“What of them?” Korine threw back at him. “If you believe in them still, how can you hurt me as you do, playing at flirtation, chasing every beautiful woman in the city, acting the fool where everyone can see?”
“I told you, I was trying to convince your father not to banish me from his shop. I couldn’t give up that one last way of seeing you. And what does it matter how the world sees me? Let them think me a barbed wit without a heart, as long as you know that I love you.”
It was Korine’s turn to run out of words.
“Kori, you know it’s true. Please, tell me that you believe me.”
Her head bowed, but she still said nothing.
“Korine.” His voice trembled with anguish, while tears began to course down Kori’s cheeks.
“I should go,” she whispered. “Goodbye, Eldrick.”
“No. Please, Korine. Don’t leave like this.”
She pulled away, sobbing, and ran.
Elisette didn’t realize her mouth was hanging open until the putrid taste of pond water coated her tongue and she snapped it shut. Of all the things she hadn’t expected…
A furious oath cut the air, and she looked up to see Eldrick, tears covering his own cheeks, picking up the stick he’d dropped and hurling it viciously into the pond.
It whistled through the air, right for Ellie’s head, and she dove deep, almost on instinct, unwilling to believe that he’d seen her, but also unwilling to endure a stick to the head. She stayed down out of caution, until she was sure the danger had passed and then rose slowly to the surface until only her eyes were peeking out once more.
She looked around. Eldrick was not where she’d left him, but there was a rustling sound in the grass that indicated he was still near. What could he be doing? Ellie floated nearer the edge, keeping a watchful eye out, and so was not exactly startled when Eldrick strode out of the brush towards the pond with a purposeful step.
What was he doing? Why was he… missing his shirt? Ellie had only a single shocked moment to realize that the second prince of Anura was unmistakably bare chested and barefoot before he lifted his arms, shut his eyes, and dove directly into her pond.
Prince Eldrick was in her pond. Without his shirt.
In the heat of her embarrassment, Ellie dove deep, thinking only of escaping the scandalous sight. But as it turned out, Prince Eldrick was quite an accomplished swimmer, and didn’t seem to care a whit that the water was dark and nasty and filled with worms and snails and other unmentionable things. He dove as deep as she did, and in the close confines of the pond, it was all she could do to keep away from him.
Finally, in desperation, she surfaced, swam to shore and hopped into a cluster of weeds. There she huddled into a slimy, miserable ball of shock and embarrassment while the prince took over her pond in order to vent his frustration.
Her pond. How had she come to feel so possessive so quickly?
And what kind of royal scandal had she just unwittingly discovered? If one could call it a scandal. Who would have guessed that the charming, caustic Prince Eldrick might be suffering the pangs of disappointed love?
Elisette wished a little wistfully that she could do something to help them. It didn’t seem fair that misguided prejudice was keeping them apart, but then, Eldrick wasn’t exactly blameless. Korine really ought to have slapped him for treating her with such carelessness.
But since Korine wasn’t there to slap him… Perhaps there actually was something she could do.
Anyone standing close enough would have heard an evil chuckle coming from a seemingly innocent patch of weeds, followed by a tiny plop and spreading ripples that indicated something had just slipped into the water.
Prince Cambren had finished feeding his horses and was strolling thoughtfully back towards the castle when he nearly ran into a dripping wet Eldrick, who was charging up the garden path with his shirt and boots in hand.
“What happened to you?” Cam enquired, a little nervously. There wasn’t much water out that direction, except for the pond where he’d left the frog.
“What does it look like?” Eldrick snapped. “I went for a swim. Also, there’s something nasty in that pond. I’ve never seen any fish in there before, but something kept brushing up against me.” He shuddered visibly.
“Probably just the result of letting it go for so long,” Cam said casually, controlling his urge to race back to the pond and make sure his frog was all right.
“Yes, well, I don’t like it. I’m going to ask the gardeners to clean the pond out immediately. I don’t like the idea of having snails in my hair just because I wanted a bit of a refreshing dip in the water.”
“Don’t do that!” Cambren insisted, a little too quickly and vehemently.
His brother shot him an odd look as he used his white silk shirt to mop at the water dripping down his neck. “Why ever not?” he demanded. “It’s not like anyone ever goes there anymore.”
“I just… I like it the way it is,” Cam said lamely. “It looks peaceful, and natural. I’d hate to turn it into something fake.”
Eldrick snorted. “Right. Because everything else around here is so genuine, isn’t it?” Slinging his wet shirt around his shoulders, Eldrick stalked away towards the palace, jaw set and fists clenched in unmistakable frustration.
Well, that was odd. What Cam most wanted to do was return to the pond and ensure that the frog was unharmed, but he resisted. First, he needed to hasten to the market and find out whether the frog’s advice would enable him to meet his father’s challenge. He could go back afterwards, to let the frog know of his success, or his failure.
And to see if his new friend might have any insights into Eldrick’s odd behavior.
Sadly, neither that evening nor the following morning went as Cambren expected. He did ride to the market, and found the fabric exactly as the frog advised. The proprietor at Sefton’s had been only too eager to show his more exotic wares when Cambren made it clear he was willing to purchase an entire bolt of the costly Peregorian silk.
Wincing a little at the price, Cambren charged it to the personal account he kept for his horse-related ventures, and returned to the palace, considerably poorer but confident that his father would not be disappointed. The silk rippled like water in the evening sun, and weighed almost nothing in his arms.
By the time he returned, his father had summoned him and his brothers to a family dinner, followed by a performance from a visiting troupe of actors. Cam yawned his way through the play, and decided to visit his friend in the morning, before the assembly.
But it was not to be. First thing in the morning, Dauntry took it upon himself to ensure that Cambren would be more suitably attired for their next appearance before the king. He called for his own personal tailor and valet, and insisted that Cambren be ruthlessly washed, brushed, ironed and nearly sewn into his jacket. Once Cam could barely move and his ceremonial sash had been starched mercilessly into submission, his brother declared him fit to be seen and hastened him down to the waiting room.
Their father did not keep them in suspense for long. Grim opened the door and escorted them down the long room to stand before the throne, where they bore the weight of hundreds of curious stares.
Three tables awaited them, under plain white covers. When the covers were swept away, each prince’s answer to the challenge was revealed. Cambren was deeply relieved to see two identical bolts of Peregorian silk. On the third table rested a riotous pile of brightly colored fabric, all in different weights and designs. There were perhaps twenty bolts in the stack, each one unique.
Glancing from Dauntry to Eldrick, Cambren tried to guess which of them would have gone so far in his attempt to win the challenge.
It wasn’t hard. Dauntry moved to stand beside the heavily laden table, his chin high and proud.
“Father, I have searched our markets and procured a sample of every type of silk known to the merchants there. It is my earnest hope that one of these will meet your requirements.”
Eldrick groaned under his breath.
“Thank you, my son,” the king said gravely. “And you, Eldrick?”
“Peregorian silk, Your Majesty,” Eldrick replied, his voice cool and clipped.
When it was clear he had nothing else to say, the king nodded.
“Cambren?”
“Yes, Father?” When the crowd chuckled, he blushed and hastened to explain. “I also have brought Peregorian silk.”
When Eldrick shot him a strange look, Cam just shrugged. His brother probably wanted to know how in the kingdoms he’d found out what to look for, but Cam wasn’t about to reveal his secrets. No one would believe him anyway.
“Then let us test your offerings, to determine which of you has won the first challenge.”
Scales were produced, and a tall scaffold with a metal ring at the top. The various tests were performed, and Cam was able to breathe easier when one of Dauntry’s contributions was discovered to also be the rare, spider-spun fabric. All three princes had passed the test.
“I am proud of you,” the king announced, looking down fondly on each of them. “As I hoped, you have discovered the importance of relying on your advisors and your people to supply the depth and breadth of knowledge that none of us can amass in a single lifetime. A king must know not only when to assert his authority, but when to submit to the greater wisdom of others.”
A murmur of approval passed through the crowd.
“And now,” the king said, “for the second challenge.”
Cambren tensed as he awaited his father’s words. The first had been bad enough. What else might his father have come up with that would leave his people muttering in confusion and the princes scratching their heads?
“As many of you recall, Queen Luna was very fond of animals. She adored kittens and birds and would rescue injured creatures of every type, from squirrels to bats to skinks.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd, and even the king smiled as his eyes began to mist over.
“But she never could reconcile herself to our beloved Anuran mastiffs.” Cambren could see a number of affirming nods. It was the reason there were still no dogs in the palace, even though every other house in the city probably had at least one. Cam himself had a dog that lived in the stables, but it was a floppy, medium-sized mutt of unknown descent. Not one of the giant, toothy, slobbering monsters that had so terrified his mother.
“In her memory, I present you, my sons, this second challenge. I would ask that you procure for me a dog that would have made your mother smile. It matters not what color, or how long its coat—all I ask is that it be small enough to sit in one of your mother’s favorite teacups.”
A shocked hush fell as the king held up a delicate, rose-painted cup no bigger than a woman’s fist.
“When three more days have passed,” King Lorne pronounced, “we will reassemble once more to see my sons’ answers to this challenge. Until then, my people, I wish you the very utmost of peace and good health. You are all dismissed.”
Cambren and Eldrick exchanged what was becoming a familiar glance of puzzlement and dismay. At least their father had explained the reasoning behind his first test, odd as it had been. What could possibly be his reason for this one?
Dauntry still stood beside his pile of silks, his head high, and Cam detected for the first time an almost worrisome light of determination in his brother’s eyes. Dauntry wanted nothing in the world so much as he wanted to win. He would, Cambren thought, do anything necessary to achieve that goal.
But what would that “anything” entail, and would it someday go too far?
“Has Father gone truly mad this time?” Eldrick grumbled to Cambren as they strode out of the throne room in their brother’s wake. “What is he thinking? This could take weeks, not days, if such a creature even exists.”
“No idea,” Cambren admitted. “Perhaps he simply misses Mother too much.”
“Well, I miss her too, but that doesn’t mean I want to fill the castle with a confounded menagerie just so I can imagine she’s still alive,” Eldrick growled under his breath.
Dauntry, fortunately, didn’t seem to hear them, but stalked off alone towards the front gates, already preoccupied with the new challenge.
Cambren and Eldrick shot each other one last, worried glance and went their separate ways. Eldrick vanished in the direction of his quarters, while Cambren limped to the stables, ripping off his sash and his formal jacket as he went. Both ended up abandoned on a pile of hay as he saddled a horse and headed for the pond at the back of the gardens.
“Frog?” he called, as soon as he dismounted at the edge of the water, looping his horse’s reins over a nearby branch. “Are you still here?”
“Where else would I be?” The peevish voice emerged from the mud a few feet away. “It’s not like I have anywhere to go, even when my home is invaded by completely scandalous displays of impropriety.”
“Oh?” Cam hid a grin and feigned ignorance. “What could possibly have happened all the way out here?”
“Your brother,” the frog informed him, “apparently goes about unclothed, throwing himself into ponds without bothering to see if they’re occupied.”
“In his defense,” Cam said, straight-faced, “you are a bit hard to see. If you didn’t announce your presence, how was he to know?”
“What was I supposed to do?” the frog retorted. “March up to Prince Eldrick and say, ‘Good sir, kindly refrain from removing your shirt, as there’s a frog in this pond who objects to your unnecessary display of manliness’?”
Cam couldn’t help laughing. “I can’t imagine that would have gone well.”
“No, I very much doubt your brother would be quite as accepting of my little problem as you are.”
Cam shrugged, and grinned sheepishly. “I suppose you’re right. It might be wiser to avoid him as much as possible.”
“Well, he won’t be swimming here again any time soon,” the frog announced. “I bit him.”
“You what?”
“It’s not as if I actually have normal teeth,” the frog muttered defensively. “And anyway, he deserved it for what he did to…” Its mouth snapped shut.
“To whom?” Cam asked, remembering his brother’s strange behavior the night before. “Did he do something to you before you were cursed? Or was there someone else?”
“Never mind,” the frog said hastily. “What happened this morning? Did you win the challenge?”
“I suppose we all did,” Cam said glumly, sitting in the grass at the edge of the pond. The frog hopped out of the mud and joined him.
“I know about Dauntry, but does Eldrick want to be king?” it asked, a little too innocently.
“I don’t know,” Cam admitted. “I guess we’ve never really talked about it. We always just expected that Dauntry would be the one to take Father’s place, so it never seemed to matter what we wanted. Why do you ask?”
“Hmph.” The frog huffed and shuffled in a little circle before settling into the grass. “I just have a feeling like there might be something he wants more. Maybe you should talk to him. Find out why he acts the way he does.”
“You know something.”
“Maybe,” the frog hedged, “but it’s not my secret to tell, so don’t even bother asking. What about you? Do you want to rule Anura?”
“No,” Cam said automatically, and it was true to a point. He had no desire to be king, or do the things his father had to do every day. He was content as he was. “But I’m starting to wonder whether I should want to.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, what if you’re right, and Eldrick doesn’t want it either, and Dauntry seems to want it too much?”
“How so?”
Cam had to think about it for a moment. “Lately he’s seemed almost desperate. As if he doesn’t know who he is without the crown in his future. I don’t know much about kingdoms, or ruling, but that doesn’t feel like a good thing.”
“I should think no
t,” the frog agreed. “And there are at least half a dozen dead philosophers who would agree with you.”
“Really?” Cam crossed his legs and pulled up a handful of grass stems. “I enjoy reading, but I confess I’ve never quite warmed to philosophy texts. I prefer science, travel, history, that sort of thing.”
“So do I.” The frog’s head seemed to droop. “At least, I did. I don’t suppose I’ll ever read any of them again.”
“You might.” Cam brightened at the idea. “You can still talk, it stands to reason you would still be able to read. I could bring you books from my own personal library if you like.”
The frog lifted one front foot and waved it in the air. “No thumbs,” it reminded him grumpily. “Plus, with my eyes on top of my head this way, I would have to hang upside down to see the words.”
“Then I’ll just have to read to you,” Cambren announced, not sure why he hadn’t thought of it before.
“You can’t do that,” the frog snapped, sounding scandalized. “You’re a prince, and your time is valuable. Whoever heard of a prince reading to a frog?”
“How is that any stranger than a prince talking to a frog?” Cam asked reasonably.
“Never mind strange. It just wouldn’t be right. If you give me that much of your time, we couldn’t be friends any more because we’d be out of balance.”
“Balance?” Cam echoed.
“There’s nothing I’ll ever be able to do for you,” the frog insisted. “About all I can manage is to get through a day without going mad with boredom. I have nothing to offer a prince.”
“You don’t offer me anything,” Cambren argued heatedly. “That’s not how a friendship works. And even if it was, don’t you realize you’ve already given me something incredibly valuable?”
“What’s that?” the frog scoffed.
“Not counting the gift of your conversation, you helped me give the gift of confidence to my father. He would have been terribly disappointed if we hadn’t met his first challenge, and I had no idea what to do.”
“You would have figured it out.”
A Beautiful Curse Page 8