Charlotte Evermore lay face down on the white linen sheets of her bed, motionless amidst a sea of darkness. She did not want to be lying in bed, but she had no choice; the gears in her chest forbade her from moving.

“My pretty little doll,” said a sinister voice from fat, greasy lips, trying to feign sweetness from the darkness, “You know what time it is.”

She wished it were any other time of the day, but it was no use; she could not move, she could not refuse. She felt the fat fingers start to undo the laces on her dress.

Charlotte Evermore jolted awake with a scream, her gears racing, her breathing heavy. At once, her hands flew to her breasts. “It was just a dream, it was just a dream,” she whispered to herself in terrified tones, “Aedan is still dead, you are not still stuck in the golden palace. The rocking of the train simply lulled you to sleep.”

The door to her compartment flew open, revealing a smartly dressed conductor who was just as breathless as she was. “What aileth you, my lady?” he said, obviously concerned, “I came with all haste when I heard your cry.”

“There is nothing wrong, sir,” said Charlotte, “it was merely a bad dream.” If Charlotte’s cheeks were not permanently tinted pink, her porcelain white skin would be betraying her embarrassment. Seeing nothing amiss, the conductor turned to leave. “Wait one moment, sir,” she said, “how much longer until we reach Sliberberg?”

“Some five and forty minutes yet, my lady,” said the conductor as he stepped beyond the little room and closed the door.

Charlotte settled back into the plush chair that she had fallen asleep in. 45 minutes to SLiberberg, 45 minutes to her stop. What to do with 45 minutes? She thought to herself. She could watch the countryside go by with the reflection of her pretty new face and curls of gold hair to keep her company, but the landscape outside was not that interesting; nothing she had not seen in her old life in Britain or in the Royaume des Rêves.

Then she remembered the large sheaf of letters that the Fairy Godmother had given to her before boarding the train. Rummaging in her suitcase, she produced a large leather folder stuffed with envelopes and a small letter opener. She sliced the seal off the top one and began reading its contents.

She had been receiving letters from home ever since she made the wish, a wish that inadvertently cast the clockfolk rudderless and naked into an uncharted sea of self-determination. It was natural that they would look to their queen for guidance, and with her far away in Slanach being taught the ways of queenship, letters were their only option.

The letters had painted a city in transition. The earliest ones expressed open panic about new sensations, food shortages, sudden nudeness and a complete loss of what to do. These were soon followed by tales of a great reshuffling of Mainspring society as the clockfolk tore down their city, rapidly redefined their relationships with one another, and apparently conceived a new generation of clockfolk. The letters in her sheaf presented a city reaching a sort of equilibrium, reconstruction was underway, the first harvest of wheat was coming in, and society had settled into a new normal.

Then she came to a letter bearing Ben’s seal, and her gears started to race. She eagerly cut it open and scanned the contents, her gears starting to race. It was a poor attempt at an official report from the Prime Minister to his Queen. It began professionally enough, wandered into complaints about his new position, and finally collapsed into a ham-fisted love letter, begging her to come home—or to assign someone else to his post so he could follow her.

Her cheeks grew warm, and she pressed the letter flat against her chest. She had been receiving many letters like this lately, from every man of the gentry left unpaired in the mad social reshuffling after the wish; men who suddenly believed themselves of a suitable age and station to court a young queen. Only Lord Wood made her react like this. Her former bodyguard was once a stoic and taciturn man, never by choice, but still, he had been her rock during her imprisonment in the golden palace. So it took her by surprise when he confessed his love to her in the twinkling lights of the Fairy Godmother’s ballroom. Ever since, whenever she thought of him—or of his awkward, earnest attempts at courting—the gears in her chest spun a little faster, her breathing quickened, and warmth crept into her cheeks. The Fairy Godmother had smiled knowingly and declared that she was in love.

She had sent him back to Mainspring to be the new head of government. He was the only man she trusted to govern the city in her absence, the only one capable of steadying it. It was definitely not a way to teach her prospective beau how to be a prince consort, she told herself for the hundredth time.

She missed him dearly, though, and wished that he were here beside her.

There were a few more letters in the pile, mostly even worse attempts at courting her from her many suitors. When she got to the last letter, she froze. It was in one of the  Fairy Godmother’s personalized envelopes; it bore her seal; it smelled vaguely of the sweet perfume she wore. Her gears wereracing for a different reason as she tore open the envelope. She scanned the contents: it was addressed to “My Buttercup,” and it contained words like “darling,” my doll,” and “beloved.” It was signed by “Your dearest Mummy.”

Charlotte clenched her chest as she hyperventilated. Only the Fairy Godmother could have sent it. The handwriting was hers. The tone was hers. The pet name—Buttercup—was one she had used for her and no one else. All the bad memories from the past month came back. The hair brushings the fairy godmother gave her while she sat on her lap. The regal yet slightly childish outfits. Being forced to play childish games with the Fairy Godmother when one of her younger godchildren arrived. How her adoptive daughters treated her like a dolly. The slow transformation of one beloved mentor into something far worse than Aedan ever was, a surrogate mother she never wanted who expected her to obedient little doll for her.

When she had told The Fairy Godmother that she was going to head north to New Mountainheart and study magic at The Coláiste Draoidheil, her one-time patron was visibly upset that she left and spent a few days pouting like a little girl. However, the Fairy Godmother did not stop her. That morning, she did her hair one last time, dressed her in a brand-new white dress with embroidered buttercups along the hem, and lavished her with a few going-away presents. She gave her a huge purse filled with more New Mountainheartain Marks than she could use, a pair of suitcases, and a traveling trunk filled with outfits in the styles that Charlotte had come to dread wearing, a mirror of communion, and a promise that her favorite godaughter, Queen Aoibheann Von Mountainheart, would serve as her host and friend. She had even seen her off to the station and, with tears in her eyes, hugged her and said, “I really wish you did not have to go, my darling little buttercup, you will always be welcomed at Le Château Des Rêves.”The letter had reiterated the same sentiment, but in many more words, words that made it clear the Fairy Godmother’s perceived relation with her, words that she had come to dread.

Charlotte crumpled up the letter and put it back in the suitcase. She felt uneasy, but the sight of the rainbow-colored dancing foliage outside tempered that unease. They were finally in the valley of New Mountainheart. Ever since she had arrived in this world in 1865, she had heard stories about the legendary kingdom in the fairy forest, its breathtaking capital of Sliberberg, the half-fey kingdom, and its handsome, young, and lonely ruler, Fredrick von Mountainheart, the Eternal Prince. Moreover, she was excited to start her studies at the Coláiste Draoidheil and finally learn magic.

However, the memory of the Fairy Godmother’s daughters was still fresh in her mind. She dreaded discovering what her favorite goddaughter was like. Aoibheann’s portrait was all over Le Château Des Rêves; she looked like the very model from which the godmother’s daughters were cast, a beautiful young sidhe, pretty in a pink fairy-tale princess dress, her brown hair in a Dutch braid topped with a tiara. Her expression in those portraits was sweet and playful enough, but Charlotte had learned that looks were deceiving, and she was subconsciously bracing herself for the worst.

Outside, there was a slight, barely perceptible change in the forest as the train climbed a gentle incline for a minute or two before it settled just above the treeline. That’s when she saw it and gasped—Sliberberg in all its glory.

The train was steaming along an elevated railway at canopy level,  gradually slowing to a crawl. Out her window, she saw the rainbow leaves of the canopy interspersed with buildings that seemed to be built, in part or in whole, from the trees themselves, climbing up a big hill. She craned her neck to the north, but she could not see the mountain known as the Sliberberg. Then the train rumbled over a massive bridge, and she saw it, the city within the rainbow forest stacked high against the mountain looming over her train.

“Sliberberg! Capital of New Mountainheart,” shouted the conductor.

Charlotte collected the few possessions she had within her compartment and tucked them about her person and her suitcases. The train came to a halt, and she, bags in hand, joined the other passengers making their way through the first-class carriage to the doors. It was such a strange crowd, filled with people of species she had never seen before, speaking languages she could not understand, in silks and satins; surely they would not notice a young lady with porcelain skin and holding her breath.

When she stepped onto the platform, she let out a disappointed exhale. The station was a familiar-looking, hulking brick building with a glass-roofed platform hall. How disappointing, she thought as she proceeded down the length of the train towards the baggage car.

In truth, she never traveled much when she was back on earth, and when she did, she was always escorted by her mother and father. She had no idea how the whole train-travel thing was supposed to work, or how she was supposed to be reunited with her trunk.

So she trudged to the start of the train and grabbed the first man she could find with a red cap. She put on her best important voice and said, “Sir, I demand to know how one retrieves one’s luggage from the baggage car.”

“Why thou speakest unto me, madame?” asked the squirrel-faced, fur-covered porter in a heavy accent. Charlotte thought the accent sounded like that of one of her dad’s German business partners. “Thou collecth at the baggage deske in yonder halle.”

Satisfied and a little embarrassed by her own ignorance, she started to trudge away when she heard a sweet voice heaping praise in the same strange-sounding English the porter spoke, from ever so slightly further up the platform. It was the sort of stuff a mother might say to a young daughter. Curious, she decided to investigate.

There she found a site that made her nearly jump out of her skin: the locomotive pulling her train was alive and shaped like a dragon. She was lavishing motherly love on another small dragon-bodied locomotive with a cheurbic face at the fore of her own short train. She watched them transfixed for a few minutes as the mother asked if the little one, who was named Belfast, was being a good girl for her handlers and a dozen other things.

Seeing this display of love made Charlotte’s gears skip a beat. She wanted what Belfast had in abundance—love that was unconditional, unpossessive, and gentle.

She watched them until, apparently, it was time for the mother to go. It was a heartbreaking scene seeing little Belfast sniffling about her mama leaving so soon, but there was nothing to be done. Charlotte nearly teared up as mother and daughter parted. She watched as the mother and her train sped into the distance, until they were gone, then returned to her search for the rest of her luggage; the pang in her chest and desire would follow her.

About 15 minutes later, she dragged her heavy pile of luggage out the street side door. Her cheeks were warm after making an absolute fool of herself trying to find the baggage desk and explaining what she wanted to this malicious little goblin manning the desk. She was huffing from having to drag her trunk and suitcases across the entire station hall. But it was worth it when she finally turned around and saw the street for the first time.

She gaped in awe as she stepped from the gloom of the station building into the twilight under a forest canopy stained in every color of the rainbow. From every ease and arbor, soft yellow lanterns glimmered, pooling gentle light across the cobbles below. The branches arched over head as the arching vaults of a cathedral, and birds and beasts flicked between them.

For a few breathless moments, Charlotte felt like the protagonist in a fairytale who had just stepped into the enchanted fairy forest. With childlike curiosity, she flitted around the front of the station building, taking in everything that drew her attention. There was a unicorn that trotted down the street with a shopping basket laden with celery and carrots in its mouth.  Carriage and heavily laden wagon bodies were affixed to the backs of giant snails, which slithered down the street at the command of drovers who seemed nonplused by the strangeness of the sight. A giant stomped by with a market stall strapped to its back; it carried it with such ease that it could have easily passed for a moderately heavy backpack. She was so entranced that she nearly tripped over her suitcase once or twice.

She was tracing the lazy arc of a woman slightly older than her in a red dress and a red pointed hat who flew past on a broomstick when she ran straight into someone and found herself on the ground, on her bottom.

“Owie,” she said.

She looked up into the face of another girl, one of the local pooka, about her age. The girl was beautiful for someone with animal features; she looked like a fox with rich, earthy brown fur with cream highlights. Her face was perfect, caramel-colored eyes set in a perfectly proportioned fox face, with just the right bit of makeup to soften her features and make her smile seem warmer than it had any right to be. Behind her tumbled a Dutch braid of chestnut-brown hair, with flowers poking out between the braids and ending in a pink bow. She was wearing the same sort of day dress and bonnet she had worn, but in pink, with white roses embroidered along the hem and a lower neckline. The dress was paired with lacy white-satin elbow-length gloves and a pink lace-fringed parasol. Charlotte blinked. If the girl were wearing a tail pointed cap with streamers, she could have easily stepped out of one of the fairytale picture books she had been forced to read so many times by the Fairy Godmother, the ones with princesses. Charlotte sat there enraptured by her beauty and the uncanniness of similarity between them, her gears skipping a beat here and there.

Her new acquaintance was reaching down with one hand, a worried expression on her face. “Oh dear, oh dear”, she said, a voice that was as sweet as honey,” I am so sorry. I hope you did not hurt yourself.”

Charlotte was so embarrassed that she did not notice that the girl was speaking in perfect Mainspringian English; she did not even have an accent. She took the hand, blushing even harder, and said, “No, sorry, I should have been looking where I was going and not.”

“Chasing after a Silver Moon Sister like a wide-eyed girl in a dream,” said the mystery girl with a playful giggle. “First time in the city?” she asked.

Charlotte, now positively embarrassed, said only, “Yes.”

The mystery girl giggled, “It is a bit much when you first arrive,” she said, flourishing her parasol with half a spin on her toes, “But I would not have it any other way.” The mystery girl giggled again, “You look like you need a guide, and I need to make up for knocking you down. I am on my way to meet a friend for tea at the most splendiferous cafe in town. I would be delighted if you could join us.”

Charlotte looked shocked at how friendly and open this stranger was being, “Surely I cannot, her majesty herself expects me!” She stammered out.

The strange girl smiled sweetly, “Surely our sweet and beloved queen would not mind you being a little late,” she said, “She probably knows that you are already here and in the good hands of me.” The girl hooked her free arm under Charlotte’s. “I am Bea,” said Bea as she pulled Charlotte close.

Charlotte barely got out, “Charlotte.”

“What a pretty name,” said Bea with a giggle as she half-dragged her along the sidewalk, “I have the feeling that we are going to be the best of friends once we have tea together.” Charlotte made a feeble motion as if to indicate that she still had her luggage to worry about, but Bea only smiled. Bea tapped the trunk and the two suitcases twice with her parasol, and the luggage floated along behind them like an obedient puppy.

It turned out they didn’t have far to go to find the absolutely charming cafe Bea mentioned. It was just three blocks south along the bustling tree-shaded streets. All the while, Bea expounded upon the virtues of the city and Slibermond, the city’s magic district.

They crossed under the railroad tracks and passed magic shops, ateliers of artificers and alchemists, and rowhouses, many of which looked more like wizard towers than something you find in a city, all of which were dwarfed by the trees that sprouted all around them. They finally stopped in front of a half-timbered shop 3 stories tall, studded with garden boxes and flowering ivy, with a huge tree growing out of the top on a shady lane. It was the sort of building you expect to find in a fairytale out in the countryside. Charlotte had just enough time to read the sign saying, “The Silver Moon Bakery and Cafe” before Bea dragged her inside.

Much to Charlotte’s surprise, the inside was even more charming than the outside. The lighting was soft and intimate. The smell from the kitchen was absolutely divine. The furnishings were slightly rustic, as if the bakery had gotten them from a yard sale held by the saintly good witch who lived in a quaint cottage out in the woods. Young ladies, girls really, dressed like the witch she had seen earlier, staffed counters overflowing with bread, cakes, and pies.

Bea was practically brimming with excitement, “You are going to love Miss Tansy’s baking, and you positively adore my friend Kai,” she said as she dragged Charlotte up the stairs to the cafe proper.

On the second floor of the bakery, a large room was filled with tables of various sizes and chairs of different styles, all sharing the same fairy-tale, rustic vibe as the bakery downstairs. There was a small stage where a bard was playing folksy music that fit the vibe perfectly. By the wall stood a hat rack festooned with pointy hats and turbans of all varieties, and an umbrella holder filled with ornate staves and walking sticks. Among the tables was an eclectic crowd of men and women of various species. Some wore robes adorned with stars and moons; others wore the same sort of clothes she had seen in the train station.

Bea led Charlotte over to a table laden for a tea party, by a large bay window overlooking the street, with a trio of plush chairs. Waiting there was another girl about their age sitting sideways on her chair, her pouting head in a heap on the table, obviously bored and exhaling small bits of vapor. The girl’s skin was paler than Charlotte’s, with a silverish sheen that reminded her of a snowy landscape. Her eyes glinted silver in the light, and her pupils were narrow slits within silver-glinting irises. Her long hair was so blond it was practically white and tumbled over her shoulder in a ponytail that seemed to have flecks of frost in it. Among the three of them, she was the most fancily dressed, bedecked in diamonds and wearing a silver gown with puff sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Realistic silver dragon wings were affixed to the back, and the skirt was scandalously short, ending in a lace hem just above the knee. Was that a dragon tail sticking out the bottom of her gown and curling around the chair leg? Wait, were those tiny horns on her head real or part of some strange headband? 

The moment the girl saw the two of them, she pounced from her plush chair and tackled Bea, wrapping arms and tail around her. Charlotte shivered as the temperature suddenly dropped around them. “Oh my besty for resty,” she said with enough energy to light a small city, “Where were you? I have been waiting so long, and it is impolite to start  before we are all here, and I am so hungry.” She then noticed Charlotte and released Bea from the aggressive cuddle-hug she was giving. “Who is this pretty little thing?” she asked.

Charlotte could not take her eyes off the horns on her head, her flicking tail, or the slightly twitching wings.

“This is Charlotte, Kai,” said Bea, “She just arrived this morning from Slanach Town.”

The horns transfixed Charlotte to the point that she forgot she had not told Bea where she had just traveled from.

Kai gave the flabbergasted Charlotte a thorough inspection from all angles, her tail trailing lazily behind her. It was an uncomfortable sort of thing as Kai stared at her with those lizard-like eyes, running her manicured, clawed fingers through her hair, and gently poking her cheek before she asked, with the innocence of a child, “Are you clockfolk?”

All Charlotte could do was say, “I guess so,” weakly, as Bea sat her down in the chair. Honestly, she was not sure herself what she was these days.

“I knew,” said Kai with a triumphant flutter of her wings, “You look just like the Dollies my friend Princess Gertrude, and I played with when we were both little, and everybody knows that Clockfolk look like dolls. I miss her greatly, but I still get to play with her grandchildren.”

None of that made much sense to Charlotte, but she guessed that was fitting for Bea to have a friend as strange as Kai. And there were the horns; she could not stop staring at them. There must be some form of silver hair decoration along with the wings and tail. As Kai slumped back into her chair, Charlotte’s curiosity could no longer be contained, and she asked, “Those silver horns are very pretty,” she said carefully. “Are they part of a headpiece? And the wings—are they part of the dress?”

“Nope,” said Kai brightly. “They’re real. I’m a teenage dragon.” She lifted her clawed hands in a vague approximation of menace, grinned, and added, “Rawr.”

Charlotte looked at Bea incredulously. Bea smiled and said, “She is being serious about the dragon bit; she just likes playing dress-up.”

Stunned, Charlotte looked back at Kai again and noticed that her teeth, behind that wide-mouth smile, were sharp and pointed, and that her shadow had a distinctly reptilian outline.

Kai smiled wickedly as she picked up a plate of chocolate cake, “ What? Worried, I am going to eat you? I prefer the fruit of the Aztlan coco tree to queens and princesses, so you have nothing to worry about.”

After Charlotte adjusted to Kai’s overwhelming bubblyness and the fact that she was dragon cosplaying a human girl, she relaxed and enjoyed the tea and sweets. Despite the seeming oddity of their group, Bea and Kai were genuinely pleasant to be around, and she was grateful for it. She was in a strange city, apparently spoke not a word of the local language, and had found not one but two friends, which was more than she had in over a century.

Sure, she had companions for her teatimes back home, on the rare occasions when she wanted that sort of thing… Aedan had seen to that. But before the wish, the ladies of the Mainspringian gentry had been… stiff and overtly formal; they were very much acting against their will, and they knew it. She had not had teatime with company in such a long time, and simply being plain, ordinary Charlotte with two other girls was a breath of fresh air.

The fact that Bea did not lie about the bakery’s cooking was merely icing on the delicious cake.

They talked about the sort of things girls their age and of fine breeding talked about over tea—boys, gossip, and scandal. Kai had apparently arrived that very morning from her home in the Grand Duchy of Silverwings to the north and was ravenous for news. Bea happily obliged, recounting every scandalous mishap and social faux pas that had occurred in Kai’s absence.

Kai burst into delighted laughter, and Charlotte found herself smiling along at every outlandish tale from the king and queen’s court. Bea was a truly gifted storyteller; it almost seemed as though she had personally witnessed every incident she described.

Kai, for her part, was eager to share her own recent adventures. Just days earlier, she had entertained a group of knights from Lyonesse who had come to slay the terrible dragon of the Grand Duchy of Silverwings, aka herself. Naturally, Kai could not resist playing princess. Disguised as Princess Kai—the dragon’s helpless prisoner—she soon had those daring, dashing Lyonesse boys utterly besotted and dancing to her tune.

She admitted, with an unrepentant grin, that she adored having pretty young men fawn over her. One in particular had captured her heart, and she was in Sliberberg to purchase him a gift—something that would make him just a little more draconic, so that they could truly be together forever once he was cured of his galentry.

Charlotte had little to add, so she listened contentedly as Bea and Kai traded stories and inside jokes. It was only when Kai’s tale of her knightly beau dovetailed into talk of the men in their lives that she found herself drawn in.

Bea grew wistful as she spoke of her husband, Fred, and the small, thoughtful gestures he never failed to make. Then Bea and Kai turned on Charlotte almost in unison, asking about the men in her life.

Charlotte flushed crimson as she told them about Ben—his letters, the way her gears skipped when she thought of him, how her knees went weak and her cheeks burned, and the confusion that followed close behind. Bea and Kai teased her mercilessly for her reluctance to commit when she was so obviously in love.

Though her face remained warm throughout the barrage of unsolicited advice about courting and proper dating spots, Charlotte recognized the teasing for what it was: affectionate, good-natured ribbing, the sort shared between close girls. It stirred memories of her childhood in London, and she realized—with a quiet, startling joy—that she had missed this far more than she’d ever known.

However, while this went on, she started to notice something strange. The cafe was packed, and there were plenty of seats around them, but nobody sat in them. It was as if there was an invisible bubble around them. They were also getting strange glances from the other patrons: awestruck disbelief from the older patrons and lovesick longing from the young men. She also kept hearing whispered bits of conversation, as if about them, in words she could not understand. She chalked it up to their combined beauty and charm, and to Bea’s likely status as an important duchess or some other person of note.

The conversation around the tea table eventually turned to the royal family. Charlotte had asked what the King and Queen were like since she was to be a guest in their castle, and Bea and Kai got sparkles in their eyes.

“King Fredrick is the most handsome, sweetest, and charming man in all the world,” said Bea wistfully, “he is a kind and heroic soul, there is no better king in the world.

“Aoibheann is the prettiest and sweetest princess in the world,” said Kai with enthusiasm, “She is a fun-loving girly girl just like us.”

Bea and Kai seemed poised to wax poetic about the royal family for a while when there was a squeaky, “excuse me,” Behind them. They turned to find a pimple-faced human girl, maybe 16, with auburn hair, wearing thick-rimmed glasses and the uniform of one of the Silver Moon apprentices working the cafe. There was a mix of nervousness and starry-eyed idolization in her expression toward the group. “I was wondering if it was not too much trouble,” she said in her squeaky, nervous voice that seemed to be waiting for permission to speak. She closed her eyes, then stuck out a notepad and a pen. “Can I please have your autograph, your majesty? “ the girl said, seemingly expecting this comment to earn her a slap.

Charlotte, Bea, and Kai said, “Yes,” all at once, and reached for the notepad.”

Then, for Charlotte, the penny finally dropped, and everything made sense. Bea was not just a random passer-by she happened to bump into; apparently, the goddaughter who was going to be her host had decided to come to the station to meet her. And now that she thought about it, this whole tea party situation read like a bad joke: three princesses entered a cafe, a fox girl, a dragon girl, and a clockwork girl, and she could not help but laugh at the absurdity.

“Queen Aoibheann,” asked Charlottethrough giggles.

“Yes, Queen Charlotte,” smiled Aoibheann.

“When were you going to tell me your true identity?” asked Charlotte.

“Oh, I was waiting for the right moment,” said Aoibheann as she sipped her tea with a smile, “Plus I like slipping out of the castle and being plain, ordinary Bea the Pooka from time to time.”

Charlotte turned to Kai,” And you are,” she asked.

“I am her eternal majesty, Princess Kaida Von Silverwing, the Silver Dragon ruler of the most gorgeous and delightful Grand Duchy of Silverwings,” said Kaida with overwrought grandeur, “We figure we’ll give you a proper welcome to our little immortal fairy princess club.”

“Immortal fairy princess club,” said Charlotte with a smile as she pondered her cup, “OH, I like the sound of that.”

The scene was interrupted by the sound of “uhhhhhhhhhhhh” coming from overwhelmed lips. The three monarchs turned to see the apprentice witch girl, white as a sheet, seemingly having not moved a muscle in the last minute.

“Uh, I think we should do something,” said Kaida with a hint of concern on her face.

Thinking quickly, Aoibheann grabbed the notepad and scribbled her name before passing it to Charlotte. Charlotte did the same before passing it to Kaida, who also signed it. The poor girl still fainted the moment that Kaida put the notebook with three regal signatures into her hands, clearly overwhelmed by meeting three fairytale princesses at once.

Aoibheann decided they made too much of a scene with the little witch girl fainting. It was for the best that they leave before anyone else succumbed to starstruckness, but not before Aoibheann used her magic to restore the girl to consciousness, and the three tipped the girl in shiny new Guldenmarks. The little apprentice witch was so utterly flabbergasted at the tip that she fainted once again.

Minutes later, they had piled into Aoibheann’s fancy carriage, a carriage that seemingly manifested out of nowhere on the street for an impromptu tour of the city. As they piled in, Kaida and Aoibheann discarded any pretense of disguise. Kaida transformed as she dove onto one of the couch-like seats. Without any flash or sparkle, silver scales that radiated frost replaced her smooth skin. Her facial features elongated into something more dragonlike, yet somehow still cute, young, and feminine. The wings, tail, claws, and strangely, her hair remained. When the transformation was over, she was still a dragon girl but looking more dragon than girl. She promptly fished out a silver tiara with white heart-shaped gems from her purse and put it on her silver hair before stretching out on a bench like a girl lying on her bed.

Aoibheann’s transformation was more fairybook in execution. In a shower of golden sparkles, her fox-like features and fur melted away, revealing sharp sidhe features and light brown skin. Her dress puffed up, flared, and sprouted extra layers, lace, and ruffles until it became an almost stereotypical fairytale princess dress. As a final touch, her bonnet became a tiara atop her chestnut locks.

The pair really did look like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty now, and Charlotte felt underdressed, so she blushed slightly.

“Don’t make that face, Charly darling,” said Aoibheann, “We can fix that with a little magic if you do not mind?” Charlotte nodded. “Now close your eyes and think of how you wish to be dressed,” said Aoibheann as she tapped Charlotte lightly on her head and shoulders, “and the magic will do the rest.”

Charlotte did as she was told. For some reason, her mind drifted back to paintings and photos she had seen of Queen Victoria when she was her age. Charlotte could not see the change, but she felt it—the sensible daywear softening, refining, becoming something quietly regal. When the sparkles had subsided, Kaida oohed, and Aoibheann looked quite pleased with herself. “A little reserved for my taste, but a marked improvement. Charlotte opened her eyes and looked perplexed until she saw her reflection in the coach’s window. She was dressed just like a younger version of the queen she had known when she was a simple teenage girl from Earth; she even wore the same style of tiny crown Victoria always wore in public.

“There you are officially part of the club,” said Aoibheann, satisfied, and gave her a big hug. Kaida pounced from her bench and joined the hug with arms and legs.

“So what next?” asked Charlotte as the carriage started to rumble down the streets.

Aoibheann grinned, “We got the entire kingdom to ourselves, girls. My darling husband is away on business elsewhere, and my little ones left this morning with their nanny for a visit to their favorite Aunty, the Fairy Godmother. I say we forgo being adults and monarchs for the rest of the day and have ourselves an old-fashioned sleepover, any objections, girls?”

“Oh, Oh, I second that motion,” said Kaida, practically bouncing in time with the bumps in the road.

All eyes turn to Charlotte. She did not know what a sleepover was, but if these two were excited, then it must be worth it. She smiled and said, “Yes.”

The carriage rolled on back up the mountain, and the three girls inside traded stories and giggles like old friends. Charlotte could not remember a time when she had been this happy. For the first time in a century, she had friends, real friends, the sort that were not just programmed to be her friends. She could tell that this would be the first of many fun times together.