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"You never complain about Stone Soup."
"I like Stone Soup," said the cow. "Stone Soup is an honest con. We get a meal, everyone thinks they've seen a little bit of magic, you sell the stone for a little bit of pocket money, you pick up another stone at the next town. Everyone gets something."
"And if I remember right, you were the one who suggested we steal the magic beans."
"That wasn't stealing, that was a legitimate trade."
"A legitimate trade for a talking cow that disappeared by morning?"
"He didn't even lock the barn! How is that my fault?" She huffed and laid her head onto her forelimbs. The stalk of grass in her lips wobbled with her scowl. "Old fool never knew what he had."
Jack hummed. He craned forward to get a better look into the tiny, cracked glass, pulled gently at the corner of his eye and delicately dabbed the makeup brush.
"My point is," said the cow, "this all seems rather - cruel."
Jack turned. One half of his face was magnificently painted in faerie shades of blues and violets. The other half was just confused. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"For gods' sake, Jack, this is a perfectly innocent girl who you plan on humiliating in front of the royal court."
"How would she be humiliated? As far as she'll know, she'll have a lovely time at a lovely ball in a lovely ballgown."
"You don't have a lovely ballgown!"
"Well I can't afford a ballgown, now can I?!"
"So you're going to make her waltz in her fucking underclothes?!"
He took a dramatic breath. "Look," he said, brandishing the makeup brush. "If it worked on the fucking emperor, it'll work on a fucking scullery maid. If she gets told by a fairy that she's wearing a fairy dress that can only be seen by intelligent people, she is going to believe like hell that she's wearing the very image of sartorial extravaganza."
The brush was masterfully twiddled. "And when everyone else finds out that she's wearing a fairy dress that can only be seen by intelligent people, there won't be a single person in that room who would dare to disagree."
The cow shook her head. "I don't know, Jack," she sighed. "I just don't know."
"It'll be fine," Jack said, turning back to the tiny glass and bringing a deft hand again on the canvas. "Trust me. How did you do finding the slippers?"
"Couldn't find crystal," said the cow. "Best I could get were a glass set from an elf down at the cobbler's."
Jack hummed. "Well, they shouldn't be that important. Nobody will look too closely at her shoes."
***
There were two guards at the palace gate, slabs of meat and muscle wrapped in candybright costumes. They looked every bit as solid as the iron gate between them, and looked like the kind of guard prepared for every kind of foolishness they'd see tonight.
They weren't prepared for the woman who stepped down from the cow-drawn wagon. Her slippers gleamed amber in the torchlight, and her dress was... It was...
Well, the fey who hung over her shoulder told them that her dress was a beautiful thing, spun from the glimmer of starlight, the sound of snowfall, and the colour of the moon. He said that any discerning gentleman could tell that this was true, and the guards agreed.
Neither of them had looked too closely at the dress. In fact, they had been trying to carefully, politely and inexplicably avert their gaze.
***
It had been, Jack decided, a wonderful night.
The story of the woman with the fairy dress had spread through the party like - well, gossip, which is what it was, but it was gossip said by the rich, who couldn't afford to be wrong, and that was just as good as wildfire.
The real magic had been when the prince had asked her to dance. Her chemise had twirled like a dishrag, and everyone in the watching crowd that night would swear they saw her gown glimmer and gleam in a whorl of stars and snowlight.
And that was all well and good until midnight, when she had slipped her arm into his, gave the prince an "Attends un moment!" that glittered with polite laughter, and hauled Jack away from the hors d'oeuvres.
He slipped the squidgy grey thing he had been eating into a pocket. "May I help you, my lady?"
"I need to talk to you."
"But of course, my-"
"Now."
Jack heard the tone.
Oh fuck, he thought.
Her glass slippers made high, clear, silver sounds as she marched across the marble floors and out onto the balcony. She let him go and stepped away, breathing in the cool, clear air of the summer night, smelling of night stock and distant rain.
Her shoulders were shaking.
Jack felt something in his heart turn cold. Oh fuck, he thought. Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck. I've gone too far, the spell's been broken, the con's gone bad, I have to get her out of here-
And then she made a... noise.
He would've called it a laugh, only it sounded like the kind of noise made by an aroused boar. It was joined by a rivulet of little snorts.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry." She turned. She looked at him. She turned away again and melted into snorting hysterics.
Jack blinked. "My lady?"
"I'm sorry," she said again. She took a few calming breaths, bubbling with suppressed laughter. "I'm sorry. But holy fuck, did you see their faces?"
"Uh," said Jack.
"I mean what a bunch of morons. Fucking hell, look at this thing." She grabbed the collar of the chemise and pulled it up for an experimental sniff. "The Duchess wouldn't stop talking about how opulent and extravagant it is. I think I haven't washed this thing in a week."
The penny dropped and activated his brain. "How long have you...?"
She flapped a hand. "Oh, from the start," she said. "At first I just wanted to see how far we'd get. I thought we'd be turned away at the gate, but then it just kept going!"
She pulled herself up to sit on the balcony rail and grinned at him, glass slippers glittering as she swung her legs. "There has to be a market for this," she said. "Selling fairy clothes to the nobs? Get the whole royal court's bits flapping about?"
Jack stared, and in spite of himself, felt his face grinning back. "Nah," he said. "Already did that with the emperor. No point in pulling the same con again."
Her face lit up. "So that was you! I thought so! You got a long con going on here?"
"Something like that."
"I want in."
"I already have a partner."
"I know. She's lovely. I want in."
He stared. He shrugged. He offered her his arm. "Why don't we head down to the stables to talk about it with her?"
They had made it down to the outer court before she drew herself up short. "Damn."
"What?"
"I think I lost a slipper."
"Oh, don't worry about that," said Jack. "It was only a glass set, anyways."