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

by Brittany Fichter

  “I didn’t know that you like to go there . . . It was only a hunch.”

  “A hunch?”

  “You like lotus flowers. I thought there might be some on the outskirts of the palace.”

  She blinked at him, the words she’d planned to spit out melting away on her tongue. “How do you know that? Either of those things?”

  He looked down at his hands. “You were out once with Rayis Gahiji.”

  He had seen her with Gahiji?

  “You were visiting him and his family. I saw you steal away from your group and make your way down to a nearby stream. You stopped at the bottom and picked a wild lotus flower.” His voice lowered, no longer a shout. “You smiled at it as though it were your friend. You hadn’t smiled that way at anyone else the entire day.”

  “How do you know all this?” Kartek searched her memory. She had spent little time with Gahiji. There could only have been seven or eight such meetings between their families, and she was sure she had never seen Dakarai at any of them.

  “Your betrothed liked to choose public places where he could show off his bride-to-be. Not that he paid much heed to you when you were actually there.” He shrugged again and stared at the ground. “Anyone watching could have noticed such things.”

  Kartek felt her mouth fall open. Had she noticed such things? He was right in one sense, at least, for in the few times they were together with their respective parties full of siblings, cousins, friends, handmaidens, eunuchs, and servants, Gahiji had dragged them all around, whether it was his camp or her kingdom that they were visiting. Everywhere they went, he had wanted to explore the region and find its finest sights and sounds, food and fun. She could still recall his explosive laughter, the kind that got everyone around him to laugh as well. But had he ever noticed her steal away when she needed a few moments apart from the merrymaking and revelry? Had he ever sought to join her?

  Not that she could remember. Not that this observer could either, apparently.

  “So . . .” She struggled to maintain an authoritative tone. “I have seen you before then.”

  “In a way.” A sad smile lifted his thin pale lips. “But I doubt you noticed—Wait, what’s that smell?” He left the wall and sniffed the air, walking slowly until he reached the food where it had been set on the floor. He bent and lifted one of the goblets. He sniffed it again before turning to her, his eyes wide. “You would give me Ebit root?”

  Kartek closed her eyes. “I didn’t put it there.”

  “But you knew.”

  When she opened her eyes again, his face was twisted and he gripped the goblet’s stem so tightly his knuckle bones showed through his skin.

  “You, of all people, a healer! You knew what poison this is and you allowed them to leave it on my plate?”

  “I didn’t want to!” Her voice sounded strangled. “I wanted to simply ask you the truth! But you’ve danced around the truth the entire time you’ve been here!” She forced her hands to stop shaking and glared at him, willing the guilt to subside.

  “But you know how dangerous this is! I could have died!”

  “You have sisters!” she shouted. “Would you want one of them to live through what I have been through? To be forced into wedlock? Into giving her people to a man she doesn’t know? To share a bed with a man against her will—”

  “And it killed me to do so!” He threw the goblet down. It clanged as it hit the floor. “If there had been another path, I would have chosen it in a heartbeat!”

  “Dakarai, I—”

  “You cannot understand the loathing I hold for myself every time I see you! Because yes, I imagine my little sisters and what kind of monster I would assume the man to be who could have done such a thing to them!” He strode over to where she was standing. She flinched, but he didn’t touch her, only stared down with a mixture of rage and anguish. “I came here because someone took everything from me, and when I came, I knew I could be killed . . . or worse, for making such a suggestion as I did.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “Because I love you. And I couldn’t bear to see everything stolen from you the way it was from me.”

  Kartek fell back a step. “You what?”

  “Judge me for it. Call me the monster I am! I deserve it. But if you know nothing else, know this.” He strode forward and leaned down until their noses were almost touching, and for the shortest second, she wondered if he would touch his lips to hers. “I have loved you since the day I first laid eyes on you.” He brought a hand up and brushed the back of his fingers against her jaw.

  She shuddered, but it wasn’t from disgust or fear.

  “I think you are beautiful and intelligent and everything a man could ever want in a woman.”

  Her breath was coming so fast Kartek thought she might pass out.

  “Dealing with you as I did went against everything I know or believe in,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “But telling you what you want to know wasn’t allowed yesterday, and it won’t be until you uphold your end of the bargain.”

  She stared at him incredulously. “You have slept in my bed, shared my meals, and we kissed at our wedding. What part have I withheld?”

  He fixed her with a dark smile. “That’s just it. You’ve given all you are capable of! But it will never be enough until … I just wish I could—” He stopped and struggled, as though he couldn’t find the words. After a long moment of silence, he turned and ran his hand through his hair with a groan, then took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was low and controlled. “As much as I wish I could spare you the pain of our actions, it’s impossible to go back and change anything now.” With that, his green eyes clouded over, and clenching his jaw, he turned and stomped out the door.

  9

  Questionable Duty

  Unable to eat after he had gone, Kartek sent the supper away. She put on her night dress and went to sit on her window seat, pulling her legs up beneath her chin and staring out at the moonlit landscape below. Twice there was a knock at the door, and both times her heart leapt into her throat. But the first was only the servant come to take the food, and the other was another servant to tell her that Commander Fadil’s captain was taking all able-bodied warriors with him to Maisef, with the exception of the contingent remaining to protect the palace.

  “What shall I tell him in return, Jahira?”

  “Tell Ahmos to move the people out of the city as best he can,” she replied without turning. “Flee to the west if possible. Hide if they can’t.”

  The servant paused. “Of course, Jahira. But . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “If . . . if I may be so bold, the enchantress isn’t here yet, nor has she made known any intention of coming. Do you think she will really come here next? I mean, we are not a large city. Mightn’t she go to a larger one such as Shapina?”

  “Nothing is for sure. Now go do as I say.”

  The moon rose higher over the valley, but Dakarai didn’t return. Why did that bother her so much? He hadn’t really any right to be angry, not after what he’d done to her. He was the one who had forced her to marry against her will, after all.

  She sighed and moved from one window to another, but it didn’t unseat the guilt that sat like a rock in her gut. That excuse for her anger, blaming him for everything, was feeling used up, even for her. There was clearly much going on that she didn’t understand.

  That Ahmos was right and the enchantress was involved somehow with Dakarai’s appearance, Kartek had no doubt. Still, she had looked for a sign of artifice in Darkarai’s face. Her father, after all, had taught her well how to discern deceitfulness. But she hadn’t been able to find any. There had been no unwillingness to look at her. He’d made eye contact repeatedly, even searching her face as though she knew the truth as well as he. No strange pauses, no throat clearing or touching of his nose or face. And whenever he had hidden his eyes, it had seemed to be out of shame more than anything else.

  When he had touche
d her face, however . . . desire had taken her by surprise, radiating out from his fingertips to the rest of her body like the scorching rays of the noontime sun. And though she was loath to admit it, she had wanted him to kiss her. Badly. To take her face in his hands and hold her close.

  The desire was disorienting. She hated Dakarai. She wanted him gone and to simply have the quiet stillness of her rooms to herself once more, a place where she could retire and rejuvenate her senses in those few precious moments that she wasn’t healing, having meetings, hearing citizens’ requests, or making grand decisions about politics and people.

  “Jahira?” someone called through the door.

  She sighed and pulled a dressing gown over her night dress. “Come in, Ahmos.”

  Ahmos walked in followed by Ebo, who stationed himself just inside the door, hands folded, eyes staring straight ahead as always.

  “I wouldn’t have intruded, but I saw your husband pacing the halls.” Ahmos paused. “From the look on his face I’m not supposing that the supper went well?”

  Kartek groaned. “I’ve made a mess of things.” Her head snapped up. “But let Alder Bennu know that her seat in the Alder’s Circle will be coming to a swift end.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She did as I asked and did not use Mahat root in his drink.” Kartek glared at the place on the floor where the offending tray had been.

  “Oh?”

  “She used Ebit root instead.”

  “Oh. I see.” He rubbed his shiny head before clasping his hands behind him. “That is a grave misstep indeed. I don’t think the other alders will have any problem dismissing her at once. They might be your equal as a whole, but no single alder has the authority to challenge or overstep you outright.” He paused and caught her eye. “But how are you, my dear?”

  Kartek threw herself back on the window seat. “I’ve muddled everything. Bennu might have put the Ebit in his wine, but I . . .” She shook her head. “I allowed it to stay. And to make matters worse, I fear my husband may actually be in the right.”

  “And what makes you say that?”

  “He . . . he seems upset about the marriage. He keeps saying it wasn’t his choice and he wishes he could have done things differently, but he couldn’t.”

  “Jahira, please forgive my interruption if the advice is not wanted, but it might be easy for him to—”

  “He saw me, Ahmos.”

  Ahmos frowned and looked her up and down. “And I can see you before me now. What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s seen me before, apparently while I was out with Gahiji.”

  “That would have been over a year ago at least.” Ahmos tapped his chin.

  “I don’t mean he merely looked at me,” she said, playing with a piece of her hair. “I mean he saw me. He noticed things about me that I had failed to recognize.”

  “Which would be?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. That Gahiji wished for others to notice me, but never truly tried to get to know me himself. Dakarai, however, was close enough to observe that I prefer to stay away from large crowds, and that I like lotus flowers.” She paused. “I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but . . . Dakarai seems to know me better than Gahiji ever wanted to.”

  Ahmos walked over to where Dakarai’s wine had spilled and bent to mop up the sticky remnants with a cloth he pulled from his belt. “Your parents betrothed you to Gahiji, and he met you himself eight times. I can only suppose he believed your attachment secure enough not to have needed such attentions. Not that such wasn’t shortsighted thinking, of course.” He stopped and studied her. “You feel guilty, don’t you?”

  “I know we must proceed with Hedjet’s good in mind, but . . . what if he’s right, Ahmos? What if Dakarai is truly the victim of wrongdoing just as we are becoming victims now? Might not the enchantress have cursed him in some way as well? Or couldn’t he be under some sort of exaction from a more powerful warlord or tribesman?”

  “These are all possibilities. But what if he’s lying? You have been graced with good men to surround you all your life, but there are many in this world who gain their fortunes making up falsehoods with more confidence than you or I tell the truth.”

  Kartek traced the beads on her night slippers. “I wish to do the right thing,” she whispered.

  Ahmos placed a strong hand on her shoulder. “As do I.” Then he sighed. “We prayed to the Maker for a miracle. Perhaps this boy is the answer and perhaps not. We must also pray now for wisdom.”

  “But how will—”

  “The Maker wishes for us to be just. Ask the Maker tonight to show you the way, and I will do the same. He will not ignore our cries. Eventually, we will learn the truth, for the darkness cannot hide its nature forever. Now,” he squeezed her shoulder and walked to the door. “I suggest you get some sleep. Do not worry about your husband. I will find him and explain Bennu’s poor choice of disobedience.”

  Kartek wanted to wait up for Dakarai, but she found herself nodding in acquiescence. If there was another battle tomorrow, she would need her strength to heal as many men as possible. She would have to leave Dakarai to the Maker.

  Kartek vacillated between sleep and wakefulness until sometime later that night when she heard him enter. She stiffened as he got into the bed, but as he’d done the night before, he lay down at the head, making sure they weren’t touching.

  In a way, that hurt worse than his silence.

  She slept in fitful bursts throughout the remainder of the night, but when she awakened the next morning, he was already gone again. Kartek dressed quickly but allowed a handmaiden to assist her this time. She got the feeling this would be a bloody day, and she needed her hair and clothes to be tied up properly so she might move readily when called upon.

  The day was already hot as she made her way to the tents. Kartek slowed a bit, however, when she rounded the corner to pass by the tribes’ children. As he had been the day before, Dakarai was there. This time he was telling them stories. Unlike the day before, however, he refused to look up even when she purposefully altered her path to walk nearer to them. A single flick of his eyes, and she knew he wouldn’t be raising them toward her again. His jaw was suddenly strained, and he leaned forward so he could only look at the children.

  All of her guilt went up in smoke, and her annoyance was rekindled. If that’s the way he wanted it, then Kartek could play that game too. And she could win. The Hedjet matriarchy was not known for its willfulness for nothing.

  To know the enchantress was approaching Kartek’s city would have been bad, but to be kept guessing was possibly worse. To prevent herself from going mad, Kartek set about with Nuri and her girls preparing the healing supplies in advance. Salves, powders, bandage wraps, and all their little utensils were gathered, mashed, mixed, and organized in earthen bowls on their wooden carts. Most of the cots were empty by now, as the majority of the men were well enough to have either rejoined their ranks or to have returned to their families to finish healing.

  “Are you the queen?” a little voice asked in a thick accent.

  Kartek looked over to her left to find a pair of big brown eyes staring up at her. “Here I am called Jahira, but yes, I can also be called the queen. What is your name?”

  The girl peeked over the edge of the cart at Kartek’s assortment of clay bowls and jars. “I am Lupe. Is that man your husband?” She pointed a chubby finger at Dakarai.

  “Yes.” Kartek pounded the powder in the pestle a little harder.

  “Why are you angry with each other?”

  Kartek stopped grinding and peered at the child.

  She was young, couldn’t be more than six. Her mouth was sticky with what looked to be the remnants of a date, and her dress, which was too short, was dirty and torn in several places.

  “Where are you from?” Kartek asked.

  But the child shook her head. “I don’t know why you don’t talk to him more. He is kind.”

  “Little one, I don�
��t see how that’s any of your—”

  “My daddy was hurt in the battle.” Lupe started to skip in a circle, all the while staring at the sky. It made Kartek dizzy just to watch. “But he,” the girl pointed at Dakarai again, “sang my daddy a song that made him feel better.”

  “And what song would that be?”

  The little girl shrugged and continued skipping. “I don’t know. But it helped my daddy sleep.”

  Unbidden, the tribal head’s words echoed in Kartek’s mind. But only the true Rayis’s song is strong enough to command us all.

  Kartek had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Did he whisper the song?”

  But the little girl wasn’t listening anymore. Instead, she was skipping away.

  “Here” Kartek waved at the nearest servant she could find. “I need two things from you.”

  “Of course, Jahira.”

  “First, I need to find Ahmos. Second, find an alder and have him request to speak with the tribal leaders. It’s urgent.” She paused. “Tell them it’s about the Warrior’s Song.”

  10

  Other Methods

  “I am very sorry, Jahira,” the manservant said, trotting up to her and offering a quick bow. “I have looked all over the palace, but it appears Alder Ahmos was seen leaving this morning and no one knows where he went. Would you like for us to send out word you wish to speak with him now?”

  Kartek pursed her lips. “No, I will speak with him later. Just notify me when he returns to the palace.” She paused. “Any news from the tribal leaders?”

  The servant looked at his feet. “I am sorry, Jahira, but none of them wish to discuss the song further with you. They said it is sacred, and not for . . .” he glanced up at her, “outsiders.”

  So that was the game they were going to play. Kartek balled her fists up in her thin skirts. For people who boasted of their bravery with weapons, they were too cowardly to rouse her ire themselves. She would just have to locate another source of information. “Then find me Oni,” she said.