Tonight Verte wore her finest black muumuu with a matching pointy, and slightly crinkled, hat. She was also decked out in magic, from her staff to a silver belt inset with a giant emerald, intricately carved into the shape of an eye. The belt has given me nightmares since I was five, when I finally got the courage to wink at it—and it winked back.
“I’ve been asked to inform you that the king and queen want to introduce you to a new prince. There, consider yourself informed.” Task finished, Verte shuffled away, grumbling in low tones. “One of the most powerful sorceresses in all of story, reduced to a secretary, of all bubbling…”
She thumped her emerald cane against the stones that paved the garden paths. The stones brightened and glittered, illuminating the way back to the ballroom.
Fairy fudge. I should’ve known that’s what all those messengers were about. I hurried to catch up with Verte. “So, who is it this time?”
“Who’s on what time?” Verte said absently, focusing on a slight rustle in the bushes.
I swear, I’ve known cats that had longer attention spans than Verte. “The prince. Who’s the royal reject they want me to meet now?”
“There.” Verte’s hand struck out between my legs and under the bush at a speed that shouldn’t be achievable by hunched old ladies. I squeaked in surprise as she drew back with a frog in hand. It uttered a pathetic and alarmed croak in protest. Verte studied the frog and then nodded in apparent satisfaction, turning her focus back to me.
“Is that the prince?” If so, he was on his own. There was no way in spell I was going to let my first kiss be with an honest-to-fairy-godmother slime ball.
Verte made a rude noise. “Don’t be addled. This is Rexi, the kitchen girl. She shorted me on my frog legs yesterday. Had to get ’em another way.” She shoved Rexi under her hat. “Your prince and one true love is inside.” She puckered her lips a bit and waggled her hairy caterpillarlike eyebrows.
I screwed up my face. “Mother of Grimm!”
It was an extremely un-princesslike curse, one that could have gotten me turned me into Rexi’s froggy friend for a week. I didn’t care; I had bigger fairies to fry. Up until now, I had been dragging my silver-and-ruby heels back toward the party, but this had to stop. I began a brisk and determined stomp down the cobbled walkway.
Behind me, Verte breathed heavily and clip-clopped at a frantic pace, trying to keep up. “Wait one newt’s tail, Dot. I’m not two hundred anymore.”
The childhood nickname gave me pause, just like it always did. But I stopped dead when a faraway look crossed her green face and the emerald eye turned cloudy. The air filled with the smell of overbaked bread, her signature magical scent—sure signs she was seeing something that no one else could. Which usually meant trouble.
“The pages are turning and there is more at stake than one girl’s happiness. You’ll have to make a choice and someone will lose. So for Grimm’s sake, use your head.” She gave a resigned huff and bonked my forehead with her staff.
I really hated when she did that, went all “fortune cookie” on me. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about.
Frustrated, I jammed my fists into my pockets in an attempt to calm myself. A sharp poke rewarded my efforts. The child’s gift, still inside my cardigan, apparently had jagged edges that cut my palm. Ruby-red drops of blood stood in stark contrast to the brilliant white of the star.
The wind picked up slightly and chills inched their way up my spine. Cue creepy feeling that I was being watched—and not just by the frog, who was giving me the evil eye from under Verte’s hat. I looked around, hoping to find the boogeyman that had caused my chills. Sure enough, staring at me through the ballroom window was quite possibly the most fearsome creature in all the realm—my mother. She shot me a look from atop her gold- and jewel-encrusted throne, which practically screamed that her patience was thinner than my father’s hair.
Leaving Verte behind, I wove my way through the party, which was well past its prime. I had a little trouble getting by Snow White’s little friends floundering around the punch bowl. One of them was trying to pry off Cindy’s glass slipper. I’m not sure if he wanted to play prince charming or try on the high heel himself.
Once I maneuvered past them, I walked up the plush red carpeting, and my queenly mother ushered away all the lingering servants with a wave of her royal hand.
Standing up straight, I squared my shoulders and put all those years of princess training to good use. I hoped. “Mother, Father, I must insist that you stop all of this prince nonsense,” I started. Clear, concise, and with authority. “After tonight, there’s no point in inviting any more of them to the palace.”
Before going on, I looked to my dad first to see how I was doing. If rubbing your temples with a grimace was a good thing, I was set. Mom’s expression was more difficult to decipher—part bemused, part shark.
She rose from her throne and stalked toward me. “I agree. In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about all afternoon.”
“Really?” I squeaked.