A Beautiful Curse

by Kenley Davidson

  “Isn’t there any way to break the spell?” Cambren asked, almost as if he’d been reading her mind.

  “Yes,” she admitted, grateful once more that she could no longer blush. “But I don’t remember what it is.”

  She expected him to be upset, but anger didn’t seem to be a significant part of Prince Cambren’s nature. Instead, he sat down in the grass, leaned back, and set her on his chest, clasping his hands behind his head to prop it up.

  “Then I suppose we’ll just have to think of something.”

  What an unusual day this was turning out to be. Far more interesting than searching for bolts of silk, or worrying about who was going to win at Father’s challenges.

  Cambren eyed the strange creature sitting on his chest, feeling almost certain that it was embarrassed. How he could know that about a frog, he wasn’t sure. But then, he had no idea how a frog could be talking either. Clearly, there was magic at work, so all bets were off.

  “How much do you know about fairies?” he asked curiously. “Have you met many of them?”

  “Only the one,” the frog said, “and he’s been ruining my life since…” The frog broke off whatever it had been about to say. “Since forever,” it said shortly.

  What could a frog possibly have to hide?

  “So this fairy has a bit of a grudge,” Cambren mused. “Which means the curse will probably be hideously difficult to break.”

  “Or horribly simple,” the frog admitted. “I just wish I could remember. The whole thing seems rather hazy to me now.”

  “But if you’re actually a frog who was cursed to be able to talk, then if we break the curse, you’ll just be an ordinary frog, right?”

  “How should I know?” the frog said peevishly. “I’ve never been cursed before, have you?”

  Cambren chuckled. “I guess that depends on what you mean by cursed. My brother thinks I’m a blight on the royal family because I don’t care about clothes or protocol or politics. I prefer to spend my time with my horses and my books. They don’t ever judge me for what I wear, or how I walk, or whether I make jokes out of serious things.”

  “Yes, well, your brother thinks everything is serious,” the frog retorted. “I think someone blighted his sense of humor.”

  “Oh, no, I’m pretty sure he was born that way. Even Mother couldn’t get him to laugh.”

  The frog sighed and blinked its enormous eyes. “I’m sorry,” it said sadly. “You probably miss her. I’m sure it’s difficult to have these challenges bringing up painful memories.”

  “You’re very perceptive for a frog,” Cambren noted, wondering how a frog could possibly know about either the queen or his father’s challenges. But then, it was a talking frog that said it knew Dauntry. If he could accept that much, why not accept that it probably knew as much about Anura as any other citizen?

  Cam let his head fall back on the grass. “And yes. I do miss her. Every year it seems to be getting harder to remember, but I know our family was much closer when Mother was alive. I think we all just wanted to be around her—she was warmhearted and cheerful, and so completely impractical. She never let anything upset her and could find the humor in everything.”

  “Like you,” the frog said, shifting its feet from side to side. “She must have been a lot like you.”

  “I hope so,” Cambren said softly, staring up into the bright sunlit sky. “She made my father very happy. He’s always been so practical and efficient, but she helped him appreciate the lighter side of life. Since she’s been gone, he’s been… different.”

  Suddenly he realized that they were talking more about him than the frog’s plight. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, sitting up and partially dislodging the creature resting on his chest. “I didn’t mean to go on about myself like that. We were talking about breaking your curse.”

  “You really shouldn’t bother yourself about it,” the frog insisted. “You have the challenge to think of. Finding the right way to break my curse could take forever.”

  “But breaking a curse is far more interesting than worrying about silk,” Cambren protested. “I’m not convinced the thing my father wants even exists. He’s probably just trying to make a point about something, but I have no idea how to figure out what it is.”

  “Oh, it exists,” the frog said, as casually as if it had announced that the sky was blue.

  “You’re joking!” Cambren exclaimed. “You’ve heard what we’re supposed to find and you know what it is?”

  “Of course,” the frog huffed, as though its intelligence had been insulted. “Peregorian silk. It’s imported from across the sea by Caladonia, so it’s outrageously expensive. Also, it’s made from spider silk, not silkworms, so it takes an incredibly long time to create. But it’s light, and thin, and it never tears.”

  Cambren’s jaw dropped. “I think we just answered the question of whether you’re a frog cursed with human intelligence or a human turned into a frog,” he announced.

  “No, we haven’t,” the frog said crossly. “That fairy could have dropped every bit of knowledge in the kingdoms into my head along with the ability to speak.”

  “Now you’re just being contrary,” Cam informed the frog with mock sternness. “You know all about my family, and now this. Why won’t you just admit that you were human?”

  If the frog were a person, it would have been slumped over in a hunched-up ball of misery. “For a lot of reasons. I still might not have been, you know.”

  “Aha!” Cambren grabbed the frog and scrambled to his feet. “If you were a person, maybe all you need is to be kissed by a princess. Isn’t that how it usually works with fairies and spells of that nature?”

  “No!” the frog yelped, jerking wildly in his grasp. “I do not need to be kissed. By anyone. Put me down!”

  “I’m sorry!” Cam set the frog down hastily and crouched next to it on his knees. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I promise, no kissing. Even if we wanted to try it, I’m not sure where we would find a princess anyway.”

  “Well, we don’t want,” the frog croaked. “We’ll have to think of something else.”

  “Hmmm.” Cam thought for a bit, until he glanced at the shadows falling over the pond and realized how late it was getting. “Look,” he said, feeling inexplicably shy about it, “it’s pretty clear you’re not fond of this pond, so would you like to come with me while I feed the horses? Then we could go back to the market and look for some of that silk you mentioned.”

  “I…” The frog blinked a few times and then swiveled its eyes back and forth, almost like a head shake. “I’d better not leave the pond. What if I got lost? Or dropped? Horses have such big feet, and one could step on me and make a frog pancake before I could even croak for help.”

  “I could put you back in my shirt again,” Cam suggested, not wanting to leave the poor creature alone with its gloomy thoughts.

  “That won’t be necessary,” the frog gasped hastily, taking a few hops closer to the pond. “I’d better start getting used to living here, considering that I’ll probably be spending the rest of my life in a pond of one sort or another.”

  “What will you eat?” Cam wondered aloud.

  The frog made a choking sound. “I don’t know,” it said. “I suppose I’ll eat whatever frogs eat when I get hungry enough. But I’ll have to be very hungry. I don’t know if frogs can get sick, but I certainly feel sick thinking about it.”

  Cam winced. “Look, I do need to go feed the horses, but I’ll be back. I promise I won’t abandon you here. There’s got to be a way to turn you back to the way you were.”

  “I hope so,” the frog said mournfully, “but you really oughtn’t concern yourself. You’re a prince. You have so many bigger things to do. Perhaps it would be better if you left me to my fate.”

  That was just about enough of that. Cam reached out, picked up the frog again, and stared seriously into its bulbous eyes. “And just what kind of prince would I be if I left one of my citizens to live unde
r the effects of a magical curse without at least trying to save them?” he demanded. “My brother Dauntry believes in the greater good, and sacrificing himself for his kingdom, and I suppose that’s all very well, but it doesn’t do much for me. My mother always said you had to see people one at a time, or you would begin to treat them as a herd, rather like sheep, and forget how important and beautiful each one really is. Whether a person is a prince, or a merchant, or a librarian, or a frog, they deserve their sovereign’s compassion, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The frog looked back, intent and almost human in its focus. “Yes,” it said finally. “I suppose I would.”

  “Then that’s that.” Cam nodded briskly and set the frog down near the water’s edge. “You can stay here if you like, or I can find a better place for you, but I will be trying to help break your curse.”

  “Then you should know that there aren’t likely to be many places in Ranidane that carry Peregorian silk,” the frog muttered, looking at the ground. “It’s so expensive, even merchants who stock it won’t show it to customers unless they ask for it by name. Try Sefton’s just off the market square.”

  Cam found his jaw dropping for the second time. “Are you one of my father’s ministers?” he asked suspiciously. “How do you know all this?”

  The frog twitched in what was probably meant to be a shrug. “I’ve spent a lot of time at the market,” it said, “and I like to listen to the people who sell unusual wares. There’s a weaver who makes silk rugs that I’ve frequently admired, and I’ve heard her mention that she gets her best silk thread from Sefton’s.”

  “Maybe that’s what my father meant, when he said the challenges would give us a chance to display our knowledge and our character,” Cam murmured, half to himself. “The only reason you knew this is because you were out there, among the people, listening to them.”

  “The only reason I knew is because I don’t have any friends,” the frog snapped. “I was talking to the market vendors out of sheer desperation. Don’t make this out to be some kind of virtue.”

  “Very well,” Cam promised with a grin, “I won’t, but only if you’ll agree to stop denying that you’re human.”

  “Fine.” The frog rolled its eyes, which was a truly impressive sight. “I was human. Are you happy now?”

  Actually, he was. And not just because he wouldn’t have to let his father down.

  “Thank you,” Cambren said seriously. “You’ve helped me immensely, and to be honest, I’ve very much enjoyed talking to you today. I know that probably isn’t much consolation, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation with someone who doesn’t treat me with either condescension or dismay.”

  The frog mumbled something under its breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Me too,” it said grudgingly. “And that was before I was a frog, so you can imagine what it’s been like since.”

  Cam’s laugh echoed out over the pond. “Well, you are excellent company as you are, so I can only believe that I would have liked you even better as a human.”

  The frog mumbled something else and hopped off towards the water.

  “Be safe, friend,” Cambren called after it, realizing he must have looked a fool and not caring a whit. “I’ll return when I can.”

  The frog croaked in reply and disappeared into the pond.

  Chapter 6

  Friend. Prince Cambren had called her friend.

  Elisette crouched in the mud on the edge of the pond and let fat, salty tears roll from her enormous eyes into the deep, black sludge between her toes. She thought back to her final days at home, where she’d packed and dreamed of experiencing an extraordinary adventure. Of finding a friend.

  Well, she’d managed both, but she’d had to turn into a frog to do it. She imagined her parents and sisters receiving her last letter…

  Another day at the library. Today I had the opportunity to read an ancient text describing the events of the Godmother War. It was fascinating, and I learned a great deal about the political origins of the kingdoms. I also re-shelved fifty books, discovered four inaccuracies between binding markings and the acquisitions catalog, and fell off my ladder when Nelson removed three of the screws while I was perched near the top dusting the stacks. He told Farrel I tripped over my dress and fell off, which bought me a scolding for tumbling into a table full of rare manuscripts. Don’t worry, Mother—I’m sure the bruises will fade in a few days, and my ankle is only a tiny bit swollen. Most importantly, not a single one of the manuscripts was damaged.

  My lodgings are quite lovely, and the petunias out front cheer me on my way to work every morning. Each time I walk through the market there is something new to see, and I’m quite enjoying the opportunity to experience the broader world.

  While I have not yet been able to secure a paying position, I remain hopeful that Lady Caro may recommend me as a tutor to the noble families of her acquaintance. I feel quite certain that there must be some among them with daughters who aspire to greater learning.

  If you hear from Martin, please tell him I am thinking of him. I miss you all, but do not regret taking this opportunity to broaden my horizons and my opportunities. It has been most educational, in more ways than I can express.

  Your loving daughter and affectionate sister,

  Elisette

  They would think her well and happy, and never dream of the pain and isolation hiding behind her words. And it would be the last thing they would ever hear from her. She could never bring herself to hurt them—or humiliate herself—with knowledge of her transformation.

  Perhaps the best thing for her to do now was to begin accustoming herself to her new life. Learn to use her new body. Learn to swim. Learn to eat… well, maybe not that.

  But she would have to attempt something or she might go mad from having nothing to do, nothing to see, nothing to read for days upon end. She hoped Prince Cambren would be true to his word, that he hadn’t lied when he called her friend, but she dared not place all her hope on that. He was a prince, and a handsome one too, with many demands on his time. She was a novelty, a fascination that might soon wear off, and then she would be on her own.

  Edging her way reluctantly towards the water, Elisette swallowed her misgivings and began to explore the advantages of her new form.

  As it turned out, there were more than she’d expected. For a frog, it was more difficult not to swim, as her body was quite naturally built for speed through the water. It was a rather spectacular feeling, to dart about freely and never need to worry about drowning. After a few tentative trips below the surface, she discovered that her enormous eyes were well suited to seeing even through the murky depths, and spent an almost contented few hours exploring the world at the bottom of the pond.

  She’d just come up to float lazily on the top of the water when she became conscious of crashing and thumping, the unmistakable sounds of a human stomping towards the pond in an evident temper.

  There were clearly times when having eyes on the top of one’s head might actually prove helpful. Keeping her body submerged, Ellie swiveled those eyes around until she spotted a man, crashing through the brush and grasses until he reached the very edge of the pond and stared into it moodily.

  She’d known by the footsteps that it was not Cambren, but had no idea who to expect. This man was tall, dark-haired and handsome, with a twisted sneer that if she rearranged it just a bit into a flirtatious smirk… Prince Eldrick.

  Her life was apparently plagued by princes.

  Ellie watched as the middle prince stalked up and down the margin of the pond, muttering viciously and twisting a stick between his hands. She kept an eye on him, paddling in silent circles as he paced, until a new set of footsteps approached. These were light and quick, and their owner darted into view abruptly, her face flushed and her wheat-colored hair escaping its knot at the base of her neck.

  “Korine!” the prince exclaimed, and dropped his stick to clasp her hands, wearing a far diff
erent expression than his former sneer. “You came. Does he know where you are?”

  “I’m not an idiot, Rick,” the girl said with a wry smile. “Father thinks I’m having tea with Ilsa.”

  “How have you been?”

  “You mean have I enjoyed watching you make a fool of yourself over other women, acting as though you haven’t a care in the world?”

  Eldrick dropped her hands. “What was I supposed to do? Your father said no for the third time and threatened to throw me out of his shop. I didn’t want to lose even that way of seeing you, so I pretended to move on.”

  “So now Father is even more convinced that you’re a wastrel who’s trifling with my affections.” Korine’s voice was kind, but stern.

  “Kori, we’ve been friends since you were four. How could he have thought I was trifling with you? When have I ever given him reason to believe that I would betray you in that way?”

  Korine sighed and turned away from him. “You know my father. He hasn’t trusted the nobility ever since his first love broke his heart.”

  “But why should we have to suffer because his love proved faithless? I’m not a wastrel, Korine, you know this. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and I’m not going to give you up for some political alliance. That’s Dauntry’s job, to marry for the kingdom.”

  “And if Dauntry isn’t the one chosen?” Korine said gently. “Rick, you know this challenge only makes things worse for us. There’s no telling who your father will choose. And if you’re to be king? Would you go before the assembly to accept the crown with a tailor’s daughter on your arm?”

  Eldrick fell silent, his arms crossed, his eyes on the water but his gaze far away.

  “Rick, it may be time to admit that Father is right.”

  “No.” The prince whirled to face her, grasping her arms fervently. “I’ll never admit that, Korine. I’ve known you were the only one for me since we were children. Just as you have. What of our promises, and all the plans we’ve made?”