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to find her at her door.
    â€œFay,” she said, trying not to sound either too falsely welcoming or too nonplussed. “What can I do for you?” The relationship between her and her mother-in-law had been cautiously cordial but never warm. This was the woman, after all, who had raised Prentis to be the way he was. Mama’s little crown prince.
    â€œPower outage, my sweet patootie,” said Fay severely. “Power outrage, is more like it. Power scandal.”
    â€œHuh?” Buffy absorbed little of this, being hung up on the sweet patootie. I wrinkle, therefore I yam? “Sweet what? ”
    â€œFairy tale is NOTHING TO BE SCOFFED AT.” Fay advanced upon the door, and Buffy was sufficiently flabbergasted to back up. A white-and-golden frigate, Fay sailed into the kitchen.
    In the aquarium, Adamus leaped about like oversized green popcorn, yelping, “Fairy Godmother! Fairy Godmother! Fairy Godmother!”
    â€œIt’s just my mother-in-law,” Buffy protested.
    â€œFairy Godmother!” the frog appealed like a tattling kid. “Make her kiss me. Get me out of here!”
    Fay was looking around as if she saw no frog, heard no frog. “You’ve got mud on your floor,” she said, apparently to Buffy, though she was looking at the mud. “And what’s that, dead beetles?”
    The unspoken message came through loud and clear: No Wonder Prentis Left You. Buffy allowed herself to be rude. “Fay, what are you doing here?”
    Looking around, perhaps mentally cataloging the cobwebs in the corners and the grease on the stove, Fay did not answer, but Adamus leaped at the glass and shouted, “She has come to rescue me!” Leap. “I am Prince Adamus d’Aurca!” Leap. “You warthead, don’t believe in anything, how do you think I talk?” LEAP leap. “A frog can’t talk. A frog has no ribs. But I have ribs.” The frog ricocheted wildly, splashing water out of the aquarium onto the muddy floor. “A frog has barely any brain. But I have access to the biggest brain there is. I—”
    â€œSit, you ninny,” Fay told the frog. “Rescue, my sweet patootie. This Murphy person summoned me, that’s all.”
    â€œHuh?” Buffy said.
    â€œBut how should she have access to the Pool? I am the archetype!” Adamus caromed yet more crazily, splattering water onto his putative fairy godmother. “I am the handsome Jung prince! You must rescue me!”
    â€œWould you stop it?” Being showered by eau de frog, stepping away, Fay slipped on the freshly slimed mud and lost her temper. “SQUAT!” she bellowed.
    Adamus squatted instantly, silent and motionless except for the throbbing of his throat.
    The gilded godmother turned on Buffy. “And you call yourself a storyteller,” she barked. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Are you going to kiss him?”
    â€œHell, no!” Aside from being irritated by the uncanny presence of this whatever-she-was, fairy godmother-in-law, Buffy felt heartily annoyed that Adamus had actually obeyed Fay. Whose frog was this, dammit? Fay had always tried to take over everything, and Buffy had always put up with her bossiness, but no more. Been there, done that. Buffy squared off, hands on her considerable hips. “I am not going to kiss him and nobody else is going to kiss him.”
    â€œMay I ask why not?”
    â€œHe’s mine. Like I would kiss the goose that laid the golden egg?” Ow. Bad metaphor. But Buffy forged on. “He’s my lucky frog.” And she deserved some luck, dammit, after Prentis. “He’s gonna help me quit the day job.”
    It would have been nice if Fay had argued. But Fay merely became suddenly disappointingly calm. Fay caressed her own golden hair with golden fingernails and contemplated both Buffy and the frog with glittering indifference. Did they make golden contact lenses? The