Transformed: The Perils of the Frog Prince

by Megan Morrison

  His place at the long family table, however, had not changed. He was still at the children’s end, mostly surrounded by nieces and nephews, so far from his parents that he had no idea what they were discussing with his older siblings.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” said Asti, who sat beside him looking like the young future queen she was. Syrah was startled by the change in his little niece, who was not so little anymore. “How are the triplets?”

  “How is Bradley, you mean?” said Syrah, raising an eyebrow. “I heard he kissed you.”

  “He tried to kiss me,” she replied. “I prefer Walter. He doesn’t say stupid things.”

  Laughter drifted from the head of the table, where his mother the queen was very much enjoying something that Crown Prince Taurasi the Perfect had just said. Syrah felt a stab of jealousy. He wished he were part of it.

  Maybe he ought to go up there. Sit down with them. Make himself part of it.

  He got up, feeling strangely nervous, and went toward his parents. Halfway to his destination, he was stopped by Deli’s older brother Christophen, who stood up to greet him, holding a tiny triplet in either arm.

  “Congratulations,” said Syrah.

  “Thanks,” said Christophen, who looked exhausted. “Deli just Relayed. She said my pa is doing fine, and I shouldn’t come home. Then Ma Relayed and told me she needs me to get on the next ship and help her take care of him, but …” He looked down at his babies. “I’m kind of busy,” he said. “How was he, when you saw him? Do you think I should head home? Be honest.”

  “I think you should stay here,” said Syrah. “He’s not dying.”

  “She said he wakes up every day thinking it’s the day before they left for the ATC.”

  “It’s true,” said Syrah. “His mind isn’t right anymore — I’m sorry. But he’s healthy otherwise. You could probably visit in six months or a year and things would be about the same. He’s walking again, a little bit, and he’s eating. He’s pretty cheerful, actually. He thinks he’s governor, and your mother won’t let anybody tell him otherwise.”

  “So he has no idea who won the election.”

  “Wait — did they publish the results?” said Syrah eagerly. “Who won?”

  “I thought you would have heard.”

  “No, I just got off the boat — who’s governor?”

  “Nexus Burdock.”

  The news hit Syrah like a stone in the gut. “That’s a mistake,” he said. “A big one.”

  “Technically he didn’t commit any crime,” said Christophen. “He was a child when he hid his sister from the law, and after thirty years he can’t be punished for that.”

  “I had to talk him out of murdering me and Harrow Steelcut,” said Syrah angrily. “But since he didn’t actually do it, I guess he’s still governor material.”

  “This is why I’m for the monarchy,” said his sister Marsanne, looking up from the triplet she was nursing. “Less mess. You know what you’re getting.”

  “What about Clementine Pease?” asked Syrah. “Is she still minister of agriculture, at least?”

  “No, Governor Nexus dismissed her and appointed someone else.”

  Syrah slapped his forehead in frustration. “Luffa never should have pushed for that election so fast.”

  Christophen looked taken aback. “Have some respect,” he said.

  “I have great respect,” said Syrah. “That doesn’t mean I can’t think she’s wrong.”

  “And having the election was wrong?”

  “She held Declaration Day too soon. She wanted your father out of the race, so she forced things ahead before people had a chance to recover from the Purge. They voted out of fear. They see Burdock as a protector — he’s not, but now Yellow is stuck with him. What reason did he even give for getting rid of Clementine?”

  “Her ties to Ubiquitous,” Christophen replied.

  “There are good reasons to be distrustful of Ubiquitous these days,” said Marsanne sagely. “Yesterday, the Governor Nexus permanently banned all Ubiquitous products in Yellow Country. The Blue Kingdom did the same.”

  “Banned them!” said Syrah in surprise.

  “Did they really?” said his older brother Carnelian, leaning across the table to get in on the conversation. “That’s huge news.”

  “It was in the Criers this morning,” said his sister Barbera, who sat near the head of the table. “And I’m personally against it. People use those acorns for help with all sorts of things. You can’t just take away something that people rely on — not unless you have a plan to replace it.”

  “Those acorns are killing people,” said Bianca, beside her. “Children died in that Purge. If one of them had been yours, you would feel differently.”

  “I agree,” said Carnelian. “Sometimes, a situation is so urgent that it demands a swift decision, plan or not.”

  “Exalted Nexus Keene is urging all governments to ban those acorns,” said Queen Claret. “Ubiquitous magic is causing widespread chaos. First that terrible fire in Quintessential, then poison in the soil of Cornucopia, and now there are signs that animals are being affected.”

  “Animals?” said Syrah, surprised. He hadn’t heard about this. “Where?”

  “Certain violent creatures of Crimson have been seen outside their usual territories,” said his mother. “There are reports that dangerous animals all over Tyme are growing in number, as well as rumors of strange, unidentified beasts coming out of the Impassable Swamps.”

  Maybe this was what Exalted Aravinda had meant when she had talked about the stakes.

  “What about here?” Syrah demanded.

  “We haven’t seen any trouble,” said his father. “The benefits of being an ocean away from the mainland are many. But we are seriously considering Nexus Keene’s advice. The best way to protect our people may be to rid the islands of Ubiquitous now, before we see negative effects — not after.”

  Syrah frowned. “Maybe,” he said. “But we should do our own investigation. I can tell you from experience that ‘Governor Nexus’ Burdock, or whatever he’s calling himself, is nobody to follow.”

  “What about the Blue Kingdom?” said Bianca.

  “King Clement is weak,” said his mother, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t trust him.”

  “Exactly,” said Syrah. “We should handle this our own way. Did Burdock even ask the people if this was what they wanted, or did he just issue a ban?”

  “He issued a ban,” said Bianca. “He’s protecting his people — whether they want those acorns or not, it’s still the right thing to do.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said Syrah, thinking of his conversation with Luffa. “People want a voice. If Burdock makes a move like that without their consent and support, it will come back to burn him.”

  His eldest brother, Crown Prince Taurasi the Perfect, had set down his goblet and was staring at him. “Listen to you, little brother,” he said. “Paying attention to world government and current events? I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “Wait until I’m one of your advisors,” Syrah replied. “Then you’ll be really surprised.”

  His older siblings chuckled tolerantly, making Syrah bristle. Taurasi smirked. “We’ll see,” he said, and though Syrah longed to shoot back that he would see, he knew better than to say anything else just yet. He would have to do things, get involved, show them he meant it. It was going to take time.

  Nearly sixteen months as a frog had taught him plenty.

  One week later, he sat on the roof of the Pavilions, perched on a wide, white parapet, a spyglass in his hand, watching the Tranquil Sea and waiting. When the ship he was waiting for came into view, he nearly jumped in the ocean and swam out to meet it. Instead, he got up and ran, racing down the stairs and across the Pavilions at top speed. He shimmied behind the waterfalls and, out of habit, stopped under the plumeria tree. If Nana Cava had been alive, he would have picked a flower for her.

  He plucked one anyway and twirled
the blossom in his fingertips — and then he smiled. He knew someone whose hair he could tuck it into. Nana Cava would have liked her. She was brave as anything.

  Syrah ran the rest of the way to the docks and reached them, panting. When the ship finally pulled into port, two people disembarked who made Syrah’s heart leap. The boy was short, with dark hair and bright eyes, and the girl was tall, with fair hair that hung to her waist, rippling in the sea breeze and glinting in the sun.

  “Rapunzel,” Syrah said warmly, when she approached him. He reached out his hands to her, but she did not take them. She gazed at him, unspeaking.

  “You’re really him?” she said. “Prince Frog?”

  Syrah nodded.

  “Then … he’s never coming back. He’s really gone for good.”

  Syrah looked to Jack for help.

  “He’s literally right in front of you,” said Jack. “He’s just not a frog anymore.”

  Rapunzel studied Syrah for another minute. “I’m glad you’re a person again, of course, if that’s what you want to be, Prince Frog.” She stopped. “I mean, Prince Syrah.” She stopped again and looked at Jack. “Wait, do I have to say ‘Your Highness’?”

  “Never,” said Syrah. “Look, I know it’ll take some getting used to. But I feel like we’re friends already — I know so much about you.”

  “I can’t believe you were with us all that time,” said Jack. “You heard everything we said — saw everything we did.”

  “Everything,” Syrah agreed. “Every single thing.” He grinned in a way that made pink patches flare in Jack’s cheeks.

  “I’ve really missed you,” said Rapunzel.

  “I’ve missed you too.” Syrah tucked the plumeria flower behind Rapunzel’s ear. “Welcome to Balthasar,” he said. “Come on, I have something for you.”

  He took the two of them to a little inlet a few leagues down the shore, where a sailboat stood waiting. He had spent most of the week getting it ready for them.

  “It’s for you,” said Syrah. “Both of you. So you can have adventures at sea.”

  “Are you serious?” said Jack, delighted. “This is amazing.”

  Rapunzel said nothing. She looked anxiously from the small boat to the big blue ocean, and Syrah knew what she was thinking.

  “You took care of me,” he said. “You didn’t know who I was, but you were always kind — we’ll just pretend the part where you almost froze me to death never happened,” he said, when Rapunzel looked suddenly guilty. “Let me help you with this. Let me teach you to swim.” He held out his hand.

  Tentatively, Rapunzel put hers into it. “But I’m scared,” she whispered.

  He squeezed her fingers. “You’ve done scarier things.”

  She seemed heartened by this. “That’s true. All right — teach me.”

  Before the day was out, she had taken her first strokes. Soon after, Syrah was able to coax her onto the sailboat. Inside of a month, she was handling the sails herself, confidently steering around the southern tip of the island and back again. They were nearing the Pavilion docks when Syrah heard a hoarse shout.

  “Looking semi-fit, Syrah!”

  It was Deli. She stood on the launchball practice platform, tossing the golden ball up into the air and catching it again in rhythm. Syrah motioned for Rapunzel to turn the boat around.

  “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow,” he said when they got close enough.

  “Grandmother Luffa missed the islands. Said she couldn’t wait another day.”

  Syrah completely understood. “When did you get here?”

  “An hour ago. Harrow’s at the Pavilions, and he’s pretty excited to see you. I cannot for the life of me figure out why.”

  “And you’re out here practicing?” he teased, tutting at her. “It’s not even the season yet.”

  “Champions only have one season.”

  Syrah grinned. “Challenge accepted,” he said. “Let’s do some training.”

  Deli set her ball down in a basket. “You have to earn the right to train with me.”

  “By?”

  “Beating me. In this race. Go!” She dove into the water and took off.

  “Where are we even racing to?” Syrah shouted after her, but she wasn’t about to stop. He jumped off the boat and started swimming toward his home, with Rapunzel and Jack cheering behind him.

  For a while, he raced as fast as he could go, feeling the beautiful stretch in his arms as they cut through the water, feeling the beautiful burn in his legs as they kicked. Then, lost in the ecstasy of it, he forgot about winning, and Deli, and everything in the world except how good it felt to be right where he was. He rolled onto his back to float in the warm sea, and he gazed up at the blue sky, his heart full to bursting, laughing simply because he could.

  This book exists because of

  Ruth Virkus

  Nick Thomas

  Cheryl Klein

  Kristin Brown

  Devin Smither

  Ben Layne

  David Carpman

  Kathy MacMillan

  Melissa Anelli

  Gerry and Mike Morrison

  Malcolm and Elinor

  Reign

  my students

  and coffee.

  Megan Morrison is a middle-school teacher and a writer. She cofounded the Harry Potter fan fiction site the Sugar Quill, and has been developing the world of Tyme since 2003. She lives near Seattle, Washington, with her family. Please visit her website at meganmorrison.net and follow her on Twitter at @megtyme.

  Text and maps copyright © 2019 by Megan Morrison

  Maps by Kristin Brown

  The world of Tyme is co-created by Megan Morrison and Ruth Virkus.

  All rights reserved. Published by Arthur A. Levine Books, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. scholastic and the lantern logo are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  First edition, April 2019

  Cover art © 2019 by Iacopo Bruno

  Cover design by Baily Crawford

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-11394-5

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.