He marched in, calling for quiet.
Philemon had to hide a smile when Tariq's voice rose to a roar, drowning out all other sound: "Bow before His Royal Highness, Prince Philemon of Tasnim!"
No bowing happened, but Philemon did get stunned silence. It was enough.
He explained the things he'd told Tariq, and how he would be returning home as soon as possible.
"And what about our wives?" one man shouted. "Are you taking them, too?" Half a dozen others took up the same cry.
Philemon sighed inwardly. He had no desire to lead any part of a desert tribe – or steal its women. "The only woman who will leave with me is the Sultan's daughter, Princess Anahita."
A collective sigh of relief went up from the assembled men.
"Where is she?" a familiar voice demanded.
Philemon scanned the crowd and found them at the back – Anahita's men. They did not look relieved.
"In the women's tent, I believe, seeing to our midday meal," Philemon said airily, as if it mattered little to him. Ha. His thoughts were with her every moment they were apart, though he knew she was in no danger with a pack of cowed women.
"She'd better not be cooking it herself, or she'll poison us all. I've seen the princess burn water," the man – Asad? – shouted back.
Nervous laughter erupted around him.
Philemon cast his mind back. All those nights he'd travelled with them…had Anahita ever cooked anything? He couldn't recall her preparing any food, except occasionally skinning whatever that devilish bird of hers caught. He should have noticed her skill with a blade before. Too late now.
Philemon mumbled something about making sure, and out of the tent toward the one where the women resided.
A boy stood at the door. A guard, perhaps? His eyes widened when he saw Philemon, and his mouth dropped open, no sound coming out.
Philemon nodded and stepped into the dimly lit space.
"The new Sheikh! The new Sheikh is here!" The boy had regained the use of his voice.
Philemon held up his hands in surrender. He knew better than to invade the domain of women without explaining himself first. "I seek Princess Anahita."
"You could have waited until I'd finished bathing, and I'd had something to break my fast," she grumbled as her head emerged from a tunic as heavily embroidered as the last two she'd worn. "After last night, I'm sure you don't need me again already."
He couldn't help it. Just the sight of her brought a smile to his lips. How had he ever lived without her? "I will always need you."
She narrowed her eyes. "And what about all your concubines, hmm?"
"I have none, and never will again. The only woman I will ever need now is you." Philemon wet his lips. "I will see you crowned as the Princess of Tasnim, if you wish it."
Anahita spread her arms wide. "And what of the other women here? Basit made them all his concubines. They were wives, daughters, all stolen from their families. What will you do with them, Sheikh?" She spat the title like the worst epithet.
Philemon shook his head. "I am no sheikh. I am Prince Philemon of Tasnim, and I declare you are free to return to your families as honourable widows, with all that entails. Any man who says otherwise will answer to me."
Only now did he realise all eyes were upon him. "I told the guards this last night. Didn't they pass the message on?"
Anahita's fingers laced through his. "I said the same thing, but no one believed me. See? I told you he is not a monster." She stared up at him, and for a moment he thought she would kiss him. Then her gaze darted down. "Except when he keeps me too busy for breakfast. I'm sure there is a law against denying a new bride her breakfast!"
A woman Philemon didn't know laid a hand on Anahita's shoulder. "Take the prince to one of the common tents. Congratulations to you both. I will bring a wedding breakfast for you."
Thirty-Seven
In between bites of food and congratulations from what seemed like every man and woman in the camp at becoming their new sheikh, Anahita tried to ask him how he'd managed to break the curse. Philemon heard the question, she was certain of it, but he was too busy thanking someone to answer it right away.
And then another interruption, and another, until she wanted to scream, if her throat still wasn't raw from last night.
Finally, the tide of humanity seemed to decide to give them a moment alone.
"How did you break the curse?" she demanded.
He shrugged. "I wish I knew. Perhaps it was you. I do not remember the witch's exact words when she first cursed me, but she definitely mentioned a princess's bed, and something about dusk or maybe dawn. If we find her, perhaps we can ask her. But in the meantime, I mean to enjoy being a man again. A man who will travel home with you, as soon as possible, if your word still holds true."
"It does," she said, stung. "But why do you need to travel with us now? As the Prince of Tasnim, and the sheikh of this place, surely you can command your people to come with you, or take you wherever you wish."
He leaned close so his breath tickled her ear. "I promised to take you to Tasnim, my home, and prove that I am its prince. The witch didn't just curse me – when she came, the water supply dried up, too. I must see it restored, even if it means hunting her down."
"I will help you," she said. Because if she could go to Tasnim…she could finally be free.
Philemon took her hand in his and kissed it. "And I will be grateful for any further assistance you wish to offer, Princess. For after seeing you break one curse, I have no doubt you will save my city as you have me."
Anahita wasn't sure about that, but another group of people came up to offer their congratulations, so she held her tongue.
Thirty-Eight
Philemon would have given everything he owned to bypass the oasis without having to look at the accursed place, but his travel companions were having none of it. Besides, with the wells of Tasnim still dry, they would need to replenish their water supplies.
He busied himself helping the other men unload the camels and set up camp. A task for servants, but Anahita had made it clear there were no servants or masters in this travelling party. A peculiar princess indeed.
She stood at the water's edge, wearing a pair of flimsy sandals and a short tunic. They might have been the same ones she'd worn the day they met. Then, she'd taken him in her hands, lifting him out of despondency and saving him from certain death. An irresistible desire rose up within him, to take her in his arms and never let her go.
His feet carried him across the sand of their own accord, and she yielded to his embrace as she yielded to no one else. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, tasting the salt of sweat she'd said she wanted to wash off.
"Why do you hesitate?" he asked. Even he felt the pull of the cool water, which held no dread for him when he was with her. Anahita had broken the curse once – he was in no danger of being cursed again while he had her.
"The water is not as clear as before, and the level has risen." She pointed. "Those baby date palms were well away from the edge before, but now they are submerged. Merlin insists there are frogs here, too, where there were none but you last time we were here. And now the water is warm, which it wasn't the first time." She shook her head. "I don't know what that means."
He helped her out of her tunic, and hurried to remove his own clothes. "Then we should wash, and wait for your bird to catch a frog. Perhaps you can question the creature."
Anahita smiled. "I have enough cursed princes to last me a lifetime. And I have no intention of sharing my bed with any man but you."
He kissed her. "Good."
They took their time in the water, for washing soon led to other things, which meant more washing, before they emerged. Moonrise in the twilight sky shimmered across Anahita's damp skin, before she slipped on a robe to cover herself.
"Dinner's ready!" Asad called.
Philemon hurried to don his own clothes, before heading to the fire, where the other three had already taken their
seats.
"There must have been some rain in the mountains. We'll have to watch out for the rivers, and be careful crossing them," Asad said.
Philemon laughed. "How can you possibly know that? I haven't seen a single cloud in the sky!"
"The water here. It's been muddied by floodwaters, which only come when a deluge washes things down from the mountains. And the frogs, of course. That silly bird ate so many, she's too fat to fly any more." Asad pointed at Anahita's falcon, who did look rounder than usual. He snorted. "I hope none of them were your brothers, Philemon. She ate them while you two were taking your time in the water, and I don't speak frog."
Anahita's blush was barely visible in the firelight, but there was no hiding it from Philemon, or the other men who knew her so well. "None of them spoke. Not like Philemon when Merlin caught him. They were ordinary frogs. Proper frogs, according to Merlin." She rose and headed over to the bird.
Haidar tipped the dregs of his cup out onto the sand, then poured himself another drink. "You may please her now, enough for her to accept you as her husband, but one wrong step and there are plenty of places where a body can be buried in the sand and never seen again. Don't forget that, Frog Prince."
For a moment, Philemon wondered what it would be like to fight the man. A fair fight in the training ring, of course. Haidar was a better fighter than Anahita, and he had size and strength on his side, too, but it would be a fine fight, while it lasted. One Anahita would never allow, he was certain of it.
Philemon lifted his cup in acknowledgement. "And should I die in the desert at the point of the princess's blade, I thank you for the courtesy of a proper burial. For we both know you wouldn't deny her the pleasure of cutting out my heart, if that is her desire."
Asad exploded into laughter. "It's your manhood she'll cut off, and you'll live just long enough to watch it burn. Falling in love with her is foolishness."
Haidar threw his cup down on the sand and stalked away, muttering to himself.
"Should you go after him?" Philemon asked.
Asad snorted. "No. You're both as foolish as each other, and he knows it. But that doesn't alter the fact that he'll enjoy watching you die if you've lied to the princess about being a prince, or Tasnim. The one thing he loves almost as much as the girl herself is defending her honour. So if any part of your story isn't true, now's the time to disappear. Just take care at the river crossings, or your body will be swept away as easily as the princess has swept away your senses."
"I have lied about nothing," Philemon declared. "Which is more than I can say about you. Who ever heard of storms in a clear sky? Where is all the water you say will cause a flood?"
Asad grinned, his eyes glittering in the firelight. "Not all the water in the desert is where we can see it. Deep beneath the surface, there are underground rivers and lakes. The same sort that lies beneath Tasnim, and provides it with so much of its water. It bubbles up in wadis and springs like this one, but this is a mere puddle compared to what lies below. And with so much more water here…it'll be a wonder if your cave city isn't completely flooded."
Philemon's heart constricted in his chest. "Tasnim has never flooded. Never. The water is gone. It cannot flood!" For if the treasure chambers on the lowest levels flooded, he would be penniless. The Sultan would not let him marry Anahita then. He swallowed. "I will show you on the morrow. My city has survived for a thousand years, and it will survive a thousand more."
Asad's smile didn't fade as he turned to stare into the fire. "We shall see, Frog Prince. For a man who didn't know about the rivers beneath the desert a moment ago, you'll forgive me if I don't believe your expert assessment of them now."
Thirty-Nine
Philemon's frantic lovemaking last night spoke of some emotional disquiet he refused to tell her. Fear had his eyes darting everywhere, above a mouth that couldn't seem to smile, as they approached his home.
It was a strange transformation. All the way to Basit's camp, he'd entertained Anahita with tales of the beauties of Tasnim, but now he seemed terrified to show them to her.
Determined to solve this mystery before she arrived, Anahita urged her camel to match Philemon's pace. Her happy travel companion was now too busy scowling at the horizon to notice her.
"Tell me about your last day in Tasnim," she said.
He glanced up for only a moment before the horizon drew his gaze once more. "Is that an order?"
"We made a deal. You amuse me while we travel, and I take you home. Well, I don't find your silence amusing. I find it…alarming. And I want to know what I'm walking into. Sometimes knives are not enough. Especially if there is an enchantress who turns innocent princes into frogs." Anahita managed a smile. "I'm hardly innocent."
"She will not touch you. If she even attempts to cast a spell in your direction, I shall – " Philemon stopped, then continued, "I shall stand in her way, and force her to curse me instead. In the meantime, your men will use her distraction to…deal with her."
"And then I will have to break the curse again, though I don't know how I did it the first time? You place great faith in me. Faith I don't share. Tell me what happened. What are we walking into that has you so scared?" Anahita pressed.
Philemon sighed deeply and buried his head in his hands. "There is nothing in Tasnim that will harm you. Not even her. I am not innocent, either. I fear…I fear I may have deserved the curse, and if there is anyone in Tasnim, they will blame me for the fall of the city, too."
Anahita persisted. "But you can't possibly be responsible for the wells running dry. It would take a powerful curse, or spell or…"
"It was a wish, granted by a particularly powerful djinn, actually. A careless wish that once granted, could not be undone." Now Philemon refused to meet her eyes at all.
But Anahita would not be diverted from her course. "What did you wish for?"
He let out a harsh laugh. "What does any man wish for in the desert? An oasis, where he might drink and refresh himself." When Anahita didn't respond, he went on: "The oasis where you found me, actually. A place where you could not resist bathing, either."
And the tale came spilling out, at first in spurts and starts, before finally it gushed out of Philemon, a flow of words that could not be stopped.
A djinn who obeyed orders without question, creating an oasis for his master without caring about the consequences.
A city slowly starved of water until the wells ran dry.
A prince who demanded the oh-so-powerful djinn fix the problem, only to be told it required more power than the djinn possessed to refill the underwater reservoir.
A call for help, the help of a powerful enchantress who did have the power to compel the djinn to obey.
An enchantress who imprisoned the djinn, but who could not return the water to his home.
A fool of a prince who threw the enchantress out of the city, unthanked and unpaid, for she had not restored his city's water supply.
A city of people, trying to leave, and an enraged enchantress who could not be kept out.
An enchantress who cast him into a well, then led the evacuation herself, saving his people.
A fool of a prince, turned frog, hopping from puddle to puddle as he chased what remained of his city's water supply…all the way down to the new oasis, where he finally understood: no magic in the world was powerful enough to make water run uphill. Or to change the past.
"But it's not your fault," Anahita said slowly.
"It is," Philemon insisted. "I made that foolish wish, and I am the city's prince. The responsibility is mine. I know that now."
"But the djinn. He should have said something…"
Philemon shook his head. "You don't know djinn. They are slaves, bound by magic to obey their masters, without question. The only time they can refuse is if they are not powerful enough to grant their master's wish. Something I realised too late. I made the wish, so the responsibility for it is mine. Tasnim was a city of wonders, and she died of thirst in the desert
because of me."
"Then what are you afraid of?" Anahita still didn't understand.
Philemon reached out and grabbed her hand. Her startled eyes met his – and an intensity she could not look away from.
"Have you ever killed a man who didn't deserve it?" he demanded.
"Of course not. All of them were bastards. Men who killed innocent men and women, not caring who they destroyed as they pursued their desires. They deserved far worse than I gave them, I promise you." Anahita tried to pull her hand back, but he held it fast.
"What do you think I did to Tasnim? I destroyed a city to grant the most insignificant desire. How am I any better than the rest of them? You should have killed me then, but you'll definitely do it when you see the ghost my beautiful city has become."
He released her and urged his camel into a gallop, putting space between them Anahita had no way to close.
It was for the best. Few people had seen Anahita cry, and if the desert drank her tears, no one would ever know how her heart wept for Philemon and all he had lost.
Because he was wrong. He was nothing like Fakhri or Basit or any of the others. None of them had ever showed a moment of remorse for their actions, or even regret.
And as the tears dried on her cheeks in the searing desert heat, she made a new vow. Men might die, but a city's life was in her people. If she could help Philemon return Tasnim to its former glory, then she would do everything in her power to make that happen. Because to turn Philemon the frog into the true prince he deserved to be, he needed his domain back. His home.
Forty
Philemon touched the stone that marked the gates of Tasnim. Twenty men could not move it, but when he laid his hand on it, it rolled aside as though it weighed nothing. Part of the enchantments the door guardian had laid on the place, in the centuries he had watched over the city.
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