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“Problems, mortal?” Quill asked as I lugged the Palollipop dress through the door.

The thing felt like it was a hundred pounds of tulle and ribbon and silk roses, and I was relieved when I got inside and could lay it over one of the café chairs.

Quill watched, practically hopping from foot to foot with glee.

“Nothing you can’t help with,” I said.

That stopped the hopping. She narrowed her eyes at me, looking for all the world like a cat who’d thought it was getting a treat and suddenly realized a trip to the vet was on the horizon. “What do you imagine I can help you with?” she asked stiffly.

“I was thinking you could play Princess Palollipop at the party today,” I said.

She threw her head back and laughed, revealing the very pale skin of her throat, and she kept right on laughing until she realized I wasn’t laughing with her.

“Mortal?” she said. “Surely you jest.”

“Believe me, I really wish this were a joke.” Bracing myself, I lifted the dress again and held it up. It actually looked like it would fit her pretty well, so at least I had that going for me.

Quill took a giant step back, coming up hard against one of the café chairs. “There is no way I’m going to wear that and pretend to be a being called Princess Palollipop .”

I took a deep breath and thought about what Roger had said to me. Not the flippant remark about what could go wrong, but the thing about handling hiccups. I’d gotten this far in planning this party. There was no way I was going to let one princess with a stomach bug ruin it.

And if that meant I had to beg, then so be it.

“Please, Quill?” I said. “Please, please, please, will you play a princess at the party? I would do it, but the birthday girl knows who I am already. Look—I’ve got the dress. I’ve got the wig and the tiara. And I can help do your makeup.”

Despite being pinned by the chair behind her, Quill attempted another step backward. “I will not wear any of that.”

Tears pricked at my eyes as I imagined all the hard work I’d put in washed down the drain. My shoulders slumped, the dress sagging to the floor. “I’m desperate, Quill. I know it’s a huge favor, but please. I’ll do anything.”

The look of horror that had been plastered all over Quill’s face ever since I suggested she play Palollipop turned to interest and she shuffled an inch or two away from the chair. “Really? You’re saying I would be doing you a favor?”

That seemed to be working, so I leaned into it. “Yes. Absolutely. I’d really owe you one.”

Her gaze turned calculating. “And I would be royalty, obviously. A princess.”

“It’s like the role was made for you,” I said.

She considered this for a moment, then smiled. “Very well, mortal. I will do you this very big favor, and you will, as you said, owe me one.”

I didn’t quite like the way she was once again dancing with glee, but I didn’t have time to think too much about that. “Come on. You can get ready in my apartment.”

Did I have misgivings about passing a mercurial Unseelie queen off as an upbeat cartoon princess?

Of course I did.

But was I also secretly kind of impressed with myself for handling what was one very big hiccup?

I sure was.

I was also pretty impressed with my quick-thinking regarding the sidewalk disaster I had going on in front of the café.

I didn’t have a hose, but the Enchanted Forest did.

I called Cass and explained the situation.

She said she was in the middle of something but that she was more than happy to send over her daughter with the hose.

Hiccup number two: solved.

(It was a real shame that customers don’t really appreciate a clean, puke-free sidewalk. I mean, if I wasn’t able to clean it, that would be something they might put in a review. But I suppose “Five stars: No puke on sidewalk” might be kind of off-putting as a review.)

Once I had that taken care of, I helped Quill—or rather, tried to help her.

Mostly I offered suggestions while trying to stay out of bite range.

(She was surprisingly fast, honestly.) She kept shooting me poisonous looks, but she ended up taking my suggestions on her makeup, and she only ate the tip off one of my lipsticks.

I decided to call that a win.

I left her in my apartment to wait for her entrance cue and hurried downstairs, hoping I’d have just enough time to spray down my sidewalk before Julia arrived.

Happily, Cass’s daughter hadn’t just brough the hose over—she’d hooked it up to my outside spigot and washed the sidewalk clean while I was upstairs.

When I got outside, she was already recoiling the hose.

“Thank you so much,” I said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

“No problem,” she said, focusing on unkinking part of the hose so she could continue wrapping it around her arm.

I was surprised by how much she looked like her mother, although she had a certain laidback vibe that was all her own.

Then she looked up at me, and her face went from amused to confused to concerned. “Where did you get that?” she asked, gesturing at me with the loop of hose in her hand.

I looked down. “Oh, the apron? Your mom let me borrow it. I hope that’s okay.” A horrible thought struck me. “You don’t have any catering gigs today, do you?” Maybe she needed it herself.

“No. It’s just...” She pressed her lips together, her cheeks growing pink as she became suddenly very interested in the hose. “That’s not one of my catering aprons. It’s, um...It’s part of a French maid costume I have. For, uh, time I spend with my wife.”

French maid costume.

Time with her wife.

Not a catering apron.

I looked down at what I was wearing, the heart-shaped upper part and all that lace suddenly making a lot more sense.

I was wearing the apron from a slutty maid costume.

To a kids’ birthday party.

Okay. Well, bedazzled cat apron it was, then. At least I’d found out before anyone showed up so I could change.

I was reaching behind me to untie the apron when a car turned into the parking lot, Julia behind the wheel. She caught sight of me and gave me a quick wave before pulling into one of the closest spots.

Margot shot me an apologetic look before slinking off to throw the hose in the back of her car. “Good luck,” she called as she climbed into her car, leaving me behind to greet the birthday girl and her mom wearing a sex apron.

Not that it was obvious it was a sex apron, I reassured myself. I certainly hadn’t realized that when I put it on. It just looked like a super fancy apron. No one would know if I just played it cool.

As Julia opened the car door for her daughter, I tried to picture myself looking into a mirror.

Be cool. It’s just an apron, Glory. There’s nothing sexy about it.

Everything was going to fine.

And then Julia turned to walk into the building, and she seemed to get her first good look at me. Her eyes widened, her eyebrows shooting up as she stared at me, and I had a very good feeling that she was familiar with a certain sexy French maid costume.

It was a kids’ birthday party. What could go wrong?

Thanks, Roger.