by K. M. Shea
As a result, Lucien was doomed to retain Henry until one of them died of old age—for the moment he dismissed him, it was certain Severin would hire him on as a second valet. Burke’s job was already difficult enough; he didn’t need two broody soldiers trying to militarize Severin’s wardrobe, so Henry stayed with Lucien.
Lucien croaked. I am so self-sacrificing. He watched the two Arcainian Princesses who had come stroll around a large pond arm-in-arm. Arcainia certainly has no lost love for me. Perhaps the younger princess could break this spell.
For a moment, Lucien wanted to growl in anger.
None of this was fair.
His father insisted on treating him like a child; Severin—though well meaning—thought he couldn’t be trusted with his own welfare; Elle implied he could do better and now he was a frog? Even the thought that he required Henry to dump water on him was maddening.
How dare they decide my intelligence level? He silently stewed. I am a dunce compared to them. I wish they would all realize that and leave me alone!
He moodily waddled towards the edge of the cushion. The only thing I’m good for is socializing. I should be down there, flattering and winking. But instead I’m a frog!
Lucien angrily slapped the cushion with his moist front legs. This unfortunately made the cushion tilt alarmingly forward and tumble straight out of the window.
Lucien slid off the pillow as they were both airborne. He tried to yell, but all he could do was release a massive croak. Curse this wretched frog form! He thought as he continued to fall, hurtling towards the unforgiving ground.
Ariane paused, perking her ears when she thought she heard a tremendous splat. A glance around the gardens seemed to show that no one else had noticed or heard it, for the representatives’ chatter continued, and none of the other servants paused or turned in the direction of the sound.
I must have imagined it. Ariane squared her shoulders and carried a platter layered with delicious pastries through the fragrant gardens. The air smelled sweet with flowers, and the sun was quite warm—making Ariane extra glad her hair was firmly tucked up in a braid—as she marched for the gazebo perched against the pond’s side. She was surprised when one of the representatives—a tall, bronze-skinned beauty who had unusually beautiful blue and green swirled eyes—perked at the sight of her.
“More food!” the representative declared. “Come, Cagney. We need pastries.” The tall woman grabbed a much shorter, stricter-looking woman who wore her hair in a severe bun and followed Ariane with enthusiasm.
Ariane carefully placed her burden on the table one of the footmen had set up in the gazebo. The representative pounced on the tray and held a pastry in each hand as she leaned over the side of the gazebo and eyed the pond. “This looks deep. I wonder if I could bring my kelpie here to swim.”
“No,” her companion said firmly.
“You are right—it has lily pads and other decorative flowers. I should ask permission first,” the representative said as she snagged two more pastries from the tray.
“I do not think bringing your ornery—and possibly dangerous—pet into a garden filled with people is a safe idea.”
Ariane curtsied to the women and slipped from the gazebo—intending to hurry off and get another tray. Based on that representative’s healthy appetite, perhaps I should warn the kitchens we’ll need more…
“Oh—my ball!”
Ariane swiveled in time to see the golden ball Princess Sylvie had been holding bounce into the pond. The young princess looked aghast. As she had recently entered her teenage years, she had abandoned most of her toys, but Ariane knew from her time in the palace that Princess Sylvie was still fond of her ball.
“That’s too bad,” a pretty, golden-haired young woman said as she joined the younger princess on the shore of the pond. “But fret not. We can ask a gardener for a rake—or better yet, if I could just borrow a guard’s polearm…”
Ariane rushed forward at the offer. “I will retrieve it, Your Highness,” she said, guessing the foreign woman’s title.
“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” the foreign lady said—a slightly thick accent colored her words. “I briefly trained in polearms with the Verglas army before coming here. I should be able to handle the weight.”
“Please, allow me.”
Ariane turned around just as a giant frog hopped out of a hedge. Is that…?
The foreign lady frowned down at the frog. “There appear to be more talking animals in the world than I would have estimated.”
Princess Sylvie smiled. “Oh, he’s not a talking animal—that’s my brother, Prince Lucien.”
It’s close enough, Ariane thought traitorously.
“Prince Lucien,” the golden-haired woman repeated. Her open expression was replaced with a more serene and controlled look.
Prince Lucien attempted to bow, and instead nearly flopped over. “At your service, Queen Linnea of Verglas.”
She’s a queen? Darn it—I should have called her Your Majesty. Ariane started to edge backwards. But now for the kitchens.
“Fear not, darling sister, I shall fetch your ball!” Lucien continued.
“Thank you, Lucien,” Princess Sylvie clapped.
“Forgive my curiosity, Prince, but why are you in the form of a frog?” Queen Linnea asked.
“It is a long story,” the frog prince said. “But please allow me to ask—Princess Astra of Baris is not yet spoken for, yes?”
Ariane rolled her eyes and would have stepped away and completely disengaged from the scene, but she caught sight of Princess Sylvie leaning over the pond, straining to reach the ball.
“Please, Princess. Allow me.” Ariane hurriedly slipped out of her shoes and stepped into the surprisingly cold pond before the princess could fall in.
“Oh, thank you!” Princess Sylvie awkwardly folded her hands together and smiled.
This isn’t so bad, Ariane thought as she waded in nearly up to her shins. The bottom of the pond was pebbled, so only sand and bits of rock squelched between her toes. Furthermore, though the water was cold enough to make Ariane break out in goosebumps, it was quite clear. Another example of Chanceux Chateau’s superior gardens. I wonder why that is—is Princess Elle a great lover of flowers?
She swiped up the ball—which floated on top of the water—and shook it off. She meticulously wiped it down with the top part of her apron as she waded back to shore, and pulled off a soggy weed that clung to the golden surface.
Princess Sylvie waited as Ariane cleaned the ball, though she glanced around the grotto with a somewhat awed expression.
Ariane smiled fondly at the princess’ joy, but almost snorted when she heard Prince Lucien’s arrogant tones.
“Of course, I’m not afraid of a few rogue mages. But I did not want to worry my brother, so here I am, a frog.”
“I see,” Queen Linnea said, utterly lacking enthusiasm.
Perhaps the Lady Enchantress was right. A frog does suit him.
“Personally, I think this whole scheme is a bit silly,” Prince Lucien continued. “Yes, there has been an increase in rogue magic and monsters, but it’s hardly a continent-wide threat. Moreover, each country should be responsible for themselves.”
Ariane bit her tongue to keep her face blank. Though she admittedly did not know how bad things were outside of Loire, she knew his words were stupid and selfish. He cannot mean that. He cannot be so thoughtless when his brother—whom he depends on—was cursed!
Lucien continued, “Instead, we should celebrate the more important things in life—like love!”
…No, he can’t be searching for a girl to break his spell. Not now.
“Which brings me to an important point! Besides Princess Astra, which of the ladies present do you know are single and unattached?”
Something in Ariane broke, and before she could think, she threw Princess Sylvie’s golden ball at Prince Lucien with all her might, squashing his frog body into the ground. “I am so sorry, Your Highness!�
� She said with a false gasp. “It slipped from my hands—how clumsy of me!”
Lucien croaked into the ground, and his back leg twitched.
Princess Sylvie swiped her ball, then returned to her brother and laid a hand on the lump that was most likely his head. “Lucien, are you all right?”
Lucien finally peeled himself off the ground. “Yes, I’m fine. That was just a silly ball—it couldn’t possibly hurt me.”
Queen Linnea raised an eyebrow. “It completely flattened you.”
“Maybe the barber-surgeon should inspect you,” Princess Sylvie said.
I have to get out of here! Hit by a bolt of inspiration, Ariane executed a quick curtsy. “I shall fetch Henry.” Before anyone could protest, she turned on her heels and hurried away from the scene of her crime. That was stupid of me. I can’t believe I allowed myself to lose my temper over his ridiculous words. I could lose my position for this!
Unease bubbled in Ariane’s stomach as she slipped out of the gardens and into the castle. My only solace is that Lucien’s self-centered vanity means he is incapable of telling one palace maid from the next. As such, I might be safe.
How wrong she was.
Lucien lay in the dirt in Severin’s garden, still stunned. The ball hadn’t really hurt—nor had the three-story fall from his window. It seemed the Lady Enchantress’ belief in her “indestructible small animal” spell was not misplaced. But that wasn’t what stunned him.
It was the nerve of the feisty maid who had smacked him with Sylvie’s ball. I may pretend to be an idiot, but even I am not so simple-minded as to truly believe she hit me by accident.
He glanced at the representatives—Queen Linnea had left with Sylvie shortly after the maid had fled—and then hopped to the side of the path, resting beneath the branches of a shrubbery.
He had recognized the maid—it was the same spider-terrorizer who had taken out the male rogue mage, Ariane. If she doesn’t hesitate to attack a mage, I can’t say it’s surprising she would take a whack at me.
A thoughtful croak escaped from his throat. She is one of those palace maids Elle alluded to…. But even I’m not confident enough in my skills of wooing to believe I can con a harpy like her into loving me. Some ladies pretend to dislike me because they are secretly offended I do not pay them particular attention. But this maid, Ariane…I get the distinct impression she would be perfectly happy to see me disappear. Lucien blinked, then shuddered in horror when a transparent eyelid flicked across his eyes. Yes. It would be far too much work to woo her. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make her miserable in retribution for her little ball trick. I will not be the only one to suffer!
Lucien crawled out of the bush and made a beeline for a footman standing nearby.
It was time to pay his brother and sister-in-law a visit.
Chapter 3
The Escort-Bait
Ariane absentmindedly polished her smooth, empty wooden tray with her white apron as she marched back to the kitchens. I can't believe I just delivered a plate of fish to a talking cat.
Magic cats weren't even half of it. The Selkie Princess Dylan had brought a kelpie—a water horse. Ariane was hoping she would be given a chance to glance at the mythical creature at some point during the Summit. When I heard the representatives talking about the kelpie yesterday I thought it was a joke, but to think someone tamed one!
“Ariane?”
Ariane whirled around and smiled at Marcelle. “Yes? Is something wrong?”
Marcelle shook her head. “Not at all. It is merely that Prince Severin and Princess Elle request your presence in the prince's private study.”
Ariane's blood turned into ice in her veins. “What?” She asked with numb lips.
“Come.” Marcelle grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along. “We must hurry. Tonight's dinner marks the start of the Summit, and Bernadine and Heloise want all the help they can get.”
Ariane let Marcelle drag her through the twisting corridors of the chateau. This is it. My impulsive pettiness is going to get me sacked—or worse. I'm certain I can be put to trial for hitting a member of the royal family, even if he is an indestructible frog.
She barely noticed when Marcelle stopped in front of a wooden door and knocked.
“Come in,” a deep voice rumbled.
Marcelle opened the door and stood to the side. “Ariane, Your Highness. As you requested.”
“Thank you, Marcelle,” Princess Elle said. “Ariane, please, come in!”
Ariane inched into the study, nearly jumping when Marcelle closed the door behind her. She barely noticed the beautiful bookshelves and the intricate maps that were pinned all across the walls. A large desk took up a great portion of the floor space, and seated in the chair directly behind it was Prince Severin—the master tactician and commanding general of Loire. Princess Elle lounged on an overstuffed armchair near him, cuddling a large black cat. “Your Highness, Your Highness,” Ariane murmured as she curtsied to the pair.
“I see. Now you show proper respect,” an irritating voice croaked.
It took Ariane several seconds before she noticed Lucien, propped on a velvet cushion on Prince Severin's desk. Though Ariane felt the blood drain from her face, she forced herself to curtsy to him as well.
“Yes,” Prince Lucien said. “This is her, the viper-like maid who smashed me with Sylvie's ball and fought off the male rouge mage.”
Ariane, surprised by his observation, nearly frowned. It was not completely out of the question that he remembered her from that morning's incident, but she was rather shocked he recalled she was the same maid who had been present during the attempt on his life.
Princess Elle tickled her cat's chin. “If she hit you with a ball, I am certain you deserved it.”
Prince Lucien snorted, which sounded more like a croak.
“Have no fear, Ariane,” Princess Elle continued. “We are not here to censure you for a moment of clumsiness.” Based on the sly light in the princess's eyes, Ariane was almost certain she knew she had done it on purpose.
Not knowing what to say, Ariane wished she had a cleaning cloth she could clutch. “Thank you, your Highness.”
Surprisingly, it was Prince Severin who picked up the reins of the conversation next. “We called you here to make a request. As one of three who were present for the attack on Lucien, you are already aware of the threat to his life.” He held her gaze and seemed to expect some kind of reply. He was quite intimidating with his dark, cat-like gaze, so Ariane was quick to nod. “Lucien was turned into a frog for his own protection, and with the caliber of spells Lady Enchantress Angelique has placed upon him, I'm quite confident he will be safe for the duration of the Summit. However, it is likely that our enemies—whoever they are—will still try to attack him. Our request to you is this: please share escort duties with Lucien's valet, Henry, and remain with Lucien during the Summit's meetings and meals.”
Princess Elle smiled as her cat placed a black paw on her chin. “We're hoping to catch whoever is doing this, you see. We wish to lull them into a false sense of compliance. They would be on their guard against a squadron of soldiers, but against a maid and a valet?” Elle shrugged.
Ariane looked from Severin to Elle. What they mean is, I will be bait. The assassins are far more likely to attack Lucien —who is protected by his spell—when a mere maid is carrying him about. That means, however, my safety will be precarious at best.
As if he could read her thoughts, Severin added. “We will have guards assigned to you. However, they shall remain out of sight and will act only if a situation requires it. We must catch whoever is doing this—not only to guarantee Lucien's safety, but also because it is possible we may be able to question them about the uneasy situation in which our continent has found itself.”
Yes. I'm definitely bait. Ariane drew her shoulders back. But I likely deserve it for my mistreatment of the prince, and they could certainly ask me to do worse. “It would be my honor, though I must say that
I don't possess many fighting skills and would be unable to protect Prince Lucien should we be attacked again.”
Elle carelessly swiped a hand through the air. “That won't be a problem. Severin would never let his dear brother walk around unprotected. Isn't that right, Lucien?”
“We will remain in the Chateau.” Lucien’s froggy throat swelled and deflated with each breath he took. “I don’t understand what any of you think will happen. It’s not like rogue mages will pop out of the evening pudding and attempt to shoot me down between the dessert and tea.”
Ariane was not much comforted by this thought. She had, after all, been present when he was attacked in the palace.
“We thank you for your cooperation,” Prince Severin said.
“Naturally, you’ll be excused from all other duties during this time,” Princess Elle said. “Heloise and the other servants will be informed. Instead of reporting to them in the morning, you should go to Lucien’s room and bring him down for breakfast.”
“I am not a toddler,” Lucien said. “I will not be brought anywhere!”
“Indeed,” Severin said. “You’ll merely be carried.” His comment got a squawk from his frog brother, but he ignored it and continued to study Ariane with glittering eyes. “Your duties will begin tonight with the dinner meal that is the mark of the informal start of the Summit. Retrieve Lucien from his room and stay with him for the duration of the meal.”
“We dine in the banquet hall tonight,” Princess Elle added as her cat purred.
“I understand,” Ariane said.
“Excellent! We thank you for your service, Ariane,” Princess Elle said.
Ariane curtsied and slipped from the room, painfully aware that Lucien’s froggy eyes followed her every move. When she shut the door behind herself, she briefly leaned against the frame. Well. That will teach me to act out. What, in the name of all things, have I gotten myself into?
Later that evening, Ariane, dressed in a beautiful new gown Princess Elle had provided for her, knocked on the door to Lucien's chamber. She impatiently shook her head when some of her dark hair brushed her cheek—at Princess Elle’s insistence, Ariane had left her hair down rather than braid it as she dearly wanted to. When it hangs about my face like this, it reminds me of unlaundered curtains!