The Frog Prince (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 9)

by K. M. Shea

  Ariane turned around and felt her blood turn cold.

  At least two hundred hairy spiders the size of Ariane’s palm crawled across the garden grounds. Their limbs moved jerkily—as if they were manipulated puppets—but the angry click of their teeth was audible over Ariane’s gasps for air.

  The male mage used her distracted shock to grab Ariane by the throat with a shadow, cutting off her air and dragging her to the ground.

  She tried to scramble away from him, but he used shadows to hold her arms and legs flush against the soft grass, though he eased up on the shadows squeezing her throat. Wait, does he mean for me to… Ariane lifted her head up and felt her bones chill as the spiders continued to scuttle in her direction.

  He was securing her to the ground for the spiders to finish off.

  “Release her!” Lucien demanded as he hopped back in their direction.

  Ariane tried to shout at the idiot—who was choosing an awful time to show off his honorable side—but it was still too hard to breathe.

  The male mage sneered as he scooped Lucien up with his shadows, then squeezed him.

  Lucien’s head bulged as the shadows tightened around his body like a noose, until the pressure was too much, and he popped out of the snaring magic and was sent flying through the air. He hit the male mage on the side of the head and bit his ear.

  The rogue mage shouted and flung him away.

  Lucien landed on the ground with a splat, but he peeled himself off the ground with a cough. “Ariane!”

  “Lucien!” Ariane screamed as the first of the spiders reached her. She could feel them crawling across her ankles, and she picked her head off the ground to watch several hairy, bloated spiders climb on top of her arms, the coarse hair of their bodies prickling her skin.

  Ariane could handle dirt, rogue mages, and being flung around like a ragdoll. She couldn’t handle spiders. She screamed and writhed, trying to pull free of the shadows that anchored her to the ground.

  Sharp, stinging pain rippled up her arms as the spiders bit her, drawing more screams.

  Lucien tried to hop in her direction, but the male mage had recovered enough to grab Lucien by a back leg. Lucien thrashed wildly. “Ariane! Blast it—where are the guards?!”

  “Here, Your Highness.”

  The male mage turned around, but he was too slow, as a guard nimbly glided forward and jabbed the pommel of his sword into the mage’s throat. The guard expertly caught Lucien when the mage dropped him to grasp his throat, and two other guards lunged forward. One planted his foot on the mage’s chest while the other crouched and held a sword to his throat.

  Ariane’s fear would have lessened with the guards’ arrival, but the spiders kept coming. She screamed as they bit her, starting to move up her legs now. Guards moved around her, trying to stomp or spear the creatures, but they were fast and angry.

  “Get the mage controlling them!” Lucien snapped as he tried to crawl out of the arms of the soldier who was struggling to hold him.

  “Hold up there, the twins are on the case!” A merry male voice called.

  “Clear!” Mage Firra leaped from the chateau window, her hand extended and her eyes glowing.

  Blue flames roared to life, spreading whenever the spiders crawled, instantly incinerating them.

  The fire mage flicked her fingers at Ariane, and precise little balls of flame smashed into the spiders that crawled over her, gathering the spiders up and burning them to a crisp.

  “Don’t burn her!” Lucien called. He wriggled in a soldier’s grasp.

  The bug mage snarled and took a breath, but Mage Donaigh appeared behind her and held a sword against her throat. “Ah-ah,” he said. “We can’t have you attacking with more nasty creepy crawlies.”

  Mage Firra jogged to Donaigh’s side and shoved a balled-up handkerchief in the bug mage’s mouth. She then used the bandage the mage had over her eyes to tie the gag in place. “That’s one pest sorted,” she said.

  “All thanks to us twins,” Mage Donaigh said. “Wouldn’t you agree, captain?” he called to the leader of the guards.

  “You two aren’t twins,” the captain grumbled.

  “How can you say that?” Blonde-haired Donaigh demanded as dark-haired Firra recoiled.

  “Your Highness, stop squirming,” a soldier said.

  “Then someone check on Ariane!” Lucien snapped.

  The shadows holding Ariane to the ground dissolved when a guard slammed his hilt into the mage’s head, and he instantly fell unconscious. She groaned. The spider bites stung worse than expected, and her muscles felt heavy and gelatinous. I don’t think I can get up…

  A soldier knelt next to her. “She’s been bit. At least a dozen times.”

  “Donaigh—get one of the healing mages. I’ll handle this.” Mage Firra grabbed the bug mage by the back of her neck and held up a hand that was engulfed with flames as she smiled unpleasantly at the mage. Donaigh nodded and was gone in an instant.

  “Perimeter is secure, Your Highness!” Another soldier reported.

  “Put me down!” Lucien demanded.

  Ariane shifted on the ground and groaned.

  Lucien abruptly hopped into view, settling a finger’s width away from her head. “Ariane, are you all right?”

  “These bites hurt a lot,” she said. “And I feel a little numb.”

  “Donaigh has war magic—the speed kind. He’ll be back in a moment,” Mage Firra said, though the pitch of her voice still sounded concerned.

  “Why didn’t you run away, you little idiot?” There was no sting to Lucien’s words. Instead, he sounded almost pained.

  “They could have hurt you,” Ariane said.

  “I’m an indestructible frog!”

  “You don’t have to be anymore.” Ariane raised her arms to inspect them. The bites speckled her skin and were already swollen. “The threat has been caught.”

  “Are you feverish? I think she’s feverish!” Lucien shouted as he planted a foot on her forehead.

  Ariane slightly shook her head. “I’m not that bad, yet.” Her mind was a little scrambled—most likely a mixture of the spider bites and the adrenaline that still coursed through her system.

  She was glad Lucien was safe—and not just safe for the moment, but safe enough to become human again. “I’ll miss dragging your frog carcass around.”

  “You’re not going to die!” Lucien said in a tight voice.

  “Of course, I’m not,” Ariane snorted. “Do you know how inglorious it would be if I was killed by a bunch of spiders? I chase spiders out of the palace as part of my duties! I meant when you’re human again.”

  “That still won’t be for a while. I have to wait for Angelique to get back to amend that,” Lucien said tightly.

  Ariane lolled her head to one side. I should change him back, she decided in her slightly addled thoughts. It would be for the best. There is no sense in dragging this out. “No, you can be a prince again right now.” She ignored his squawk as she picked him up and kissed him on the top of his froggy nostrils.

  Silver wrapped around Lucien’s frog body, glittering like distant stars. The light expanded, growing larger and larger, until it split, and Lucien—back in his regular human body—fell directly on top of Ariane.

  In hindsight, I probably should have not held him over me when I kissed him, Ariane mused as his sudden weight once again squeezed all the air from her lungs. This is rather uncomfortable and less delightful than one would think.

  “Your Highness!” a soldier shouted.

  Lucien planted his hands on either side of Ariane’s head and boosted himself up. He still wore the same clothes he had been in when Ariane saw him cursed—though they were markedly rumpled, and the puff of his petticoat breeches was entirely flattened—but his hair was in disarray and his eyes were wide with something akin to concern or worry instead of narrowed with that cocky sneer he used to wear.

  He abruptly stood. “I’m human,” he blinked.

  “See?
I said you were smart,” Ariane said. She yelped when Lucien squatted down at her side and picked her up.

  “Where’s that mage?” he shouted.

  “We’re here!” Donaigh called from the window—a small, round man peering over his shoulder.

  “My quarters, now!” Lucien thundered.

  “Your Highness—one of the salons would be closer,” a guard offered.

  “Don’t squeeze so hard,” Ariane sourly demanded when he tightened his grip on her legs and her back.

  “Show the way,” Lucien ordered.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Ariane grimaced as the pain in her arms grew, even as the tingling sensation spread through her body. I’m glad I came here, she thought as she glanced up at Lucien’s face—which was tightened in a grim expression. And I’m glad I had the chance to meet the frog prince. Darkness swamped Ariane’s vision. She tried to fight it before giving in and falling unconscious.

  Lucien fidgeted—switching back and forth between pacing and running his hands through his messy hair as he watched Ariane.

  Pale and unconscious, she was splayed out over a settee, and the mage with healing magic knelt at her side.

  “She’s going to be fine, Your Highness,” the mage said without turning around.

  “You said that a quarter of an hour ago, and she still hasn’t awakened,” Lucien said.

  The portly mage turned around and gave Lucien a flat, unimpressed stare. “My magic is still purging the venom in her body. Right now, rest is the best thing for her. It’s a good sign.”

  Lucien nodded and tried to rub some of the stiffness out of the back of his neck.

  He always thought he knew what pain was. As a crown prince—moreover as Severin-the-military-enthusiast’s brother—he had been trained up in the art of fighting and had gotten in a fair share of scuffles. He had been stabbed before—that was, he assumed, the worst pain possible. He was wrong.

  Seeing Ariane tossed around like a ragdoll…watching the spiders bite her while being completely powerless to help her in any way…that was the worst kind of gut-wrenching, heart-stopping experience he had ever gone through. Even now, he still felt his muscles twitching.

  She could have been killed! Lucien rubbed his face. When we’re married I’ll have to see to it that she has more weapons training than the basics her father taught her. With her personality, if a mage attacks one of her guards, she’d jump in to help.

  Lucien assumed it was a given they were going to marry. He had known he had deep feelings for her, but his fear had confirmed it. Ariane obviously felt the same way, or she wouldn’t have been able to break his curse. (Lucien was not going to be the idiot Severin had been and mope around, too foolish to see the truth of what the broken curse had meant. He, for one, wasn’t going to question his good fortune that Ariane returned his feelings. He intended to embrace it wholeheartedly.)

  “Sit, Your Highness,” the gutsy mage ordered. “I understand you worry for her, but working yourself into a lather won’t make her wake up any sooner.”

  “I’m not a horse,” Lucien protested, though he followed the suggestion and plopped down in an armchair that offered an excellent view of Ariane’s face.

  I suppose now that I have identified I love her, I’m supposed to moon over her beauty and her quirks…but I’m just so thankful she’s alive, I can barely string words together.

  He felt his body start to relax as he remained seated, and his breathing finally slowed down. I thought I lost her…. Lucien glanced up when he heard the salon door open and his brother’s heavy footsteps.

  “How is she?” Severin asked the mage—though he reassuringly clasped Lucien on the shoulder.

  “She is still a little ill,” the mage started.

  Lucien bolted upright. “You said she was fine!”

  The mage eyed Lucien. “But my magic is purging the toxins from her body, so she will be completely restored in a matter of hours. Sleep is very important for her at this moment.” He took great pains to enunciate his last sentence and honed in on Lucien as he spoke.

  “Good.” Severin swung his dark gaze to Lucien. “The mages are secured and subdued. They’re much younger than we estimated.”

  Lucien nodded—though he kept his eyes on Ariane’s form. “What will you do with them?”

  “Question them, of course, but I’m not sure what luck we’ll have. It seems they’ve both been turned mute—though I rather think it was against their will as they have tried to talk. Whatever spell it was that set it off, we think it was tied to the mask the male wore and the black bandage the female wore.”

  “What will you do if they can’t be questioned as a result?” Lucien asked.

  “A number of the visiting mages are traipsing through their holding cells as we speak to see if they can identify them or lift whatever spell it is they’ve been hit with. Eventually we will have to contact the Veneno Conclave—punishing the magical is their duty, not ours.”

  “I see. You’ve come up with a good plan, as always.” Lucien glanced away from Ariane long enough to offer his brother a small but genuine smile. “Though it rankles me to think that we have to send them off to the Conclave when it has been so useless these past few years.”

  Severin shrugged. “We have neither the ability nor the resources to hold them for an extended period of time. I find the idea less than favorable given that the Conclave holds tight to its own business and is unlikely to tell us what they discover. However, Sybilla—a fairy godmother—is in a high enough position she can demanded a report, and she promised to pass the information along.”

  Lucien nodded and returned his gaze to Ariane.

  “Are you going to return to the Summit meetings now?” Severin asked. “We will reconvene shortly—after the mages inspect the rogues that attacked you.”

  Lucien shook his head. “I want to be here when she wakes up.”

  The healing mage did not bother to disguise his long-suffering sigh.

  Severin moved slightly in front of Lucien and studied him carefully. “We should talk. In private.”

  Lucien glanced from his brother to Ariane. “You promise me, healer, that she’ll be fine?”

  The mage massaged the sides of his head. “I swear on the grave of my mother—she will wake up healthy!”

  Lucien reluctantly followed Severin, meeting the eyes of the guards who stood at attention in the salon and nodding his thanks to them before they quit the room.

  Severin led him down the empty hallway, pausing when they reached a cushion-covered bench shoved against the wall, positioned directly beneath a portrait of someone long dead.

  “What did you want to discuss?” Lucien asked.

  Severin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hesitate to ask you this, for it seems….am I correct in guessing you might have feelings for Mademoiselle Ariane?”

  Lucien relaxed. I had thought he had some bad news to share, but this is easily handled. “Not just feelings, but love. I am in love with her.”

  “I knew it!” Elle triumphantly said. There was a meow and a bark, and she strolled into view, her black cat and fat dog romping around her skirts. She carried a bundle of tulips—one of which had a distinctly flattened petal as if it had been rubbed. She arrogantly nodded, wearing her smuggest smile. “I thought I saw it in you, Lucien! You might be able to lie with the innocence of a babe, but I saw through you!”

  Severin frowned at his wife. “You had suspicions but did not share them with me?”

  Elle handed Severin the tulips, though she plucked one from the bundle and playfully tapped him on the nose with it. “Consider it payback for refraining from telling me about Marc’s feelings for Emele.”

  “That was two years ago.”

  Elle twirled her tulip. “Yes, well, I was highly attached to their romance.”

  Severin pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did it happen?” he asked Lucien.

  Lucien scuffed his booted foot on a blue rug. “Gradually, I think.
I started to like her more and more, but one day she was talking and…she’s seen who I really am, Severin. And she values me for it.”

  Severin studied Lucien with a wrinkled brow. “But she feels—”

  “The same, or my curse wouldn’t be broken.” Lucien winked.

  Severin was silent for several moments. “I cannot recall you ever mentioning love pertaining to any female before.”

  Lucien shrugged. “I never found anyone like Ariane.”

  “She caught your fancy in a short amount of time,” Severin said. “You have interacted with her only for the duration of the Summit.”

  “I know it sounds brash and impulsive…but you have to understand! She’s the first person besides you who sees me!”

  Elle picked up her cat, who purred in pleasure. “What do you mean?”

  Lucien ran his hands through his hair again. How do I explain it to them, when Ariane has guessed things about me they don’t know?

  Severin interrupted his thoughts before he could come up with a sufficient explanation. “Do you love her for any other reason, or is it only because she sees something in you?”

  Lucien lifted his chin up, more than a little stung by the comment. “You’re asking if I love her for selfish reasons?”

  “No,” Elle said firmly. “Your reaction to her whenever she is in peril makes it clear that this is not a selfish love—or you wouldn’t be nearly so concerned about her. But you need more than a single emotional connection.”

  Severin nodded.

  Lucien turned to stare at the painting—it was an old piece that depicted a dark-haired girl in a white dress standing before a hellish-looking army. “She has this great blustery laugh that’s far too loud, and I love it. She’s obsessed with cleaning—if she sees a cobweb, she cannot stand to leave it alone—but it’s because she sees the beauty and the value in seeing that things are well cared for. She sees through people, but never puts on any airs. She accepts who she is, and she’ll love and accept others for who they really are, as well. She believes in the continent, in the point of the Summit. She’ll never be able to lie or play nice with nobles—she’s too full of iron to put up with them. And she’s fierce—like you, Severin. She’ll throw herself into danger without a second thought if it’s to fight for someone else.”