Knowing that Armin loved her back as fervently made matters worse. The beautiful young man furrowed his brow and glanced from Freida to Alec. Her head spun at being the object of such desire. It was clear her One True Love was assessing her beauty and finding his brother unworthy of Freida’s attentions.
“I—I,” she could barely gasp out the words. “Need some air.”
Father winked and nudged Alec, who gave him a polite smile back. In a daze, Freida took Alec’s arm, and he walked her through the wide hallways, not listening to a word the ugly brother was blabbering on about.
Servants opened a set of French doors, and Freida sucked in some revitalizing, cold air. With her head clearer, Freida could finally focus on Alec’s words. “…And I’m keen to go back, you see. I’m not sure if there’s a delicate way of putting it.”
She stared into his plain face. “What?”
Prince Alec bowed his head. His pasty scalp was visible through his thinning hair. “There’s a girl, you see…I’ve fallen in love with her.”
Outrage heated her cheeks. How dare this dull-looking man discard her! She was about to tell him what she thought of his infidelity, when he added, “I’ll marry you, of course. But I thought you should know my heart belongs to another. You’re free to pursue your own love interests, as long as you’re discreet.”
Freida pressed her lips together to stop a grin from spreading over her face. She took his arm, and they strolled through the manicured gardens, which paled compared to those of her own palace. She knew exactly who she would take as a paramour, and she couldn’t wait to be in the younger brother’s arms.
After their promenade, Alec walked Freida back to the throne room. Father was playing chess against King Clement. The delicious-looking younger brother, whose name she discovered was Armin, chatted with his mother. She examined Queen Rhodopis’ beautiful brown skin and soft features. Armin had gotten his good looks from her, and the more masculine features, such as his strong jaw and physique, must have come from King Clement.
She glanced at her betrothed, who offered her a kind smile and wink. A spring of hope burst in her delicate chest. Her future husband had given his blessing for her to pursue a relationship with his much more attractive and worthier brother. She mouthed the words, ‘thank you,’ and he furrowed his brow into a perplexed frown. The man was likely baffled that she would be grateful for his blessing, especially since he had a secret liaison of his own.
When she said goodbye to the Royal Family of Clement, the Queen gave her a hug, engulfing her in a cloud of bergamot, and Armin inclined his head at her.
She rode through the carriage, her memories filled with the hug she’d received from Charming Armin while the Queen had nodded in approval. This was the happiest day of her life, and she couldn’t wait to marry Alec and start her torrid affair with Armin!
Over the next few days, Freida had little use for Momo’s services as whipping girl. She spent her entire days penning passionate letters to Armin.
My One True Love,
It has been four days since we met, and my heart longs for your presence. I apologize for not writing sooner, as Father insists I take lessons, which impede our correspondence.
Did you get the letters I sent you yesterday?
Today, I drew a picture of you. Do you like it? I think it’s better than the three I did earlier today.
Yours, in heat,
Freida
Princess of Vern
Light of your life
She ignored Postie’s disapproving frowns and forced the lazy lout to send her missive on the fastest horse to Metropole. Her heated correspondence would keep the lonely young man company while he pined for her.
“He will love this letter,” she murmured.
Momo scuttled alongside Freida. “He didn’t reply to all them others you sent, Your Highness.”
Freida turned her gaze on the cowering little mouse. “Of course he wouldn’t,” she spat. “Don’t you realize? Men like Charming Armin keep their passion all pent-up. He’s saving himself for the day we meet in person. My letters are fanning the flames of his ardor.”
“Oh.” The little wretch sounded unconvinced.
Freida scowled. “What would a minion betrothed to a swineherd know about love?”
Momo’s back stiffened, but she held her silence.
Freida tilted her head to the side. “You want to say something. What?”
Peeking under her stubby lashes, Momo said, “Me and Tamworth have done it, you know.”
Her jaw dropped, and a hurricane of anger swept through her insides. How dare this dowdy domestic enjoy passions of the flesh before Freida? She schooled her expression into an indifferent mask. “Oh? Tell me, is your swineherd as handsome as Prince Armin?”
Momo shrugged. “Probably not, but I know one thing for sure. My Tamworth actually notices me.”
Freida sucked in a breath. Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. She would not cry. That was exactly what Momo wanted. To see her humbled. She bared her teeth, and with her gaze fixed on the other girl’s, she reached for the bust of Great-grandfather May and shoved it to the ground.
Momo shrieked, holding her hands to her face, and Freida straightened and strolled to Father’s office to confess to her latest misdeed. k`1`2
A week later, Father shook Freida awake in the middle of the night. She yawned and rolled over. “Later.”
A hand clamped over her arm and pulled her out of bed. She slouched, giving Father a hateful glare, but in the dark, he barely noticed.
“It’s your betrothed.” His voice was urgent.
A jolt of worry hit her insides. Armin! “What happened?”
Father booted Momo in the stomach, and the girl moaned. “Get dressed. Both of you. We must leave for Metropole. Prince Alec has been cursed into a frog, and only the kiss of true love will restore him.”
Freida rubbed her eyes. “But I don’t love him.”
He stopped at the door and glared over his shoulder. The lantern light made his skin glow orange, like how she’d imagined an ogre from the Enchanted Realm. “I’ve seen those passionate love letters you send every day to Metropole. Meet me in the carriage in ten minutes.”
She wanted to correct him and tell them they had been missives for her One True Love, but the glower in his eyes made her think again.
The journey to Metropole was faster than the previous. The procession rode in two mail coaches, which were the fastest method of long-distance group travel. Freida wrung her hands, thinking about her poor Armin. He would be devastated that his brother had been turned into a frog and eager for a shoulder to cry on. Which would she offer, her left or right? Or her bosom? A flush heated her cheeks, and she placed her delicate fingertips on her rosebud lips.
Father gave her an approving nod. “That’s it, girl. Get ready to kiss that frog, because the future of all Seven Kingdoms relies on your lips.”
A smile spread across her face, and she pictured herself the victorious heroine who saved a nation from the tyranny of witchcraft. An epic beauty whose kiss was enough to restore a man to humanity.
Then she slumped. She wasn’t Alec’s true love. The man had a secret paramour somewhere. She could tell the King and Queen this. They could find the girl, get her to kiss the frog, and her betrothal would be transferred to Armin, and they’d live happily ever af—
An idea gripped her by the heart and squeezed so hard, she gasped.
“Anything wrong, Free-Free?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head, not wanting the brilliant idea to escape. What if she kept quiet about Alec’s secret lover? He’d remain a frog, Armin would become Crown Prince, and the betrothal contract would be transferred to Armin.
A grin spread across her face, and she ducked her head, so Father wouldn’t see it. Her cunning plan would work, and she’d rule the United Kingdom of Seven with her One True Love.
They reached the palace gates, and Wilfred, the classy se
rvant, gave them a perfunctory bow. “Oh, thank the Seven Kingdoms you’ve arrived! Please, you must hurry.” He sped up the marble stairs, through the wooden double doors, down the hallway and out into the gardens.
By now, dawn was breaking across the sky. Unlike Vern, which was bordered in the West by the Schneeberg mountains, Clement had no elevations. The only exceptions were the hills on which Metropole and the Academy sat. As such, Freida was treated to a vista of lemon chiffon peering over the horizon, blending into mauve against the indigo sky.
Her feet crunched over a gravel path, past a beautiful, white gazebo, toward a crowd of people standing by a pond. King Clement had his arm around Queen Rhodopis’ shoulders, who pressed a handkerchief to her face. Armin stood at her side with his hand over the small of her back.
Freida scowled at the Queen. Nobody should touch Armin but her!
“She’s here,” he murmured.
Freida’s heart beat faster. He had noticed her!
Her One True Love bent toward the pond and scooped something into his hands. It was a fat, green frog with horizontal stripes on its back. It reminded Freida of Alec’s thinning hair, and she was about to say so, when Armin thrust the frog in her face. “Kiss him.”
Freida wrinkled her nose. “No.”
King Clement’s eyes blazed, and Queen Rhodopis burst into more rounds of sobs. For the upper echelons of royalty, they certainly had forgotten their decorum.
Armin’s hands lowered a fraction. He stared at Freida with such intense passion, as though the frog he held was the only thing stopping him from ravishing her on the spot. The man’s nostrils flared, and Freida flushed. He was obviously breathing hard to calm his ardor. “Why not?”
She wanted to say that it was him she loved, and she was acting in the interest of their happy future together, but she stilled her tongue. Father gripped her arm like giant pincers. “We talked about this, Freida. Pucker up and kiss the frog.”
She shook her head. “It is impossible, Father. I cannot.”
Both Kings shouted at her, and Queen Rhodopis wailed. Armin placed the frog back into the pond and stormed away, his fists clenching and unclenching.
A warm flush of happiness rose in her chest, and she wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed. When everyone calmed down, they would renegotiate the betrothal contracts. Then, Armin would no longer need to suffer without her passionate presence. She would demand an immediate wedding, so they could consummate their love before it burned them to cinders.
The Queen kissed the frog on its slimy mouth, and she and the King walked arm-in-arm to a parlor. Father trudged behind them, pulling Freida by the arm, which by now had already lost all circulation. They went back to the throne room, but the Queen didn’t join them, instead splintering off with an old man who patted her hand.
A dour-faced man who wore round spectacles spoke first. “King April, your daughter’s refusal to kiss Prince Alec invalidates the betrothal contract.”
A smile flickered on Freida’s lips, but she puckered her face to look at least a little less elated at events. In any minute, the advisor would offer up Armin, and he would be hers.
“What does that mean?” spat Father.
“King Clement is not obliged to return the dowry.”
Father gestured at the door. “But your youngest isn’t betrothed. We’ll take him.”
“Eeep!” she clapped her hands over her mouth.
King Clement banged his fist on the arm of the throne. “Absolutely not! If she doesn’t kiss Alec, she can go back to Vern.”
Freida trudged out of the throne room, her head bowed, disappointment dragging her feet. Her heart felt like it would shrivel into a kernel of despair, leaving an empty cavity in its wake. How had things gone so wrong? She’d thought out the entire plan, even picturing the penitent King Clement offering up Armin in compensation for having a damaged elder son.
Father breathed as hard as a rampaging bull, and every snort made her cringe. This was how he acted when anger stole his words. One time, she’d seen him strangle an advisor for something he’d said, and the man lay on the ground a broken, twitching wreck.
They stepped outside. The morning sun lit the limestone floors, making them shine like burnished copper. The mail coaches seemed so drab in comparison.
“Bring Momo, and ride with the servants,” he said through clenched teeth.
Freida waved at the servants huddled around the second carriage, and she indicated for Momo to sit in the front with Father. The girl’s ugly mouth flapped open, and she froze for several seconds. Freida huffed and shook her head. Nobody would understand the burden of having recalcitrant servants. Life as a Princess was tough.
She stomped over to the servants’ carriage and grabbed a whimpering Momo by the arm and dragged her to the front vehicle. Father already sat inside and left the door open for her.
“Please, Your Highness,” she squeaked.
“Come along! I expect Father wants to get home.” Freida pushed Momo to the entrance of the carriage, and Father’s arm shot out. He grabbed Momo by the back of the neck and hauled her inside. Freida walked back to the servants’ carriage, wiping her hands. When she glanced up, she caught their wide-eyed gazes. “What?”
The servants all looked away and allowed her to board. Freida sat in the corner of the speeding carriage, admiring the scenery, and ignoring Momo’s attention-seeking cries.
The next morning, Freida got out of bed, and there was no lump on her rug to kick. And she had to call a passing servant to draw her bath and get her dressed. Momo had a lot to answer for, and Freida would make her suffer from whatever hiding place she’d dug herself into.
She entered the dining room, only to be greeted by a stench of rot and body odor and excrement strong enough to make her eyes water. It was that malodorous moneylender again, looking even filthier than before. From her vantage point of the door, she could discern the trails of snot encrusted to his beard.
Her lip curled and she stepped back. After seeing and smelling that vagabond, she had no inclination for food.
“Freida.” Father’s stern voice stilled her movements. “I owe Don Giovanni De La Fortuna a hundred thousand gold crowns for your betrothal.”
Freida’s eyes widened. Father had never involved her in matters of the treasury.
“He has kindly offered to take you in exchange for payment.”
“Momo,” she blurted. The two of them would make a suitable couple.
Don Giovanni turned his murky green eyes on Freida. Sand and slime stuck to his long lashes. Disgust wriggled through her innards like a frantic eel, and she shuddered. “I will accept none but the Princess.”
“And you shall have her,” said Father. “Now, get out of my sight and pick a wedding dress.”
Freida stomped across the hallways, startling servants. She searched every room for Momo, but could not find her. Doctor Twigg’s doors were locked. A maid told her he was busy with a medical emergency, so she continued to her room to see if the lazy lump lay pretending to be passed out in the bath again.
She was not, and Freida spent the day kicking the royal hounds and cats, which wasn’t quite as satisfying, as the dogs had a tendency to snap back, and cats ran too fast.
The next morning, another girl came in to draw her bath. She had the same gormless look as Momo, but not nearly as cowed. “Where’s Momo?”
The girl tilted her head to the side and stared at Freida for a long time. Her chest rose and fell, and her nostrils flared.
A frisson of fear prickled the skin on the back of Freida’s neck. This new girl seemed deranged and ready to strike. The servant pulled back her lip. “My sister got injured on the way back from Metropole. Fancy that?”
Freida shrugged. “Momo’s the clumsy sort. I expect she tripped over something again.”
The girl closed her eyes with a non-committal hum and turned her back on Freida. Her blood boiled. How dare this uppity servant treat her without the reverence she deserved?
She was the Princess and that other woman was the sister of a slob betrothed to a swineherd. Freida stepped into the other chamber and climbed into the bath. It was stone cold and half-melted ice blocks floated the water’s surface. She refrained from complaining, as she thought Momo’s sister might enjoy that.
After a most unsatisfying bath, Freida stood on the podium, while the girl adjusted the wedding dress. Pins grazed her skin, and the girl stared up at Freida with malice. It was an obvious attempt to rile her, and Freida would not give her the satisfaction. Instead, she raised her chin, threw her shoulders back and showed Momo’s sister how a true Princess should act.
However, when a needle pierced Freida’s skin, she lashed out and slapped at the young woman, only to have her duck out of the way. “Finished, Highness.”
“Leave, then,” she said through clenched teeth. This mess was all Momo’s fault. If the oaf hadn’t been so clumsy as to injure herself, Momo would be marrying the human cesspool instead of Freida.
She opened her bedroom door to meet Father’s glower. Resisting the urge to push a non-existent Momo forward to face his wrath, she swallowed. Father held out his elbow, and Freida took his arm. They walked in silence to the palace chapel, their footsteps echoing on the marble hallway. Even the waft of cherry blossoms from the gardens couldn’t blow away her disappointment and disgust. In less than a week, she’d lost her One True Love and saddled herself with a man who put dung collectors to shame.
Two servants, clad in white, opened the doors to the palace chapel, a vaulted room in the north wing. Only Mother and her brothers, Gregor, Gordon and Gilbert sat in front. She noticed the absence of their red-headed wives and nephews. She sighed. Who would want to expose themselves to the stench of Don Giovanni?
The other rows were taken up by local officials and a few people she recognized, such as Princess Margot of Estiv and her sister, Marigold. A hot flush suffused her cheeks. All these people would see her married to a lowlife. He was even worse looking than Hans, the hedgehog.
Beastly Bride: A Frog Prince Retelling (Perrault Chronicles) Page 2