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

by Brittany Fichter

  “I do.” There was no hesitation. No moment of thought paused his answer. It was as if this vow had been his goal the whole time. Kartek wanted to stop watching him, but she couldn’t pull her eyes from his face. There was a strange sort of determination in his unusual green eyes. Again, she was struck with the feeling that she had seen them before.

  “Then I now declare you Dakarai, emeeri of the Hedjetian people.”

  The curiosity that had played in the back of Kartek’s mind vanished as he turned to face her, nerves and revulsion taking the place of her curiosity. Slowly, Dakarai removed the veil. Placing his hands on the sides of her face, he gently pulled her forward to place a soft kiss on the bridge of her nose and each of her eyes. She trembled as he then moved in for the last of the ceremonial kisses. His breath was warm on her lips where he briefly paused.

  The kiss was not as she expected it to be. His hands might have been cold and clammy, but his lips were warm and inviting as they tenderly pressed against hers.

  And she had the ridiculous inclination to kiss him back.

  Before she could decide whether or not to act upon the traitorous thought, however, he pulled away and let go of her hands before bowing to the holy man.

  So great was her distraction that Kartek nearly forgot to bow as well and didn’t recover her senses until they were on their way to her chambers.

  Their chambers.

  A whole new wave of angst took her, and it was all she could do to keep her feet moving forward and her hands from trembling as two servants opened the door to the hastily created honeymoon suite.

  He stopped just inside the door and looked around the room.

  The fire had been built in the brief time she’d been gone, and even more lily petals had been scattered all about the floor as well as on the sleeping mat. Countless pillows had been tossed on the mat, too, and a small plate of nuts, fruit, and sweet delicacies had been laid beside the wine.

  Kartek’s heart wrenched. This night shouldn’t have come so soon. It should have come for someone she truly loved. Someone she wanted.

  It should have been with Gahiji. She had prepared herself for such a time with him. Not this stranger. Not on a whim. Something inside of her hardened.

  “You may sleep anywhere you like.” Kartek picked up a few of the pillows and dropped them at the bottom of the mat. “I will sleep here.”

  “At the foot?” His voice was soft in its surprise. “Surely that’s not a fitting place for a jahira to spend her wedding—”

  “If you think I will be spending tonight with you, you are sorely mistaken.”

  “I did not mean in that way.” He avoided her gaze. “I merely meant I would take the foot of the bed.”

  She shook her head and ran her hands through her hair, removing the headdress and placing it back in the box on the cosmetics table, though it was hard not to let her surprise show. She had expected him to argue, to try to convince her to do otherwise. Even in their limited courtship meetings, Gahiji had made it clear that he’d expected her to give him an heir less than a year after they were wed.

  The faster you bring forth a child, the faster we will be able to protect our heritage and our peace, he had said, a confident smile on his lips.

  “Of course,” she had agreed wholeheartedly, though the thought had made her blush more than a little. This, of course, had made him laugh even harder.

  But there was no Gahiji tonight, and as her . . . husband, Kartek shuddered at the thought, was not protesting, Kartek pushed together a pile of cushions at the bottom corner of the mat closest to the fire before marching into the next room over to change into her night dress. She half expected Dakarai to follow, but he didn’t. When she reemerged, he was sitting cross-legged on his half of the bed, studying one of the date cakes.

  To his credit, she didn’t miss the blush that rose to his pale cheeks when she walked in, nor the way he averted his eyes nearly immediately. But she couldn’t let that soften her, not when she was working so hard to stay confident and strong.

  “Something to eat?” He held up the little plate of food.

  Kartek nearly retorted that she was far from hungry, but then she recalled that odd part of her promise, that she allows him to eat from her plate. With a huff, she took a handful of nuts and sat. “It would be wise of you to get some sleep,” she said, studying her food with too much interest. “The first hour of the morning has already passed. I will be rising at the sixth.” She curled up on her half of the mat and wrapped herself in a cocoon of blankets. They offered little protection, but at least she could have the illusion of being safe while she slept.

  “Very well,” he said, swallowing the remains of a date cake. “But Princess?”

  There was that title again. “Yes?”

  “You need not fear me.”

  “I’m sure you can understand my lack of confidence in your words.”

  “Completely.” He spoke as though they were merely discussing crop irrigation or some other inane topic. “But I promise, I will not touch you. Not without your permission.”

  Kartek didn’t stir, but she feared he might hear her breath quicken beneath her covers.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Thank you . . . I suppose,” she said. “That is quite . . . decent of you.”

  “And Princess? You don’t need that knife beneath your pillow, either.” There was a smile in his voice this time, as though he were amused.

  Kartek wanted to curse. She thought she’d hidden her little jeweled dagger well.

  But when he spoke again, his voice was serious. “No harm will come to you tonight. I made a promise to protect you. And I intend to keep it.”

  7

  Whatever Methods

  Kartek stretched then stiffened as panic seized her. But when she looked for the man at the head of her bed, she found herself quite alone. She sat up and studied the room through bleary eyes. In fact, he wasn’t in the room at all, nor, when she got out of bed, was he in any of the dressing, sitting, or receiving rooms that were adjoined to hers.

  Well, if her husband was the kind that appeared at night and then disappeared again the next morning, leaving her alone as much as possible while they were together, that would suit her just fine. As she took up the morning meal that had been laid out for her, however, she couldn’t ignore the bit of guilt that ate at her stomach along with the hunger. Aside from a forced marriage, his actions had been completely honorable. She’d never heard of a man content with spending his wedding night alone.

  “Oni,” she asked when her friend came in to collect her food, “where has my husband gone?”

  Oni avoided her gaze as she lifted the tray and began to arrange the empty dishes. “I believe he is down with the children.”

  “The children?”

  “The tribal warriors’ children. The ones that were playing down by the healing tents yesterday.”

  That was . . . unexpected. “Thank you, Oni.” She glanced at the rumpled pile of clothes by the window. “He is wearing clothes, isn’t he?”

  Oni smiled for the first time and blushed. “Do you think Ahmos would have let him out of the palace without them? No, Ebo was sent to deliver the new clothes early this morning. He was not happy to be given the duty of an errand boy, but . . .”

  “But Ahmos didn’t know what to expect. I see.” She paused. “What’s wrong?”

  Oni shook her head, still studying the tray of dirty dishes before her. “I was just hoping you were . . . well, after last night.”

  “Ah. Well, I am grateful for your concern, but I will admit that he was more than honorable in at least one way.”

  Oni finally turned to look at her, eyes the size of dates. “So you’re—”

  “Thank you, Oni. That will be all for now.” She stood to go to her dressing room, but paused on the threshold. “Is there any more news of the enchantress?”

  At this, Oni’s round face clouded. “A runner arrived this morning to tell us that she had app
eared in a nearby village. When the runner left, she wasn’t doing much, but she and her creatures were camped just outside the town. Commander Fadil has already left with more warriors.”

  “Which village?”

  “Maisef.”

  Kartek nodded. “Thank you for telling me. Let Nuri know that I will be down shortly.”

  “Would you like some help getting dressed today?”

  “Thank you but no. I can manage on my own.”

  Though she was in a hurry to check on her men, Kartek relished the short time alone. Now that her rooms were apparently no longer hers, she would not take a single moment of solitude for granted again. Being surrounded by many people quickly tired Kartek out, which made the position of jahira one that required her constant effort. She had found out at a young age that she needed several hours a day to recover from the strain if she was to do much healing. The only reason she’d been able to heal so many the day before with so little rest was because of the driving fear that had lain in her heart. Now, she thought sadly as she ran her hand lovingly over the doorframe, she would be sharing even those few precious hours with someone else.

  Still, she felt more prepared for the day after giving herself a quick scrub down with the sponge and clean water in the basin Oni had left. Washing away the blood from the day before felt good, though she would most likely need another bath tonight. She donned a simple dress of green and pulled her hair up into a knot before deeming herself presentable.

  On her way out to the pavilion, Kartek slowed to watch the children from afar. Sure enough, Dakarai was with them. She needed to move on and speak with the commander, but something urged her just to stay and watch for a few moments more.

  “Behold!” he shouted, throwing his arms up with his hands bent like claws. “I am the troll of this cave! Who dares to enter my lair?”

  The children shrieked and tripped over one another as he took an exaggerated step toward them. One brave little boy grabbed a stick and pointed it at Dakarai.

  “So,” Dakarai turned to the little boy and took another step, raising his arms even higher. “You wish to be eaten today, do you? I think I shall have you with my squash tonight!”

  Against her will, Kartek smiled as he grabbed the little boy and lifted him in the air. The move seemed surprisingly effortless for a man with such dreadfully skinny arms. The boy squealed and shouted as Dakarai walked toward the other children, still holding the child in the air.

  “Who else wants to be my supper?” he growled down at them.

  The children scattered, but as they did, one of the little girls stumbled and cut her knee on a rock.

  Kartek had automatically taken a few steps toward them when Dakarai put the boy down and knelt at her side.

  “Let me see,” he said, gently taking her knee in his hands. Kartek paused as he reached back to a nearby table where herbs and salves were being mixed for the warriors. To Kartek’s surprise, he grabbed a few of the bowls and began to expertly mix their ingredients together between his fingers. “This potion is magic,” he told the girl, his expression serious.

  Her large eyes grew wide. “Like the jahira’s power?”

  “Not quite so good as that,” he said, dipping a finger in the bowl and tasting the mixture before throwing another root in. “But it will do for now.” He took a glop of the sticky salve he’d just mixed and began caking it over the wound. As he rubbed the salve into the cut, he looked up from the wound and briefly met Kartek’s gaze.

  Kartek’s face heated, and she quickly made her way past him into the tents. She might be jahira, but it felt foolish to get caught snooping, even if it was only at one’s husband as he pretended to be a monster. She quickly set herself to work in order to forget, checking fevers and healing smaller wounds she’d missed the day before.

  “Nuri, I need the Laba—”

  “Here.”

  She started at the sound of Dakarai’s voice. He was standing just at her right elbow, and he was holding out the little bowl of crushed yellow root.

  “Um . . . thank you.” She took the bowl, blushing again. “Would you be able to fetch me the—”

  Before she could finish, a bowl of orange powder was in her hands as well. She blinked at it a few times, accepted the bowl, then turned back to the soldier’s wound. “You certainly are knowledgeable about healing medicines.”

  He shrugged. “I had quite a bit of spare time every night once my sisters were in bed or off with their nurses. I thought I might learn something useful while I waited for my brothers to return.”

  Kartek turned and stared at him. “Who are you? Really?”

  He frowned. “To be honest, I’m not sure where I stand now. I know what I should be. But I also know that such a position may no longer even exist.”

  Could the man be any more vague if he tried?

  “Could you at least tell me how old you are?”

  “Twenty and one. I’m curious, though,” he said, gesturing to the wound she was wrapping. “You can heal with your hands. Why go through so much trouble to dress and treat the wound as well?”

  “My ancestors found long ago that we can heal the worst of wounds with the jewel, but it is wise to be safe and dress it properly anyway. It prevents infection should the wound reopen in my absence.”

  “Can you heal without the jewel?”

  “Small cuts and bruises, yes. My mother said that one day I would learn to draw more power on my own, but that will not likely be for many more years. It requires a great deal of focus and practice, and the jewel helps me channel that focus now.” She fastened the bandage and put her hand on the sleeping warrior’s shoulder. “There. He should be himself in a day or so.” She turned to push the cart to the next cot only to find that Dakarai had already moved it for her. Shaking her head to herself, she followed.

  “What is it?” he asked as she leaned down to peer at the gash in the second man’s lower calf.

  “I only . . . I suppose I wasn’t expecting a husband with knowledge of healing. My father preferred matters of state.” She glanced at him. “I don’t know how much you know of my ancestry, but only the women in my family carry the gift. That’s why the line is continued through the jahira instead of the emeeri. Where did you learn so much while your sisters were . . . sleeping, was it?”

  His thin face darkened, and his fingers gripped the roll of bandage until they lost what little color they had. “Suffering takes on a new light when you’re—”

  A shout broke the stillness of the morning. Kartek and Dakarai looked up to see one tribesman trying to strangle another.

  “You stole it!” the one on top shouted. He had his hands wrapped around the other tribesman’s throat. “And you will return to me what you have taken!”

  The other man tried to push him off, but his arms soon began to flail helplessly, each movement weaker than the last.

  By the time Dakarai reached him, with Kartek close on his heels, the second man’s face was nearly blue. With a surprising strength, Dakarai yanked the first man off. Kartek ran to the side of the one on the ground as other tribesmen and warriors reached them. She could feel the tension rising in the air around them as she struggled to open his airway. Finally, it opened with a satisfying pop.

  “I want to know his name and tribe!” she called over her shoulder to Dakarai. When he didn’t answer, she turned back to see why.

  She had expected to see him keeping the man in a stranglehold, possibly even wrestling him to the ground. Instead of restraining the man, however, Dakarai was whispering in his ear. Kartek and the rest of the men and women around her watched in awe as the man lay back down without a fight, docile as a kitten. In a moment, his eyes closed, and he began to breathe deeply.

  “There you are, Jahira. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Kartek turned to find Ahmos. At the sound of the head alder’s voice, many of those gathered around them began to shuffle away, though not without a few hostile looks. Ahmos bowed then glanced around. “Did
I miss something?”

  Kartek looked back to see what Dakarai might say, but to her surprise, he was already gone, the man he’d just put to sleep snoring quietly on his cot.

  “Did you see that?”

  “See what?”

  Kartek shook her head. “Dakarai just broke up a fight and saved this man’s life . . . by whispering to the other one and putting him to sleep.”

  Ahmos glanced at the sleeping man then down at the body that Nuri’s girls were preparing to carry back to his cot. “This keeps getting more and more interesting,” he muttered quietly. Then he turned back to Kartek. “Do you think I might have a word with you?”

  “Say what you wish, Ahmos. You always do.” She stood and dusted her hands off. “Did you inquire of the Ibhari tribe about Dakarai?”

  “May I have a word in private?”

  They left the healing tents and stopped at one of the outer pools. Women and children had been washing and drawing water from the pool, but one look from Ebo sent them scattering by the time Kartek and Ahmos reached it. Kartek kept her face smooth and calm as she sat at the pool’s edge on one of boulders that lined the water. But on the inside, she was dreading whatever it was that he had to say. Ahmos didn’t look happy. And when Ahmos was displeased, the news was sure to be dreadful.

  “I have just met with the alders.”

  “About Dakarai, I suppose.”

  Ahmos sat beside her. “They are worried.”

  “I can’t imagine why.” Sarcasm wasn’t becoming of the jahira, but Kartek was beyond caring about such niceties at the moment.

  “We sent warriors this morning to ask about Dakarai. And it turns out that the Ibhari tribe has no knowledge of such a man.”

  Hope sprang to life. If he was lying about his identity, they could have the marriage annulled. But then she recalled his sharp wit and keen sense of planning. Surely he would have schemed up a way to keep her married despite such a technicality. She wanted to wilt. Instead, she asked, “Have you spoken with Jibril again?”