Roland waited a respectful amount of time past dawn before he hopped back to Clara’s camp. To his surprise, she wasn’t there. Roland had a pretty good idea of where she went, and he didn’t like it. In all likelihood she’d gone back to the academy to find out more about the princess’ suitor and to figure out a way to get the princess to come back to the lake alone.
Roland felt a tinge of guilt that he hadn’t put more of an effort into his spying and had come back empty handed the day before. After his failure, Clara had clearly felt as though the burden were all on her shoulders. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He’d warned her not to go.
Roland crawled slowly back to the lake. He floated lazily throughout the morning and into the afternoon. He thought about how much he regretted not doing a better job spying and how he was going to make it up to Clara. He worried that she would be caught by the witch while she was at Westhaven.
Most of all, he missed her.
As the afternoon moved into evening, Roland’s introspective solitude was interrupted by a familiar sound. The princess and her minstrel friend had returned to the lake. Clara had obviously failed in her efforts to get the princess here alone, but now he had a chance to redeem himself. He would, at the very least, find out the name of the minstrel boy this time.
He took the same approach to the shore and hid in the reeds once again. The sound of ineptly plucked strings was already echoing off the lake. This song unfortunately had no singing that could distract him from the lack of mastery that the boy had over his instrument. The princess didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t seem to care. She stared at the minstrel boy entranced.
After what seemed like an eternity to Roland, the boy finally stopped playing. Apparently not discouraged by his earlier setbacks, the boy moved in for a kiss just as he had done the day before. This time, however, he found the princess’ lips ready and waiting.
Roland took a brief moment to ponder whether the boy’s playing was worse than watching the kiss. He decided that the kissing was worse, much worse. It was fortunate, Roland thought, that they hadn’t yet figured out how to do both at the same time. He plunged his head under the water to save himself from the unwelcome view.
***
Roland felt a surge of revulsion at the puckered face that neared his own. He held himself steady. As bad as this was, being a frog was far worse. The fleshy, hovering lips stopped and drew back at the last moment. Roland felt relief and disappointment at the same time.
“I don’t think I can do this,” said Princess Maxine, her jowls flapping as she spoke.
“I don’t think I can do this either,” said Roland. He hated being a frog, but there were other princesses in existence who could kiss him. He had standards, after all.
Roland was sitting on a fancy embroidered pillow on a desk in his father’s office. Princess Maxine sat in the king’s plush chair while Roland’s father, the king, and his magic advisor, Dergen, looked on. Like every room in his father’s castle, this one was designed to exude wealth. The walls were covered with bejeweled weaponry and other things befitting a ruler. Even the wood on the desk was covered in intricate designs.
“Enough complaining, both of you!” shouted the king.
At the king’s outburst Advisor Dergen, the king’s most trusted source of information for all things magical, took a nervous step backward.
“If you do not kiss him immediately, the deal is off,” the king growled at the princess. “I can only imagine how disappointed Lord Fellingsworth will be when he discovers that you are unable to repay the debt you owe to him.”
Roland chucked to himself a little. That wasn’t going to be a pretty scene. Princess Maxine’s face, bloated though it was, suddenly showed a look of determination. She puckered up and started towards Roland again. She closed her eyes, which Roland thought was a tremendously good idea, so he closed his as well. He felt squishy lips press up against his frog lips and he prepared himself to for his return to his human form.
Nothing happened.
“What is the problem!” shouted the king.
Princess Maxine stood up and took a step back, putting some distance between herself and Roland. “I’m not kissing it again.”
The king glared at Advisor Dergen. “Why didn’t it work?”
“I can’t be completely sure,” Dergen said, his voice wavering with anxiety, “but the most likely explanation is that the curse is simply too strong. For some curses a kiss from a princess isn’t good enough.”
“Well, what is good enough, then?” the king asked.
“True love’s kiss, your majesty,” replied Dergen.
Roland’s heart sank. It was one thing to bribe a princess to plant a kiss on his hideous frog face. It was quite another to have a woman fall in love with him.
The king’s poisoned stare settled on Roland. “How could you do this to me? You were supposed to be my heir. You were supposed to make me proud.”
Roland’s mouth fell open. He didn’t know what to say. He was quite sure he was the victim in all of this. It was so obviously the case that he hadn’t even bothered to think about an appropriate defense to the words his father had just uttered. He was still struggling to come up with an answer as his father stormed out of the room. Advisor Dergen followed closely behind.
“I kept up my end of the deal. I want what’s coming to me!” Princess Maxine yelled as she ran after them.
The room emptied, except for Roland who was left alone to ponder the hopelessness of his curse.
***
Roland awakened from his memory to a silent lake and a sinking sun. A quick glance at the shore told him that Princess Adela and her suitor had left for the night. Not that it mattered. The princess couldn’t help him. No matter what plan he and Clara had dreamt up to get a kiss from the princess, in the end, it would have been for nothing.
As he made his way to Clara’s camp to tell her what he had remembered, he felt it was the most difficult journey of his life. He considered putting off telling her for a few days. Enjoy just a little bit more time pretending that there was still hope, not just for his humanity but for Clara’s redemption, as well.
But Clara deserved the truth. She had never given him any less.
He reached Clara’s camp to find it empty. It made him nervous that she wasn’t back yet. Probably just waiting for nightfall to travel the roads, he reassured himself. He sat himself down in the middle of the camp to wait for her.
It was torturous, waiting for Clara. His mind was haunted by the dangers that could have befallen her at the academy. And then even if it turned out that she was fine, he was going to have to tell her that their plans were all for nothing.
Roland began to pace restlessly, hopping back and forth across the camp. As the moon rose higher into the blackness overhead, his fears rose with it. She should be back by now. Even if she had waited until dark to make the journey, she should be back.
By the time midnight came, Roland could no longer convince himself that Clara was simply biding her time. Something was very wrong. Now, he was faced with a choice, and he made it quickly. He looked up at the spire over the School of Battle Magic burning in the night sky.
He knew where he must go.
CHAPTER 10
It was only after Roland had started hopping towards the academy that he began to second guess himself. The academy was a long way for a frog, even an overgrown one like himself. He was going to have a hard time getting there before sunrise, and if the sun came up, he was going to have a hard time getting around unnoticed. And even if he did manage to get there and slip into the School of Battle Magic without being seen, how was he going to find Clara? And even if he did find Clara, what did he think he was going to do? He was a frog, after all. A helpless, pathetic frog.
Roland found all of these reasons to turn back to be very good ones. There was only one reason to keep going: Clara needed him. If, indeed, she was captured, he was the only one who would miss her. He was the
only one who could help her. To Roland, this one reason easily outweighed the others.
He put his head down and concentrated on hopping faster. It was somewhat disheartening how quickly his legs began to burn under the exertion, but he did his best to ignore the pain. He looked up at the spire and saw that it seemed to be somewhat closer than before. He put his head down and hopped faster.
Roland made better time than he had guessed. He only stopped twice to catch his breath, each time certain he was going to die from exhaustion, and each time starting up again after a short break with renewed determination. By the time he reached the gates of the academy, dawn was still a couple of hours away.
It was a tight fit, but he was able to force himself between the bars on the gate. He looked up at the burning spire one last time. From the courtyard of the academy, it looked far larger and more terrifying than it had back at the lake. He swallowed hard and headed right for it.
His timing was perfect to cross the courtyard undetected. The last of the night owls had emptied out and the early risers had not yet made their appearance. A few hops later and Roland found himself at the foot of the School of Battle Magic. Its black metal doors loomed above him at the top of a stone staircase.
The stairs were not a problem; he scaled them easily with some quick jumps. The next obstacle, however, reminded him of how limited he was in his frog form. Even simple tasks such as opening a door were a challenge for him now. He jumped up towards the handle and managed to bump his head on it. After rubbing his bruised skull for a few seconds, he adjusted his trajectory and jumped again. This time he managed to cling to the door handle and dangle for a while before falling to the ground. He tried again and this time he grabbed on, but wasn’t able to hold on quite as long since his forelegs were getting tired. He plopped to the ground in a heap to catch his breath.
Footsteps behind him made Roland turn around. He found himself looking directly up at a very confused student, a blond girl with dark circles under her green eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came.
“Since you’re obviously trying to sneak in here without being noticed, perhaps we can do each other a favor,” said Roland. “You open this door for me, and I promise not to tell anyone that you came back at such a late hour.”
The girl screamed and ran.
It was only then that Roland realized how terrified a talking frog must be to the uninitiated. He should avoid any further conversation with the students if at all possible, he decided. He turned his attention back to the getting through the door.
Before he had a chance to think up a new plan, he heard footfalls coming from behind the door. Roland dove to the side as the door swung open. An older man with a dark beard and round glasses, possibly an instructor, emerged.
“Is everything OK?” the man asked no one in particular, since the screaming girl was long gone.
Had the instructor looked down at that moment he would have noticed a very large frog scooting behind him and into the building, but he didn’t look down. He just stared into the distance until he was satisfied that nothing was going on, at least nothing he couldn’t safely ignore, and then he went back inside. He’d done his duty, he thought, no need to interrupt his sleep further by dwelling on a sound that was probably his imagination anyway.
Roland pressed into the shadows near the wall until the instructor disappeared from sight. He found himself at the beginning of a long corridor with doors at regular intervals as far as the eye could see. A staircase to his right provided the means for traveling between floors. The space was dimly lit by flickering lanterns, dousing the hallway in a haunted glow.
It was a familiar sight to Roland. It had been in this very building that he’d made a name for himself at Westhaven. He searched his memory for some clues as to where he might find Clara. Behind each door in this hallway, he remembered, he would find a classroom filled with desks, and a blackboard covered with academic scribblings. It made Roland happy that he’d been able to recall this fact until he realized that Clara was unlikely to be in one of the classrooms. Up the stairs were the dormitories, which, even if he hadn’t been able to remember, he could have deduced through the sound of footsteps and laughter above his head. Clara wasn’t going to be there, either. Down the stairs he would find the offices of the instructors as well as their residences. Roland turned to his right and headed down the stairs.
Roland tried to remember the office number that belonged to Erysande. It was surely a detail that his human self had once known. He found that it was here that his memory let him down. Fortunately however, the offices were labeled with names. He hopped up and down the hallway, checking each doorway until, when he’d almost exhausted the possibilities, he found one with Erysande’s name on it. Instead of Instructor of Battle Magic, as he’d known her, her title was now Dean of the School of Battle Magic. A title no doubt won through her dark deeds, Roland thought. He leaped and grabbed hold of the handle, and found that the door was once again locked. He managed to pull himself on top of the handle to look inside the office. Inside was a desk, kept meticulously clean, a single chair, but no sign of any living creature. Unless there was some sort of secret chamber inside the office, Clara wasn’t in there.
Roland decided to look for Erysande’s residence. He kept moving until he reached the hallway that contained the doors to the living quarters of the staff. These ones weren’t labeled with names, but it seemed logical to Roland that Erysande would have the largest one since she was the dean now. The hallway ended with a doorway that was more ornate than the others. Roland pressed his ear to the wood. Inside he heard faint noises, as though something was moving inside, and then he heard what sounded like the call of a crow.
This was it. It had to be. It was the witch’s home and it contained her menagerie, and somewhere among them was Clara. He jumped for the door handle, managed to grab it with is frog toes, and to his surprise, the door swung open.
He half expected to he struck down by the witch as soon as he entered, but thankfully the apartment appeared to be vacant, though a few torches illuminated it with the same flickering light that had been in the hallways. The front room was a lavish living area with richly upholstered sofas and embroidered pillows. Roland sunk into the thick rug as he moved through the space. His ears told him that the witch’s victims that he was looking for were still ahead, so he kept going.
He went through a narrow wooden door at the back of the living area, and here he saw what he’d been trying to find. The room he had entered was filled with cages. Inside each cage was an animal that had no doubt once been human. Rats, crows, dogs, cats, lizards, bats, all manner of beasts were found in the witch’s collection.
One of these beasts had to be Clara, Roland was sure. If it was true, then he could help her. He would figure out which one of beasts was Clara, and then he would kiss her. He could help her even if it wasn’t enough that he happened to be a prince. If there was one thing that Roland knew, it was that he loved Clara. He’d first suspected that this might be the case when he’d so readily left the comfort of the lake to come looking for Clara. Standing here now, knowing that his search hadn’t been in vain, he had never been more sure of anything in his life.
He was almost equally certain that she did not love him in return, but it hardly mattered to him then and there. He would save her, and prove to himself once and for all that he was no longer the arrogant boy who’d found it easy to be cruel.
If Clara was among the menagerie, her curse was new. Roland recalled that he had been able to speak when he’d first been cursed. He had only lost the ability to speak and forgotten his former life after he’d lost hope and accepted his fate.
“Clara?” he whispered. When no answer game, he spoke again, louder this time, “Clara? It’s me, Roland.”
He watched as the animals in cages either stirred restlessly or gave him blank stares. All except for one. A large snake with its mouth tied shut tapped its head on the metal bars that made up its cage.
“Clara, is that you?” the frog asked the snake.
Unmistakably, the snake nodded.
Roland’s heart skipped a beat. He jumped on top of the nearest cage, only to jump down again to avoid the claws of an enormous cat. A quick survey of the cages told him that there wasn’t a way to get to Clara without passing near a dangerous creature. He gulped, then he jumped up again. A swift sidestep let him avoid the worst of the cat’s attack, but the cat’s claws still raked along his foot. He clenched his jaw as the pain came, and willed himself to continue.
A door slammed behind him. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. As he staggered to his feet he heard the sound of familiar laughter.
“I’d so hoped that you’d come to join us. I even left the door unlocked for you. My collection hasn’t been complete without you,” said Erysande.
Roland froze with fear. Even when he’d had his powers, he’d been helpless against this woman. Now here he was, facing her again, but this time he had nothing. He sunk down to the floor, trying to look small.
Erysande laughed again. She didn’t even bother to incapacitate him; she simply walked over and picked him up off the ground.
“I’ve got your new home waiting for you,” Erysande purred.
The witch began walking towards one of the empty cages. Roland knew his window of opportunity to save Clara was closing fast. He was her only hope, and here he was simply giving up and accepting defeat. But what could he possibly hope to do against a witch? He was a weak, pathetic, slimy frog. Very, very slimy, he realized. Very slimy, indeed.
In a burst of motion, Roland pushed off of Erysande’s body with his hind legs. Sure enough, his slimy skin easily slipped through her arms. Roland’s sudden movement caused the witch to fall backward and she howled with rage.
With another leap Roland was back among the cages, climbing as fast as he could to reach Clara. A fireball went racing for his head. Roland was forced to let go of the bars and drop to avoid being burned alive. He caught himself on the bars of one of the cages before he fell too far. Roland’s heart raced. He had almost forgotten that Erysande was a master of battle magic as well and a transmogrifier. He began climbing again. The next fireball wasn’t well aimed, crashing into the wall well away from him so he ignored it and kept climbing.
A Kiss to Break the Spell Page 6