My Unfair Godmother (19 page)

“Resplendent! Prodigious!” He knelt down in front of one and stroked it. “We shall name this one Theobald, and he shall sit at the foot of our bed.”

Haverton made note of it on a scroll he carried. “I’ll have the guards take it there at once, sire.” King John moved onto another spool, patting it lightly. “And this one we shall name Helewise because she is beauteous. Splendiferous.” I was pretty sure he was making up words now, but I nodded in case he was talking to me. Then I motioned to Haverton, pointing to my shackle in hopes he would come unlock it.

He ignored me and followed King John around the room, murmuring in agreement about each spool the king named. Poor Haverton. It must be hard to work for someone who was both crazy and dangerous.

“This one shall be called Engelbert,” King John proclaimed.

Engelbert? This was another reason not to marry King John. Our baby would end up with some hideous name, and other children would mock him behind his back.

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King John didn’t look at me as he strolled around the room. I wasn’t sure he even remembered I was there. I hoped I would escape his notice altogether, but when he reached the spool closest to me, he turned and asked, “What would you name this lustrous one?” I hesitated. I didn’t know many names from the Middle Ages. I tried to remember names I’d seen in movies from the time period.

“Robert,” I finally said.

“Robert?” King John asked disapprovingly.

“Or you could call him Bob for short. Bob the spool.” King John sniffed. “Nonsense. This beauty deserves a name as radiant as she is.”

Oh. It was a
she
. Well, that made naming her “Bob” awkward. Instead of trying to come up with a girl’s name, I said, “I think you are best suited to name the gold, Your Highness.” He sent me a cold look. Perhaps because I had referred to him as

“you” when he kept referring to himself in plural terms.

I tried to fix my sentence. “I mean, you
guys
, are best suited to name the gold …
you all
.”

His expression didn’t change.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, Your Highnesses.” His frown increased, so I added another “es” to my already long “Highnesses.” I sounded like a snake with a stutter.

“The girl understands nothing about gold,” he told me. At least he was
looking
at me, but since he was referring to me as “the girl,” maybe he was talking to Haverton. Or maybe he thought I couldn’t hear him. It was hard to tell with that whole insanity issue going on. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to answer.

King John pointed at the spool. “Her name is Alfreda and when we are married, the girl will leave the handling of the gold to us.” 171/356

I hesitated. “Um, do you mean when you and Alfreda are married?”

King John made clucking noises. “How ludicrous. Of course not.

We meant when you and we marry.”

“Oh.” Unfortunately,
that
part of the fairy tale was happening right on schedule.

He walked over to me, scattering the sand circle with the bottom of his robe. He didn’t even glance at it. Instead he gave me a tolerant smile. “We came to tell you the good news ourselves. If you learn to spin the straw into gold, we will marry you tomorrow morning. We know it is a rash decision, impetuous even, but what can we say? We are not ones to dally about when we’re in love.” He put his hand on his chest. “Romance makes us giddy.”

I leaned away from him. “But I already told you—a fairy changed the straw to gold. I can’t do it.”

He bent down, still smiling. “Yes, but when your fairy godfather comes tonight, you shall ask him to grant you the power to do it yourself. Then you shall spin an entire roomful.” King John straightened and took a couple of steps away from me, scattering more of the sand circle. “If you fail, tragically, we will turn you over to the executioner.” He tilted his head, considering. “Or if you fail
tragically,
we will turn you over to the executioner.” He bestowed another smile on me. “It’s where you put the emphasis in the sentence that makes the difference in what is tragic. Call us crazy, but we’ve always loved grammar.” Without waiting for my reaction, he turned to Haverton. “Take care of the girl. We’ve a busy day tomorrow. Either a wedding or an execution. Flexibility is our middle name.” He walked to the door, brushing up loose pieces of straw with his robes. “And Haverton, do go fetch her family so they can join her in either event.” He smiled at me one last time, then went out the door.

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• • •

As soon as I was alone, I called for Clover. He showed up at once, standing on the edge of the wash basin. His outfit was a brighter green than the last one he’d worn. He had on crisp new white stockings and sleek black polished boots. He stepped onto the table with a bounce in his step and surveyed the room.

“Morning, lass.” He held a tiny book with a spinning wheel on the cover. “I’ve got
The Change Enchantment.
Where’s me gold?”

“The spools are in the barn. You’ll have to zap a couple away.” He let out a disgruntled breath and slapped the book against his thigh. “I can’t do that. You have to give me the gold personally. Otherwise, I’m not making a bargain with
you
; I’m stealing from the king.

The UMA is picky about these sorts of details.” I inwardly groaned. King John wasn’t likely to let me near that gold again. “Can’t I just tell you it’s okay to take two?” Clover paced back and forth across the table, glowering at me from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “I already bought new clothes, and I had to grease a few hands to get
The Change Enchantment.
I told the blokes I’d be back with their money today. Why didn’t you summon me last night when the gold was done?”

“I fell asleep,” I said.

“Well, if you don’t want to marry King John, you’d best not fall asleep tonight. Otherwise you’ll wake up to the strains of minstrels playing the wedding march.” Clover tucked the book into his jacket with more force than was necessary. “A leprechaun can get in a right 173/356

lot of trouble for not paying his debts. What if the UMA takes away me magic? Then I’ll be no better than that ghoul of a fairy you’re dealing with now.” He looked upward, shaking his head. “Ah, it would just be me luck to end up emaciated in some children’s story, scaring tykes before bedtime.”

“I’ll make sure I don’t fall asleep tonight,” I said.

“Aye, that’s what Sleeping Beauty said before she nodded off.

Let’s hope you’re more reliable.”

And with that, he disappeared.

“Wait, come back!” I called. I wanted to ask him if he knew anything about my family. But even though I called several times, he didn’t return.

They’re okay,
I told myself, but if I had said the words out loud, my liar’s hat might have gone off. I wasn’t sure I believed it.

I slumped over to the window and watched the workers in the courtyard. I saw women drawing water from the well. Men bringing barrels into the castle. A maid hanging out long white tablecloths to dry. I wondered if these were preparations for the wedding feast tomorrow.

The wedding that I still couldn’t stop.

All that day, I watched the sun make a relentless path across the sky.

When it was dark, Haverton came, and another procession of guards led me to the barn. The wizard walked ahead of me, muttering and waving his wand as though directing an invisible orchestra. Hudson stood guard at the door. His gaze met mine briefly, and then I was ushered into the barn.

Mountains of straw awaited me. Great walls of it were stacked up to the ceiling. It looked like it might avalanche down and smother us. I regarded it warily, while Haverton chained me to the beam. He tucked 174/356

the key securely in his pocket, like he’d done last night, but the wizard didn’t draw another sand circle around me. He and Haverton had a heated conversation about this. Haverton was sure I would ask my fairy godmother for rescue, not gold, but the wizard insisted that the enchantment couldn’t be given to me if I were trapped in the circle away from the fairy.

“Besides,” the wizard said, flourishing his long sleeves at Haverton, “why would she ask for escape when she’ll be crowned queen in the morning?”

I could have answered that question. In fact, I could have written a five-paragraph essay on the subject that would have impressed my English teacher, but they didn’t ask my opinion.

In the end, Haverton relented. He muttered a few threats against my family should I escape, then placed a candle on the ground near the stool and left. The flame flickered apologetically, throwing out only a small circle of light.

I waited for Hudson. He had come inside the last two nights; surely he would come tonight. But the door remained closed. Perhaps King John had ordered so many men to guard the door that he couldn’t come in undetected.

I sat down on the ground and thought about my family to make myself cry so Rumpelstiltskin would appear. But the tears didn’t come.

I had worried so much about them during the day that my eyes felt numb to that pain. Mostly I was just stressed out about falling asleep before I could get gold for Clover.

While I’d been shut up in the castle, I’d tried to figure out what the moral of the
Rumpelstiltskin
story was. When I had heard the story as a little girl, I thought it was that you shouldn’t brag about things that weren’t true, like the fact that your daughter could spin straw into gold.

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That moral didn’t seem right, though. My father hadn’t been brag-ging about me. I doubted that was a vice he had a problem with. I had been taken prisoner to the castle because Haverton thought my father criticized the king.

Surely the moral of the story wasn’t Don’t criticize the king. King John deserved criticism, although I would wait until I was a safe distance away from him to give it.

Perhaps the moral of the story was something along the lines of

“If you’re innocent, then magical forces will help you. Go ahead and take magical help, even though some of that magical help might later want to eat your baby.”

Really, when you think about it,
Rumpelstiltskin
is a horrible story.

I heard a noise behind me and turned, expecting to see Hudson.

Instead, Chrissy sat perched on the straw, her hair falling around her shoulders in a river of glossy pink. She wore her tooth fairy uniform and was reading what looked to be a newspaper—except that instead of normal paper, it glowed like a computer screen and the headlines flashed and pulsed. She also had a sort of glow about her, like she carried her own personal sunset with her. A minty smell wafted over to me.

“Chrissy, you’re here.” Inside me, frustration crashed into relief like competing waves. Relief won out though, toppling and foaming over my other feelings. She had finally come. She could set things right now. I stood up. “Please, you’ve got to help me.”

“I am,” she said without taking her eyes from the paper. “At least for the duration of my break. Then it’s right back to the wonderful world of swiping teeth from children.” She flipped a page in the paper and let out a disgruntled sigh. “Honestly, this moonlighting gig is killing my social life. You’d think there would be more jobs for a fairy 176/356

with my talent, but apparently art doesn’t have to be inspired anymore. Now it’s all about the gritty reality of life. Like anyone wants to pay to see that.”

I tried to keep my voice calm. “My family is missing.” Her wings swept open, lazily fanning herself, and she flipped another page of her newspaper. “They’re fine. Your father packed up his camping gear and they’ve been running around the forest having a grand time.”

I imagined they weren’t actually having a grand time, but at least they were alive. My heart had been strung tight in my chest, and now it relaxed a little. “We need to talk about my wish, Chrissy. If you remember, I never wished to be chained up in the Middle Ages or forced into a marriage with a half-mad old man.”

“Look at this.” She rustled the paper, still staring only at it.

“Clover has put a rent-a-leprechaun ad in the classified section.” Reading out loud, she said, “Does your event need a little luck? Let an experienced leprechaun host your next wedding, bar mitzvah, or high school reunion. Please, no children’s birthday parties. Extra charge for events hosted on St. Patrick’s Day.” She shook her head. “He is so pathetic.”

“You made a mistake, and I—”

“Speaking of pathetic, what are your pathetic numbers these days?” Chrissy folded her paper. As soon as she did, it vanished from her hands.

“I don’t know.” I gritted my teeth. Frustration was back, and it was the winner now. “I left the pathetic-o-meter at home, and I haven’t been back since I was dragged out of there by armed guards threatening to kill either me or my father.”

“No problem.” Chrissy snapped her fingers, and the blue and yellow disk appeared in her hand. She stared at it. “Hmmm,” she said, 177/356

sounding like a doctor diagnosing a patient. “Your numbers have increased instead of decreasing. When were you yelling at inanimate objects?”

“Chrissy, I wished to be able to turn things into gold. Instead you sent me, my family, and a random guy who was on my street to the twelfth century.”

Her gaze shot over to mine. “A random boy got sent here too?” She frowned and let out an irritated huff. “Well, that won’t look good on my evaluation.”

I held out my shackled hand to her. “Just send us home. Put everything back the way it was before. That’s all I want now.” She stood up and brushed stray pieces of straw from her skirt. “I’ll send you home when your fairy tale is through. Until then, I’m duty-bound to fulfill your wish. You asked to have the power to change things into gold.”

“Right. That’s another problem with being in this fairy tale. The miller’s daughter never spun anything into gold. It was always Rumpelstiltskin who did it for her.” Chrissy flicked a piece of straw off her sleeve and it fell, fluttering onto the floor. “Nonsense. Rumpelstiltskin gives the miller’s daughter the enchantment on the third night. You didn’t think she would trade her baby for anything less, did you?” I felt a prickling sense of dread. That’s what King John had demanded—that I get the ability myself. But the original story wasn’t that way. “The fairy tale never said she could spin the straw into gold herself.”