"My master sold me to pay his passage on a ship home," the bird said. "He knew good food. Fresh food, from the hunt!"
For once, Anahita was glad of her veil, for it hid her smile. "The bird looks thin and hungry. But it's not eating. Is it sick?"
The man began to sweat. "If Her Highness wishes for a more robust bird, may I suggest – "
"How much for the sick bird?"
"For Her Highness, I recommend – "
Haidar named a price that was far too low for the sweet little falcon.
Five minutes later, they left the stall, with Asad carrying the falcon's cage.
Not jewels or silks or the costliest carpet could catch Anahita's eye after that. She made one more stop, at a stall selling snacks and drinks, before demanding that Haidar and Asad accompany her out of the city.
She'd made sure to buy a selection of their favourite cakes, so neither man complained as they took her to one of her favourite hunting spots.
Thirteen
Darkness had descended by the time Anahita headed back inside the city gates. The guards called a challenge, but the moment they spotted Haidar and Asad, they moved aside, bowing to let them pass.
Anahita cradled her new bird to her chest, stroking her feathers as the falcon slept off her fresh-caught feast. Anahita had never seen a bird fish before, but this one seemed born to it, plucking fish and frogs out of the oasis faster than she'd seen her little brothers gobble treats. The bird had laid the first corpses at her feet, and Anahita had thanked her, before telling her she could eat her fill today without needing to share.
As they passed through the bazaar, now lit by torches and busier than ever, there was a buzz that had nothing to do with some sheikh or rumours of distant battles. No, this was the buzz of energy that only came when Maram arrived home. Some claimed they had seen her, while others swore they would line the streets on the morrow, hoping to catch a glimpse of her on her way to the public bathhouse that would be closed for her private use.
Anahita had no idea why her sister chose to patronise the ancient public bathhouse instead of the perfectly private one in the palace, but the people loved that she did.
Anahita had her own reasons to be happy Maram was home. She would have stories to tell about her travels, gifts she'd been given by the people of the various courts she'd visited, and as the Sultan's favourite daughter, her apartments were as opulent as a queen's. So when Anahita joined her for dinner this evening – as she always did when Maram was home – it would be a far pleasanter affair than eating alone, for Haidar and Asad weren't supposed to share her meals. And of course, Maram had charmed the palace cooks like she did everyone else, so the delicacies at her table outshone even the Sultan's feasts. Not to mention the exotic things she brought home from her travels.
The next morning found her fuzzy-headed from the strong berry wine Maram had generously plied her with, but the fuzziness faded fast when Haidar opened the door to her chamber.
"A message from the Sultan, Your Highness," he said gravely.
The message was important enough to be delivered by one of the Sultan's wives. Anahita's heart sank. She was usually beneath the notice of the wives, except when a marriage was in the wind. Then, the highest ranking wife delivered the order. Unwillingly, Anahita sank to her knees. "Your Majesty," she murmured. It was a safer bet than remembering the woman's name.
The wife flashed her teeth in a mirthless smile. "Princess, you are commanded to travel to the camp of Sheikh Basit, where you will become his bride. You will depart in a week."
Anahita grimaced. While she didn't know this woman's name, Basit was the name that had been on everyone's lips in the marketplace yesterday.
Her father intended to send her to her death again. Would he ever learn? Or perhaps he liked things this way.
Anahita mumbled something about how grateful she was to the wife and the Sultan for making this match for her. Whatever she said, it met with the wife's satisfaction, and she left.
The door clicked shut, and only then did Anahita let rip with the most colourful swear words she could come up with at this latest development.
"Another marriage?"
She looked up. Asad had managed to enter the room on hunter's feet, silent as ever.
"To Sheikh Basit."
He nodded. "Another bastard, no doubt. The marketplace was abuzz about him. When do we leave?"
Anahita didn't hesitate. "Five days. Before Father's official party is prepared, so it's just the three of us. Can you tell Haidar?"
Asad bowed, grinning. "Of course. He'll be as happy to get out of the palace as I am. Are you bringing your new bird?"
Anahita felt a pang of regret, not taking Vega with her for the first time. But Merlin, the frog-hunting falcon, would be a suitable companion for the journey. "Of course I'm taking my bird. Someone has to take her hunting. Think of all the oases on the way."
"I hope Princess Maram brought home some barbarian recipes for cooking frogs, then," Asad called back as he left.
Ugh. Merlin could keep her frogs. Anahita wasn't letting one near her lips, cooked or otherwise.
Fourteen
"This is new. See, the colour of the water? It has not lain here long. And there are no trees yet, though those will grow." Asad nodded at a clump of tiny date palms. "We will camp here for the night," he said, and neither Haidar or Anahita argued.
Anahita eyed the sparkling water, clearer than the other, muddy oases they'd seen along the way. She longed to bathe, after so many days collecting dust as they traversed the desert, and this oasis looked too tempting to resist.
Haidar seemed to have read her mind. "You bathe while we set up camp. Then that bird of yours can hunt while we start a fire to cook whatever it catches."
"Don't let her cook it, or she'll poison us all," Asad said.
They all laughed. None of them would ever forget Asad's failed attempts to teach her to cook. Anahita could manage two cooking styles – charred or raw, neither of which was particularly edible.
"I wager that bird of yours won't catch much. The oasis is too new for anything to live in it yet. Perhaps in a few seasons you will have better luck. Good thing I have plenty of dried meat to season the stew," Asad continued.
"I'll take that wager," Haidar said smoothly. "Desert creatures find water faster than you give them credit for. And that bird has sharper eyes than your dull ones."
Anahita left the boys to bicker while she went to bathe. She stripped off her clothes, folding them beside the water's edge, and stepped into the water's embrace. It was colder than she'd expected, especially after being warmed all day by the sun. For all that it was a new oasis, the waters must run deep to stay so cool.
She immersed herself fully, gasping as it felt like cold fingers reaching for her, stroking away the dust and sweat of the journey as she plunged in deeper.
"Your bird's getting jealous!" Asad shouted.
Reluctantly, Anahita set her feet on the lakebed and turned to see what the fuss was about.
"Frog! Frog!" Merlin screeched, flapping her wings.
"Set her free," Anahita commanded, striding out of the water. She looked at her discarded clothes for a moment, before deciding she wanted fresh things. She rummaged through her bags, seeking something practical among the finery. By the time she'd dug out a suitable tunic, the warm desert wind had dried her skin, so it was a simple matter to slip the garment over her head.
When she turned around, she found Haidar's eyes fixed on her, though he had a faraway look on his face.
"What is it?" she asked softly, keeping her voice low so that Asad would not hear.
Haidar shook his head, and seemed to see her again. "Forgive me, but you reminded me of…happier times."
Times spent with his wife, Nasrin, she knew. "If I could return her to your arms, and make you whole again, I would. You know that."
Haidar sighed deeply. "I know. As would I. But sometimes I wonder if I am a fool for not – "
A
n unearthly shriek split the air as Merlin erupted from the oasis, beating her wings frantically. She flew erratically, lurching from one side to another, as though she'd drunk too much wine.
"Merlin, come here!" she called. The bird moved toward her, still flying clumsily, and Anahita kept talking, reassuring the bird until Merlin flopped in a heap at Anahita's feet.
Forgetting everything but the bird before her, Anahita knelt down. There was something strange stuck to the bird's face. She reached out to free Merlin.
Fifteen
Something warm gently tugged at his hand, unfastening it from his death grip around the bird's neck feathers. He struggled to keep his legs wrapped around that deadly beak, but that slid out of his grasp, too, as he was surrounded by something warm and soft. It almost reminded him of that night two of his concubines had agreed to share him, and his bed had become a paradise of perfumed, female flesh…
The annoyed chittering of a bird – the same one who'd tried to eat him? – dragged Philemon out of his delightful daydream. His harem was no more. He sighed.
"You're a strange one, aren't you?" a female voice purred. "I've never heard a frog sigh before. And Merlin tells me they don't usually scream until her master cuts their legs off."
"Then Merlin is a barbarian," Philemon declared.
She sounded amused. "Merlin is a bird. The bird whose face you sat on while you were screaming. Apparently her prey is usually more resigned to their fate. And less inclined to call her names. What sort of frog are you?"
Philemon blew out an exasperated breath and dared to open his eyes, only to find another pair, inches from his own. They were the colour of a desert oasis, wavering between blue and green like water reflecting the sky and the fringing palm trees. But perfectly calm and still, as though it didn't bother her in the slightest that she held a frog in her cupped hands – both hands, for they were not large – as she conversed with him.
The bird's barbarian mistress, Philemon decided, for she wore no veil over her dark hair, and her face was bare for all to see.
"I am not a frog at all, but a prince, under a terrible curse," he announced.
The girl chuckled, a deeper sound than he'd expected from such a small woman. "And did the curse also turn your vast kingdom into that tiny oasis? Are your people swimming about as fish in that water?"
Philemon cast her a scornful glance. "Of course not. That's a story for children, which my mother told me when I was a boy. I am Prince Philemon of Tasnim, a ruler in my own right, and one of the richest men in the region, if not the world." When she seemed unable to reply (too humbled by his high stature, he supposed), Philemon graciously added, "You may address me as Your Highness."
Those blue-green eyes danced. "I don't think I will, Philemon the frog. But my sisters call me Anahita, or simply Ana, and you may, too."
Definitely a barbarian, who had no respect for rank. Philemon sniffed. "You must take me to find the cruel enchantress who cast this terrible curse. When she sees the error of her ways and lifts the curse, you will see me in my true glory, and apologise for your disrespect, for which I will forgive you."
She nodded gravely. "A kind offer, I'm sure, but one I won't accept. I have a wedding to attend, Philemon, and unless your enchantress intends to be one of the wedding guests, you won't find her with me. I will just have to live without your forgiveness." She set him down on the sand and started to walk away.
"Wait!" The word was out of his mouth before Philemon could stop it. She was the first person he'd seen since leaving Tasnim – no one came to this oasis, and if she didn't help him, he might be stuck here for the rest of his life. How long did frogs live for, anyway? Not long, with birds like that monster Merlin around. "You must help me."
She stopped. "Why, Philemon the frog? Why must I help you?"
He hopped across the burning sand, hissing, before he reached the hem of her robe. He hesitated for only a moment before hopping onto the toe of her shoe. The relief was immediate – no more burning sand under his backside. "Because I'll die out here if you don't. I cannot leave the oasis, for I would not last long on the desert sands." He swallowed, forcing the words out. "Please take me with you."
She cupped him in her hands, lifting him so that they saw eye to eye once more.
"So you have some courtesy, after all. If you wish me to carry you across the desert, you must pay for your passage, Philemon the frog. What can you offer that might be of value to me?"
"A chest of gold from the treasury in Tasnim," he answered instantly. "Enough gold to last you a lifetime."
The girl shook her head. "There is no gold here, Philemon the frog. This is not Tasnim, and I will not take you there. For an empty promise, I will take you nowhere."
He opened his mouth to protest that it was not an empty promise at all, before he remembered that he might never make it to Tasnim without her help. He swallowed. "Very well. I will be an amusing travel companion, to make your journey easier and more comfortable, and when I reach Tasnim, I will see that you get your gold." Her hands around him felt like pure bliss compared to the baking desert. "If you carry me with you to wherever you are going, I will give you whatever is in my power to grant you."
She gave a low whistle. "Gold, a helpful travel companion, and a boon. You offer a great deal for someone so small. It seems almost too good to be true." She turned. "What do you think, Merlin?"
Philemon glimpsed the bird, a fiery-eyed hawk, on the ground behind him and flattened himself against Anahita's hands so that the bird wouldn't see him.
The bird let out a shrill chirp.
Anahita laughed. "Merlin thinks frogs are only good for eating. Her previous master was fond of the legs, grilled over a fire, and he gave her the rest."
Philemon shivered. What sort of barbarian ate frogs?
"But I prefer duck," Anahita continued, "and while I already have all the travel companions I need, one who has new tales to tell would be a welcome distraction. Do you know any amusing tales, Philemon the frog?"
He had to think about that one. "My concubines often complimented me on my wit, the quality of my conversation, and the cleverness of my tales," he said finally. They'd also complimented him on his prowess in the bedchamber, but he didn't think this girl was looking for a lover.
Her oasis eyes turned cold. "Concubines. My, you must have been a mighty prince indeed, ruling over such a harem. I cannot imagine why an enchantress would choose to curse you."
"Nor I," he said softly, daring to hope.
She sighed. "Fine, I shall help you. But if you prove to be a nuisance, I will feed you to Merlin."
He swallowed, knowing he would regret this. "Then we have an accord."
Sixteen
"Philemon, I have a proposition for you," the girl called. What had her name been? Oh, that's right – Anahita. No title, no family name, just…Anahita. He should remember that, in case he ever caught himself thinking about her bathing naked in his oasis again. It had been a long time since he'd seen a woman, let alone a naked one, and her form was pleasing enough to catch the eye of a man starved for female company.
Not her face, though. Now he'd seen it up close, he thought her plainer than ever. Her nose was crooked, as though it had been broken. Perhaps barbarian girls fought like boys did. And those strange eyes…like one of the crusaders from the north. She was probably the spawn of some crusader and a girl he stole from her family. That she lived meant her mother had lived long enough afterwards to bear the child – probably as a common whore.
How low he had fallen. A prince, deigning to listen to a proposition from some whore's bastard daughter.
Philemon lifted his head from the water, just enough so that she could see his eyes. "Do you now?"
She smiled. It improved her looks, at least a little.
"You did say you would make my journey more comfortable, did you not?"
Philemon let out a noise that sounded alarmingly like a croak.
She appeared to take this as asse
nt. "You may start by making yourself useful tonight. This lovely oasis of yours is home to a great number of mosquitoes, which have taken up residence in my tent. Given your natural talents with flying things, you shall sit at the end of my bed and keep them from bothering me as I sleep."
It was an order, not a request, and as such, it rankled. But they did have a deal, and, besides, he had to admit he was hungry. He'd give a whole bag of gold for a well-spiced roast lamb, but his accursed body demanded a different form of sustenance.
He raised his head higher, lifting his chin in what he hoped looked like lofty condescension. "Carry me to your bedchamber, and I shall protect you in a true princely fashion."
She burst out laughing.
Philemon glared. "What is so funny?"
She took her time getting control of herself before she finally said, "You really shouldn't do that. It only draws attention to that bulging thing under your chin. On a man, it would be a prominent Adam's apple, but on a frog, it's…a vocal sac of some sort. Terribly distracting, especially when you're talking. I'm too worried it will pop like a soap bubble to listen to a word you say."
Philemon tucked his chin down firmly. "I said carry me to your bed, and I shall protect you in a true princely fashion."
She still smiled, but at least she didn't laugh. "Well, you should know you'll be the first prince to ever protect me in any fashion." She scooped him up and carried him toward her tent.
Philemon had to force himself to hold his tongue. Of course she'd never been protected by a prince before. She'd probably never even met one. But barbarian or not, he had a deal with this girl, and he would honour it, for a prince's honour was a weighty thing indeed.
"I will need a bucket of water, if you wish me to stay in your tent all night. I cannot be allowed to dry out, so I must immerse myself periodically," he said as the tent flaps closed behind her.
Kiss- Frog Prince Retold Page 5