.

This is what I had wanted when I first wished to be Cinderella and now that I was actually getting it, I wanted nothing more than to go home with Tristan, Jane, and Hunter and live a normal life again.

The carriage hurried on. Finally, the castle came into view. The horses raced toward it without slowing even when we approached the drawbridge. I knocked on the carriage ceiling, hoping Scuppers could hear me. “Slow the horses!” I yelled.

He didn’t. Instead he hung his head over the side of the carriage, his eyes wide and his mouth still panting.

“The horses!” I yelled again. “Slow them down!” His face disappeared. The horses didn’t lessen their pace. From the window I could see that the peasants were having their own feast outside of the castle. A bonfire glowed in the yard while a hundred or so stood around it eating and drinking. Some danced while others sang and clapped out a tune.

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We drew too close to the crowd and several people had to dive out of the way to keep from being hit. While fleeing, one woman flung her drinking cup in the air and it splashed onto the window as I went by.

“Sorry!” I yelled, but she’d already passed from my sight and I wasn’t sure she’d heard me.

Moments later the carriage came to a lurching stop at the castle doors. A castle doorman opened the carriage and eyed me. Slowly, primly, he held out his arm to me.

“Madame.”

I took the doorman’s arm and stepped out of the carriage. “Sorry about the quick arrival. I’m in a hurry to find Sir Tristan. Do you know where he is?” The doorman gave me a curt nod. “You may inquire within as to the guests’ whereabouts.” He paused as he glanced at the driver’s box. “Is your driver all right? He’s acting rather addled.”

“Addled” was the word they used for crazy in the Middle Ages. I glanced up at Scuppers. He was biting his shoulder as though he had an itch and hadn’t thought to use his hands to scratch it.

“He’ll be fine.” As I turned and walked toward the castle, Scuppers jumped from the carriage, landing like he was in a game of leapfrog. He sprang up into standing position and took loping steps to follow after me.

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“Oh no you don’t,” I told him. “You’re not coming inside.”

He sniffed in the direction of the castle, licked his lips, and then whined.

“I don’t care what you smell, you’re not coming.” The last thing I needed was a man-dog tagging along after me.

Scuppers whined again and took two quick steps toward the castle as though trying to get around me. I took hold of him by the lapel. “Bad dog, Scuppers. Now go back and wait with the carriage.” He lowered his head and whimpered, but then scampered back to the carriage.

The doorman watched him go with a questioning expression.

“He’s not feeling quite himself tonight,” I said, and I walked the rest of the way to the castle.

A doorman let me in. Another servant pointed the way to the great room. He needn’t have bothered; the noise of the crowd and musicians led the way. I went and stood in the line to be introduced. It wasn’t until I was there that I realized who stood in front of me: my WSM

and two wicked stepsisters from the Cinderella fairy tale.

Chapter 23

I stood behind them, hardly breathing in hopes that if I was quiet they wouldn’t turn around and notice me. The fairy tale said Cinderella’s stepfamily didn’t recognize her, but things had never gone exactly like they had in the real fairy tales and perhaps this would be one of those differences. I’d never read a version of the story where Cinderella went and stood right by her family.

Hildegard grasped at her skirt and tapped one foot nervously. “No one will even look at us. Every noblewoman and princess within riding distance will be here.” WSM swatted Hildegard’s hands. “True, but so will every nobleman and prince. Perhaps there will be some left over for us.”

Matilda leaned toward her sister and snorted. “Perhaps Prince Hubert will take a liking to you.” Hildegard giggled but WSM sent her a cold-eyed stare that silenced her. “A prince is still a prince. I’d give either of your hands to him quickly enough.” Hildegard looked away from her mother and noticed me. Her gaze traveled over me and stopped on my face.

She stared at me for a moment and then turned back to her mother.