Fairy Godmothers, Inc

FOUR



A Few Extra Flourishes


Surprisingly, Jon felt less like an idiot trying not to be killed by the dog than he had walking away from Kate.

He’d once spent three days talking to a diplomat who hated him on general philosophical principles, and eventually Jon managed to earn both the other man’s grudging respect and several acres of highly lucrative magical beanstalks. Persistence, not to mention selective deafness, was the key to any good negotiation.

Fueled by the fires of determination, Jon had turned around and headed straight back to 1612. If the route Kate used to get in wasn’t obvious, he could hopefully catch the glow from the nearest window and knock. If he looked needy enough, she’d have to let him in.

Then, the townhouse’s resident attack dog and his pearly white teeth of death made an appearance, abruptly altering Jon’s future plans to include a relatively safe perch at the top of a nearby wall. Rabid barking was not a confidence builder, and he had a sudden vision of being discovered by the neighbors the next morning and having to explain things to the constables. After which, of course, he’d still have to sneak back into the palace.

He heard Kate call his name, and a few moments later she saved him with some truly awful classical music that somehow caused the dog to fall asleep. Not a dignified way to get out of the situation, no, but at least Kate wasn’t looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“You’re the only person I’m ever going to admit this to, but I’m suddenly more appreciative of that stupid entrance package,” Kate said as she helped him through the window, traces of worry still in her voice. “Rellie told me the dog was lulled to sleep by terrible music, so all I had to do was turn it back on.”

“She didn’t even light her skirt on fire this time,” the blond girl—Rellie, Jon guessed—added helpfully.

“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” Kate said, eyes still on Jon. Even after he was safely standing, her hand lingered a moment before letting go of his arm, a small gesture that did embarrassingly useful things for his confidence. “Are you all right?”

Jon smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, even as a little glow of pleasure flared to life in his chest. “I’m fine.” He held his arms out for her inspection, amused when she actually gave him a quick once-over. “No blood was drawn.”

The blond girl who’d been a spectator all this while eyed him critically. “You really don’t look much like a Fairy Godmother, not even as an assistant.” She pointed at Kate as a convenient example. “They’re all supposed to have wings, for one thing.”

Kate winced. “He . . .” The sentence died when she failed to find a believable excuse. Jon, however, lied on command on an almost daily basis, and since this had technically been his idea to begin with, he stepped forward into the breach.

“You’re right—I don’t have any wings.” Rule one in trying to lie your way out of a confrontation: The first thing to do is agree with the other person; not only was it an excellent delay tactic, it usually had the added bonus of seriously confusing them.

Her brow furrowed. “Well . . .”

“Unfortunately for me, only A-level Fairy Godmothers are issued that particular set of equipment.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, gratified when he saw the corner of Kate’s mouth quirk up. “Personally, I think I’m somewhere in the Qs at the moment.”

The girl, presumably Kate’s client, didn’t look convinced. Jon could practically hear Lawton laughing at him all the way from the palace. “Then why aren’t you dressed like her?” the girl asked. “She’s all sparkly and looks like you guys are supposed to in the stories, except for the whole no gray hair or wrinkles thing. You, though . . .” She waved a dismissive hand at Jon’s far less glittery outfit. “You need lots of help.”

Encouraged by the amusement in Kate’s eyes, he widened his own. “You really think I’d look good in a dress? I keep trying to talk them into letting me have a blue one to match Kate’s.”

The girl paused a moment, as if seriously considering it, then wrinkled her nose at whatever mental picture she’d conjured. “Okay, you have a point. Since it looks like you probably aren’t sure what’s going on yet, I’m Cinderella, but you can call me Rellie. You guys are gonna give me a dress and prince and stuff, which is supposed to be my heart’s desire, but isn’t really.” She smiled. “But that’s okay. Your boss said it could be pink.”

Jon raised an eyebrow at Kate, who just shook her head. “Remember what you said about interesting stories?” she reminded him. Then, fixing a cheerful expression on her face, she focused her attention back on Rellie. “So let’s get started, shall we? What do you want to do first?”

Rellie furrowed her brow, giving the matter some serious thought. “Wait—don’t you have to do the dress first? I mean, it’s not like you can start the ball now or drag the prince guy over here.”

“True.” Kate sighed, her long, graceful fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It hit Jon that as an unanticipated side benefit of this, he was going to be able to see Kate in action.

“Remember, though,” Kate said. “I said I needed some base clothing to start out from. Not that it has any effect on the final product, but after a couple of lawsuits based on loss of rags, you have to pay attention to this sort of thing.”

“Oh, what I’m wearing will be fine.” Rellie looked down at her ragged nightgown, petting one of the bows like it was a small kitten. “Maybe some of the bows will even stay . . .”

“I’ll do my best.” A brief, almost affectionate smile appeared on Kate’s face before her expression slid back into what he suspected was “professional” mode. “Now, let’s see what accessory options you have to choose from for your dress.” Kate pulled out the folder and started to open it before Jon plucked it out of her hand with a grin.

“Assistant, remember?” He opened the folder and scanned down the brief notes on the case, flipping through the mostly blank pages on the off chance he had missed something. When he got to the page that listed who Rellie was going to be matched up with, he went perfectly still to mask his sudden kick of panic. “She’s going to end up with . . .” He looked up just in time to see Kate making shushing motions with her hands, and immediately cut off the thought. Apparently, they hadn’t gotten around to discussing that part yet.

Rellie’s interest was momentarily piqued. “Does it say anything about the other stuff I’m going to get? Like furry pink boots?”

“I haven’t gotten that far.” He returned his attention to the file, making himself relax. There were far worse options out there for a future sister-in-law—if anything, she was getting the worst of the deal—and the files clearly weren’t going to give him away. The paperwork didn’t even mention Rupert had a brother, let alone his name.

He could definitely work with this. Braced with the reminders, he refocused on the facts in front of him. Behind the specific information on the current client was an entire set of printouts, complete with tabs that appeared to be some sort of company manual. He flipped through the different sections—social introduction, shoes (that was a big one), dress—before scanning the list of options. “Let’s see—‘The client may determine color, sleeve shape, material, and assorted decorations, so long as it meets appropriate standards to sufficiently dazzle the highest of royalty.’”

Rellie looked at Kate. “Do Fairy Godmothers ever use words that make sense? What does any of that even mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Jon cut in, remembering what his mother put the kingdom’s dressmakers through on a regular basis. “All being of high rank means you can wear absolutely anything you want, and most of the time you’d want to wear the most insane thing you can get a hold of. Last season it was serving spoons . . .”

His voice trailed off as he realized that both Kate and Rellie were staring at him. Kate, he noticed, seemed to be fighting off a smile. “Never mind.” Jon cleared his throat awkwardly. “Leftover work-related trauma. Nothing to worry about.”

Kate didn’t say anything, but the smile won out for a moment before she turned back to Rellie. “So, let’s get back to the dress, shall we? I’m guessing you’re going to want it to be pink, but what about the sleeves? Something with ruffles, maybe?”

Rellie thought for a moment. “Can they be long and billowy, like birds’ wings?”

Kate’s brow lowered a moment as she thought. “Since customer complaints got rid of the feather option last year I’m not sure how wing-like they’ll really be, but I’ll see what I can do.” Straightening her shoulders, Kate muttered something under her breath as she stepped back and waved her wand in a precise set of swirling motions. A cloud of fairy dust and a few sneezes later, Rellie was decked out in a silky pink ball gown with a huge, full skirt, long gauzy bell sleeves, and a wide edge of lace at all convenient edges (pink, naturally).

Jon vowed never to mention this particular talent of Kate’s to his mother.

Rellie looked down, carefully examining every inch of gauze and lace, then gave a tragic little sigh. “Well, that’s a nice start, but . . .” Her voice trailed off hopefully.

“Bunnies. Yes, I know.” Covering her eyes with one hand, Kate used a different flourish to change the whole ensemble into pink fur. After a moment, she risked a peek between her fingers. “Somehow, it’s even worse than I thought it would be,” she muttered, low enough for only Jon to hear.

She was right—bows were not supposed to be furry. Still . . . “Not that I don’t agree with you completely, but I feel obligated to mention that Rupert might actually like it. He has a thing for hunt—” He noticed Rellie was suddenly close enough that she could hear what they were saying, and Jon’s gaze met hers with the brightest and most cheerful expression he could manage. “Bunnies. He has a thing for bunnies.”

Rellie eyed him with suspicion, then shrugged and made a few twitchy tugs at her collar. “The neck itches.” She made a face, and then that dreamy look came back into her eyes again. “Are you sure I can’t have feathers?”

Kate shook her head in what Jon suspected was mock solemnity. “Even if I could talk them into bringing the feather option back, I’m afraid it itches even worse than rabbit fur.”

The girl looked doubtfully at her, before sliding her attention back over to Jon. “Really?”

“Oh, definitely. Sometimes there’s even a rash.” Grateful, Kate flashed him another one of those “us against the world” looks. Jon grinned at her, finding himself rather enamored of the idea that, for once, there was someone else on his side.

Rellie looked back and forth between them, then sighed dramatically. “Oh, all right. No sense in asking for trouble like that. Would really, really sparkly be any easier? Like a whole bunch of stars all mushed together?”

Kate gave the wand another flourish.

“No, more than that.” Rellie held the skirt out to get a better look at it. “Lots more.”

Kate turned to look at Jon. “Cover your eyes.” When he raised a disbelieving eyebrow, she narrowed her eyes and pointed her wand at him. “I am not going to be responsible for making you go blind. Seriously, cover your eyes.”

Jon obligingly covered his eyes, leaving just enough room to watch Kate do another flourish.

Rellie made a disappointed noise. “I said lots more.”

Another flourish.

“I don’t really think you’re taking me seriously.”

Kate glared, then did two quick flourishes in a row.

“Ahhh! I can’t see! The glare’s blinding me!”

“Exactly.” Kate paused, and Jon risked peeking again in time to see about half of the sparkles vanishing from the dress. As Rellie blinked the dancing white spots out of her eyes, Kate folded her arms across her chest. “I’d say this would be a good time for you to stop having so much input, Rellie.”

“No, no, wait! I can do this, really.” She rubbed her porcelain white chin. “It’s just so hard. I mean, there’s so many choices, and it’s not like I’ve ever had to think about this sort of thing before . . .” Suddenly, Jon heard the sound of a door opening and shutting at the front of the house, followed by muffled arguing. Hearing it, Rellie’s expression cleared. “I know, I’ll go ask my stepmother! She spends so much time telling me all about this sort of thing, she must know everything about it. It’ll be perfect!”

“Stepmother?” Jon’s eyes widened at the possible implications. “As in ‘obligatory wicked stepmother,’ whose entire purpose in life is to spread discomfort and misery wherever she goes?”

“Pretty much.” Kate looked even more alarmed than Jon felt. Of course, she was the one who knew exactly how bad these things could get. “Listen, Rellie,” she started, already heading toward the girl. “I don’t think this is such a good idea . . .”

Rellie, however, was already bouncing out the door. “Don’t worry,” she smiled, disappearing past the rag curtain before they could even blink. “I’ll be right back.” Kate and Jon looked at each other, then chased after her.

“So, this is the girl that’s going to marry Prince Rupert?”

“Yeah.” Kate looked back at him. “Have I scared you yet?”

Jon sighed. “Only because they’re perfect for each other.”


Thankfully, they caught up with her before she made it even halfway to the room where the voices were coming from. Together they yanked her flat against an appropriately shadowed wall, and Kate covered Rellie’s mouth with her hand as an extra precaution. Then, slowly, they started the long, careful process of edging back toward the kitchen without being discovered.

That is, until one of the voices became loud enough to make out individual words. Jon found himself freezing in place when the name “Prince Charming” floated across his ear.

“We didn’t even get to see him, Mother!” The voice was whiny, almost sharp—the sound of someone who still thought she was six years old, despite the addition of breasts and several feet in height. “We didn’t get to see anybody who was worth anything at that stupid ball!” The volume and shrillness seemed to increase with every word. “And do you know why? Because we were too busy getting chased off by the palace guards!”

The sound of a slap made Rellie’s eyes widen, and Jon added his hand to Kate’s to further silence any potential commentary. Inwardly, though, he groaned in frustration.

He remembered these three.

“You will never speak to me that way.” Even furious as it was, this second voice was everything a person expected out of a wicked stepmother—low, cultured, and almost offhandedly snide. Jon imagined she spent quite a bit of time practicing. “And it certainly isn’t my choice that we never make it into a ball. If I had clever, attractive daughters instead of you useless lumps, the guards wouldn’t be a problem.”

“You always say that, but I didn’t see you do any better with the guards.” The third voice grated like a knife across exposed nerve endings, the only one of the three he’d never thrown out in person. Luckily, though, they persisted in thinking of him as some sort of captain of the guard. “In fact, it looked as though you nauseated one of them.”

Jon winced in sympathy for the guard as he heard Kate smother a snicker.

There was another slap, but the other sister—Lucinda, he recalled—was right there to pick up the refrain. “You said Cinderella was going to take care of this! Having a poor, tragic stepsister we abuse was supposed to get us invited to things!”

The second sister gave a nasty chuckle. “What she didn’t mention is the stepmother of that poor, tragic girl usually ends up being forced to dance to death in red-hot iron shoes . . .”

There were two more slaps, both at once, then another set of two that seemed to come from the opposite direction. At that point, the slapping noises became so frequent that Jon lost count, and with a look at Kate they began the long process back to the kitchen.

Once they’d made it back to the relative safety of Rellie’s corner, Kate practically sagged in relief. Rellie sat back down on the bed, eyes still wide enough that there could be a real risk they’d be permanently stuck that way.

Jon ran a tired hand through his hair. “I know they’re technically going to end up being in-laws, but would you mind if Rupert permanently bans those three from the palace? We tend to torture people with canapés instead of anything fatal, but there’s no need to make the royal family suffer.”

Kate straightened, smoothing a hand over her hair as she pulled herself together. “I usually suggest it—it never works to reform them, no matter how often the client insists on trying.” She glanced over at Rellie, then leaned in closer to Jon and lowered her voice again. “What’s Rupert like, by the way? I know he’s a rake, which I’m pretty sure Rellie won’t even notice if he buys her some pets, but if he’s not at least nicer than her stepfamily then I’m going to have to come up with something.”

“He’s fairly nice even when compared to normal people,” Jon assured her. “He’s not exactly the sharpest sword in the armory, but he’ll buy her an entire zoo just for being less trouble than his mother is.”

Any further observation was cut off when Rellie blinked and shook her head before focusing back on Kate. “This is really interesting and all, but can we get back to my dress? If I can’t ask Maleeva, I’m going to have to keep trying and trying things until I find out what I like . . .”

“No.” Kate said firmly, then shot a worried glance in the stepfamily’s direction. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she held a warning finger up in Rellie’s direction. “The one you have right now is just fine.”

At Rellie’s pout, Kate sighed. “Okay, fine. You can give me some suggestions. But Jon has actually spent time in the palace—he goes first.” She turned toward him. “Anything else you think Prince Rupert might be looking for in a woman?”

Now it was Jon’s turn to sigh. “Cleavage.”

Kate chuckled. “At least you’re honest.” Turning to Rellie, she said, “Okay, your turn. Any changes you want made that won’t injure the people around you?”

Rellie twirled a lock of golden hair, thinking a moment. “These sleeves are too floppy. Can you make them shorter and poufier? And add some more sparkles.” Her eyes widened as she remembered. “But only a little bit more. Not like the later stuff.”

“And whose idea was the ‘later stuff?’” Kate muttered. Still, the wand came up and around in a different pattern, the magic dust came out again, and when it was gone Rellie’s dress was only little more sparkly than it had previously been. The girl jumped up and down and clapped her hands. Kate nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect. Now we just have to get you to that ball, nudge that Prince in your direction, and all of us can get a decent night’s sleep.”

A clock chimed in the distance, enough to trigger an unfortunately relevant memory in Jon’s brain. Briefly, he considered trying to take care of the problem without warning her about it, but one lie of omission was more than enough for a potential relationship to deal with. “You’ll never know how much I hate to say this, but there might be more to it than that.”

Both women’s heads whipped around to look at him, and he could already see the dread settling in Kate’s face. Sharing some of the same feeling, Jon took a deep breath and continued, “This morning starts the beginning of fancy banquet season at the palace. There’s not another fancy dress ball scheduled for at least the next three months. Were you planning on having to wait that long?”