The Green-Eyed Prince: A Retelling of The Frog Prince (The Classical Kingdoms Collection Novellas Book 1)

by Brittany Fichter

  “Would you like me to fetch your sedan, Jahira?” Ebo finally spoke when they had made it back to the other side of the tents. The looks he sent her were accusatory, and the fact that he had dared speak at all made his wrath even clearer, but Kartek didn’t bother explaining her earlier disappearance or reappearance. He would find out what had happened soon enough. They all would.

  She half expected the pale skinny man to appear out of the shadows when she reached the palace steps. But she made it up the four great steps unaccosted. Even greater was her surprise when she walked through the grand archway and wide receiving hall uninterrupted as well. Only when she had sat down to a simple supper did she allow herself to breathe. Perhaps he had forgotten. Or better yet, maybe he had been a product of her imagination. She had been so worried over the men, she told herself, that it was really quite possible she had dreamt him up.

  “Jahira?”

  Kartek looked up from where she was slumped over her bowl of rice and dates. “Yes, Oni?”

  “There is a . . . a man here to see you.”

  Her mouth was suddenly too dry to swallow. “What does he want?”

  Oni looked around before skittering up to Kartek’s side, then she glanced around once more before leaning in. “He’s saying you promised to marry him. The guards tried to send him away, but he . . . he has the signet ring.”

  Kartek put her spoon down and closed her eyes. “Go get Ahmos.”

  “Should I—”

  “Just go!”

  The girl shuffled back before breaking into a sprint.

  Kartek let her head rest on the table, ignoring the looks of concern she knew her guards and servants were sending her.

  “Is this man a threat to you, Jahira?”

  Kartek looked up. She couldn’t remember the last time Ebo had spoken on his own accord so much in one day. Or even twice in one week, for that matter. She tried to smile, but it wouldn’t come. “No, Ebo. I told him to come. But thank you.” Before she could assure him more, she was interrupted by Ahmos’s shout.

  “Everyone out! I will counsel with the jahira alone.”

  Ebo glared at the alder, but Kartek sent him a pointed look at the door. Once the room was clear and all the doors and windows were shut, Ahmos turned to Kartek. In that moment, she felt the way she had as a little girl when he’d caught her stealing dates from the kitchen. His dark eyes shone in the light of the torches that were hung on each of the dining hall’s eight walls, and he had fisted his hands and placed them on his hips.

  “I would have had his hand and tongue cut off for such falsehoods if it weren’t for the fact that Oni says he has your ring?”

  Kartek felt the edges of her eyes prick. The bite in his voice was harsher than it had ever been.

  “Well, what do you have to say?” he prodded.

  She could only force her voice to a whisper. “It’s true.”

  “What is true?”

  “That I promised to marry him.”

  For the first time in her life, Kartek saw Ahmos fall speechless.

  “I snuck out to that old well just before the caravans returned this afternoon,” she said in a rush. “I only wanted a few minutes alone. I was leaning over it and I accidentally dropped my jewel into the well.”

  She hadn’t thought it possible, but Ahmos’s eyes seemed to grow even larger.

  “I didn’t know what to do, and then this man appeared and offered to go down into the well and get it for me.”

  “You didn’t think to come back and send one of us?”

  “He said he could swim. And I believed him. And don’t tell me that anyone here knows how to swim. We live in a desert, Ahmos. This man is from the north. Or at least, I think he is. Anyway, he told me that he would get it for me if I married him.” She paused, unable to look at Ahmos anymore. “I didn’t think he would survive, but I had to try. The soldiers were arriving and I could hear their cries.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Well, it appears he did hold up his end of the bargain.” Ahmos frowned at the round pink jewel that now lay safely against her chest. “But at what price?” He looked at the ceiling and clenched his fists. “Sandstorms and snakes, Kartek. What would your parents say? Did it ever occur to you that this man might be able to swim because he could be another one of the enchantress’s tricks?”

  Kartek started a little. It was the first time anyone had called her by her first name since her parents had died. Not that it mattered now. A new dread filled her belly and threatened to push out what little she had managed to eat of the rice and dates. “I don’t want to marry him.” A hot tear rolled down her cheek.

  Ahmos’s angular face softened a little and he walked over to her side and placed a hand on her arm. “What’s done is done. Unfortunately, I cannot advise you to break your word now. Not when so many have seen the ring in his possession. It would undermine their trust in you and possibly bring down discipline from the Maker as well. After all, a promise is a promise.” He ran his free hand over his scalp. “But we will place Ebo and a few of the others wherever you desire them.”

  “I’m sorry, Ahmos.”

  He knelt down and looked her in the eyes. “On the day of your birth, I promised your parents I would not let any harm come to you.” He straightened and adjusted his kilt. Only then did Kartek see the handle of a small knife sticking out of the thin belt wrapped about his waist. “You should keep your word. But if he harms or threatens to harm you in any way, I will kill him myself.”

  Kartek shuddered. It was easy to forget that Ahmos had once been her father’s most trusted bodyguard before he had become his favorite adviser.

  He held out his hand to help her to her feet. “Perhaps I am wrong about all of this. Perhaps he will be a miracle from the Maker, sent to save us from our doom.”

  Kartek doubted that her newly betrothed would be anyone’s savior as she recalled his bony arms and legs that seemed to stick out in every direction, but Ahmos’s words bolstered her spirits enough to let her leave the dining room without crying, and the warm comfort of his arm under hers was enough to move her from the dining hall all the way to the palace’s entrance once more.

  6

  Reluctant Bride

  All of her confidence fled, however, when she reached the entrance and saw him standing beneath the white archway. He looked even more unappealing and sickly than before, his skin appearing a shade greener in the torchlight than it had in the afternoon sun. The hollows of his cheeks accentuated his gauntness, and for the first time, Kartek noticed that his legs and arms all looked too long for his body. The thought of having him wrap those arms around her made her wish she hadn’t had the chance to eat any supper at all.

  Still, she was struck once again by the brightness of his eyes, and for a brief moment, fancied she had seen them before. But no, she had never seen anyone with a body like his. Such a repulsive man, so ill prepared to survive the brutal desert, would have been memorable indeed. She briefly tried to imagine what a future child of hers with such light skin or large green eyes might look like, but the thought made her shudder. No, she would not be bearing him children any time soon. Not if she could help it.

  “Kartek.” He inclined his head.

  Kartek felt Ahmos stiffen beneath her arm. Such was the greeting of a peer. Not a commoner, or even an alder.

  “I was glad to have your ring. It seems these men will not believe me.” The stranger paused and fixed his piercing eyes on her face. “I trust you had a good reason to leave me so quickly after making our betrothal agreement.”

  “I needed to save the lives of my men.” Kartek had to unclench her teeth to speak.

  “Of course.” He nodded again. “But now that the jahira has returned from her errand, perhaps we should get on with the wedding.”

  “What? Here? Now?” Ahmos’s voice rose, but the stranger’s voice stayed smooth and irritatingly calm.

  “Yes. I’m afraid this is most urgent. And if I am n
ot mistaken, is it not tradition to allow the groom’s family to choose the time and date of the wedding?”

  “For men of rank, yes!” Ahmos cried, dropping Kartek’s arm and moving to stand between them. “But what are you to make such a demand? Who are you?”

  The thin man opened his mouth as though to speak, but nothing came out. Finally, he shook his head. “You may call me Dakarai.”

  “Of . . .”

  “Dakarai will do.”

  “Of course it will,” Ahmos muttered before turning to the servants. “Very well. Let’s get this over with. Call the holy man into the throne room. Fetch the alders and have them wait for me there as well. Tell them I will explain later.” He chased the servants out, shouting orders and barking warnings at those who tarried. Finally, Kartek was left alone with Ebo and the man.

  “I will marry you because I gave you my word,” she said, taking a step closer. “But know now that my kindness is merely dictated by my honor. I will share my meals, my bed, and a single kiss with you, but nothing more.”

  “Jahira, I need you to be—”

  “Know this as well.” She took a step closer. “I will never forgive you for what you have done to me. To my people.”

  He raised his hands, then let them fall back to his sides. Looking down at the shiny white tiles laid out in intricate patterns, he shrugged. “I only wish I could explain. But I can only help if you keep your word.”

  Kartek glowered at him. “You think I can trust you after you tricked me?”

  He blinked, as though surprised. “What trickery was there? I told you what I would do and I upheld my end of the agreement. I am only asking you to keep yours.”

  “And that is what I am doing. But expect nothing else. Not now, not ever.” With that, she whirled around and marched up to her chambers with Ebo on her heels.

  When she arrived in her rooms, they were already being filled with all sorts of flowers and oils. Her sleeping mat had been rolled out and two pillows lay at its head instead of one. The sight made her sick.

  Though she knew little about what went on between a man and a woman after marriage, aside from the necessary details about child-rearing her mother had told her on her thirteenth birthday, Kartek was suddenly blatantly aware that not even her sleeping mat would be hers anymore. By definition, she would not be hers anymore. They would be one. And while she had no desire to own any part of him, he would have every right to her.

  She scrunched her eyes shut and swallowed back a dry heave.

  “My jahira,” one of her handmaidens ran in and scurried over to her vanity, “I have been instructed to help you dress for—”

  “No thank you. I will not be prepared for my wedding.”

  The young woman stared at her blankly. “But I have a change of clothes. Something not covered in—”

  “Blood?” Kartek shook her head. “No, I will wear what I have on. This dress might not be so splattered with blood had he simply done the honorable thing and retrieved the necklace without wasting time and forcing me into wedlock in the first place.” The beautiful dress she had tried on the day before would have to wait for the next jahira. Kartek wasn’t about to mar its purity by donning it for such a farce of a union.

  Kartek could see that the handmaiden wanted very much to argue. Her lips twitched a few times, but in the end, she simply bowed and left the room.

  Oni came in as the girl left. In her hands was a large flat box that was lined with fabric. Inside the box lay all sorts of jewels and precious stones embedded in silver and gold bands, chains, and hooks. “As much as I know you wish to forgo tradition in its entirety,” she said in a quiet voice, “there are some things that simply must be done.”

  Kartek sat stiffly on the stool before her cosmetics table and mirror. “Then let us get on with it so we can be finished with the whole dratted thing.”

  Oni gently removed each piece from the box, but before she could place any of the pieces on Kartek, another woman appeared in the mirror. Kartek turned to find Alder Cantara.

  “This honor should have been your mother’s,” the older woman said in her deep voice, gently placing a thin, bony hand on one of Kartek’s. “I would be honored if you would allow me to stand in her place.”

  Kartek miserably met the alder’s gaze in the mirror, but there was no way she could object. The rite had to be done, and if Kartek’s own mother couldn’t give her such a gift, and no one had been officially chosen, as her wedding should have been a month away still, there was no one more fitting than the oldest female alder. So Kartek nodded, and Cantara took the jewels from Oni.

  First, she placed a golden circlet headpiece on Kartek’s head. Its single green jewel, shaped like a teardrop, hung down between her brows. “Green for the healing aloe that grows near the river. May there be healing in your love whenever you wound one another, just the way you heal those who wound themselves.”

  Kartek wanted to roll her eyes, but she didn’t dare before the stately alderwoman.

  Next, Cantara lifted from the box a pair of ruby earrings. “Red, for the blood your spouse vows to spill if anyone threatens you with harm.”

  If that wasn’t pessimistic, Kartek didn’t know what was.

  “Blue,” Cantara continued, holding up a golden bangle bracelet with little sapphires embedded in it, “for the days you lose loved ones and the tears you will shed together.” After slipping the bangle on Kartek’s arm, she placed a nose ring in Kartek’s right nostril, its single jewel hardly bigger than a seed. “Yellow, for the golden days ahead and bliss with your lover.”

  Kartek wanted to give an unladylike snort and yank that one out, but she restrained herself as Cantara held up the final piece.

  “Opal,” she slipped the ring on Kartek’s right hand, “white as northern snow, for purity and peace and the love that shall spring from it.”

  The second she was finished with the preparation ceremony, Kartek stood abruptly and strode over to the door, waiting silently as she tugged at the folds of her dress and ignored the yearning to yank all of the jewelry off. All six of her handmaidens moved to surround her. They would walk that way to the throne room, where each girl would peel away one at a time until Kartek was left alone.

  “Jahira,” Cantara said, coming to stand beside the little procession where it waited at her door. “I know this is not the kind of marriage you envisioned for yourself. Particularly,” her voice dropped, “just one day after you learned of the death of your betrothed. But perhaps this will not be as terrible as you think. The Maker can stop it at any time he wishes.”

  “Or perhaps he is merely punishing me for my folly.” Kartek nodded at her head handmaiden. “Let us go.”

  Her sandals slapped the shiny stone floor as she walked through the open doors to the throne room. Even before they reached their destination, the happy sound of the pipe greeted them, but as with the jewels, there was no way to remove that form of rejoicing. It was required for the ceremony itself.

  Unlike Kartek, her groom had changed clothes. He stood on the opposite side of the throne room, waiting to enter just as she was. Though she wasn’t sure why, she was surprised that not even the regal kilt Ahmos must have chosen nor the traditional burgundy linen wrapped around his torso and shoulders made him look any stronger or any less pale. His eyes, looking even wider than usual, were fixed on the holy man at the center of the room. Only then did she realize that Dakarai, too, looked like he might pass out.

  Maybe he would. Then the alders could take it as an omen and forbid the marriage. Kartek would be free because she had tried to hold up her end of the bargain, and then she could banish him forever.

  But it was not to be. The music changed, and it was time for them to walk. One step at a time she slowly approached the center of the floor. She refused to be impressed that he knew how to walk to the rhythm of the music or that he properly knelt before the holy man and knew to put only his right hand forward at the holy man’s feet. Ahmos must have taught him that.


  She also knelt and placed her left hand next to his. Where the blades of their hands touched his skin was cool and clammy, and she had to ignore the ripple of fear and disgust that roiled in her stomach.

  “Since the time of Hedjet’s birth,” the holy man began, “each jahira has married a man of righteousness and peace so that the kingdom and all its people may see prosperity and goodwill as each generation rises and falls. The jahira vows to guard the jewel and all her powers that are connected to it, and the emeeri vows to protect both of them with his life if such a call comes.” He looked at Kartek. “Are you ready to recite the vows, my jahira?”

  No.

  “Yes, Holiness.”

  “And you?” He turned to Dakarai. “Oh, but I don’t believe I have received your name.”

  Kartek couldn’t stop herself from glancing up at him. If he told the truth, she could have messengers sent out to find out more about this man’s history. She would send word as far as Destin if she had to. Surely King Rodrigue would come to her aid. And if he lied? Well, that would make their marriage as real as a mirage.

  “Dakarai of the Ibhari tribe.”

  So that’s how he knew of her people’s customs. She could hear some of the alders release sighs of relief as her hopes went up in flames. His own people were camping at the city gates.

  “Then rise, Dakarai, son of the Ibhari, and swear your allegiance and life blood to this people.” The holy man held up a jewel. It was nearly identical to Kartek’s, small and round, nearly the size of her thumb, surrounded by a thin gold disk. The only difference was in the color. Instead of pink, this one was onyx. “For with this jewel I give to you, the jahira’s people are now your people. Their struggles are your strife. Their joys are your delight, and their safety is your design.” He held up the jewel’s chain with both hands. “Do you swear it on your life and before the Maker? To guard them with your last breath?”