The Frog Prince (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 9)

by K. M. Shea

  His words dusted the cobwebs of worry from Ariane’s mind, and she smiled. Time will show the strength of our relationship, so let’s buy time. “Before you speak to your father or mother about marrying me, before you take any steps towards bringing me into your world, I want you to display your true brilliance.”

  Lucien rolled his eyes. “Brilliance? Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

  Ariane licked her lips as she recalled the many hours they spent in the Summit. “During the meeting sessions, it was remarked multiple times that there had to be something—or someone—that was the cause of all the chaos and seemingly random attacks—a unifying factor.”

  “Yes?”

  Ariane met Lucien’s gaze with her own. “I want you to find it.”

  Lucien furrowed his brows. “You want me to figure out what exactly is behind all of this—when the joint mind of all the representatives could not?”

  “Yes,” Ariane said simply.

  Between the meetings and the realization that the Conclave was not as steady as it appeared to be, even a commoner like Ariane knew things were grim. Severin needed help, and Lucien needed time to think.

  It was the perfect compromise.

  Moreover, in her heart, Ariane knew that Lucien could help. He was intelligent in a way his brother was not. And just as every representative had brought something forth (Princess Astra of Baris offered her courage, the Ringsted representatives offered steadfastness, the Arcainian family knowledge), Ariane was positive Lucien could add something others could not. She couldn’t place her finger on what it was, but she truly believed that Loire—and the continent—needed him.

  And if, after puzzling out the unifying factor, Lucien decided that despite their love he could not take the scrutiny, he would surely be able to convince everyone Severin had done it all.

  Though I would be lying if I said I didn’t hope for the opposite.

  Lucien’s brow was still furrowed as he looked at the ground.

  Ariane—shaking a little—dared to place a hand on his chest and smooth a wrinkle in his shirt. “I’m not asking this of you because I wish to dissuade you, Lucien. You are right: I do love you. That is the reason for my request. I want you to succeed. I merely want you to see if this future is something you will truly be comfortable with.”

  Lucien studied her with heart-stopping intensity. Ariane had thought she detected intelligence in his frog eyes, but it was far stronger as he stared at her as a man, his narrowed eyes and the thoughtful slant of his mouth making the impression even stronger.

  He nodded once. “Very well.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  Lucien snorted. “Of course. Do you really think I would give you up over such a small thing?” He briefly rested his forehead against hers. Then, before Ariane could protest, he kissed her on the cheek, purposely aiming so his lips touched the corner of her mouth. “I’m afraid to say, though, you won’t see me much until I conquer this task. I don’t intend to let this drag on.”

  Ariane laughed. “I see.” She placed her hands on his cheeks—both in affection and to keep him from kissing her again. If I let him really kiss me, I just might take back my little test, and I can’t let that happen! “You will do well, Lucien. I know it.”

  Lucien peeled one of her hands off his cheek and kissed it, pressing his lips to her fingers until Ariane felt herself turning beet red and tugged her hand from his grip.

  Lucien laughed, then turned around and hurried back towards Chanceux. “Remember—you promised,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  When he disappeared from the gardens, Ariane dazedly wandered over to a stone bench and plopped down on it.

  “Well,” she said. I guess all I can do now is hope.

  Lucien strode down the hallway that led to Severin’s personal study, mentally calculating what Rangers were available, and what books and additional materials he needed.

  “Your Highness,” Henry said, appearing from the shadows.

  Lucien glanced at his valet. “Did you need something, Henry?”

  “Your brother has hopes that since Mademoiselle Ariane has woken, you will join the representatives in the Summit,” Henry said.

  “Not a chance,” Lucien said. He expected some sarcastic comment—Henry excelled in being passive-aggressive—and was not wholly disappointed.

  “You are setting an unusually fast pace. Is there a tailor you are anxious to see?”

  Lucien released a bark of laughter. “No. I’m merely in a hurry for the foreseeable future. Summon Farand and send him to Severin’s study immediately,” Lucien said, naming the leader of his Rangers.

  “Is something the matter, Your Highness?” Henry asked.

  “No, I merely have a task to puzzle through.”

  “I see. I will call for tea, then. Or perhaps something stronger?”

  “Tea is fine, thanks.” Lucien glanced at him when the valet nearly walked into a suit of armor. “War wound bothering you?”

  “It is merely that I have never heard you turn down liquor. Are you certain you aren’t experiencing any side effects from your time as a frog?” Henry asked with the seriousness of a sword.

  Lucien chuckled. “I’m fine, but your concern is noted. Farand, now. Thank you.”

  Henry bowed, then turned on his heels and set off in the opposite direction as Lucien marched on towards Severin’s study.

  In his late-night musings after the Summit meetings, a rather odd observation had occurred to Lucien: though all the countries had used their extensive intelligence networks, not one—Lucien’s Rangers among them—had caught even a whisper of whatever was uniting the forces that so greatly opposed everyone.

  Rulers always knew who their enemies were—or they should if they were at all smart.

  Granted, they often pretended not to know who had sent assassins or who was planning an invasion (as Lucien’s experience with Arcainia had proven), but they always knew who was involved.

  That no one could flush up a scent told Lucien something: it was not a matter of battle tactics or excellent agents. Severin would have found them out by now if it were so.

  Which means it is not a matter of war, but of global power. And obviously no one can pinpoint the source. This meant Lucien’s best hope—as little as he liked it—was to search the continent’s history.

  History, as Scholar Pierre had said, endlessly repeated itself.

  Which meant there had to be a clue somewhere in the past that would give Lucien a new starting point. He very much doubted history would tell him exactly who was responsible—if it did, in fact, it was not a good sign—but if it could give him a different angle to search from, Severin might be able to find something new.

  Lucien already had several calculated guesses about their foe he had planned to discuss with Severin after the Summit, but Ariane didn’t need to know that. He just had to see if he could find anything to prove his conjectures.

  He blew into Severin’s study without hesitation, instantly pouncing on Severin’s bookshelves. It was filled mostly with military information, but he had some excellent history books. Lucien plucked several from the shelves, then set them down on his desk directly next to the journal of the ancient Verglas King with the funny name—Steinar.

  Lucien glanced at it for a moment, then pushed it aside so he could open the first book. He rolled up the sleeves of his fancy linen shirt and popped the top two buttons open. If I’m going to be stuck researching like a library trainee, I may as well be comfortable. Because I’m not giving up—no matter how many weeks or months this takes.

  Ariane had asked for the unifying factor behind whatever darkness was crawling across the country, and Lucien was going to find it for her.

  After her conversation with Lucien, Ariane was at a loss as to what she should do. So, she returned to what she did best: cleaning.

  Although more and more of the representatives left, the Summit was still considered in process. Ariane thought she was being very discree
t when she reported back to Heloise and asked for new duties. The housekeeper refused. It took a full day of Ariane pleading her case until Heloise gave in and assigned her several salons to see to—most likely to shut Ariane up than for any real purpose. But she wouldn’t give her back her maid’s uniforms, so she had to work in the day dresses provided by Elle.

  Ariane’s preferred salon was filled with musical instruments—the giant harp and arrangement of lap harps being her favorite. She didn’t dare touch the instruments—though she wanted to, for they needed a good cleaning—but she enjoyed the sight of them all the same.

  She was rolling up a rug to drag outside the music-themed salon when Elle descended on her four days after she and Lucien had talked.

  “You don’t have to clean anymore, you know.” Elle appeared rather suddenly in the doorway, making Ariane’s heart stop.

  She quickly dropped into a curtsey. “Am I no longer allowed to?” Ariane asked when her heart returned to its normal pace. She had wondered how Severin and Elle would react to Lucien’s news—for he surely wouldn’t keep it a secret from them. They are too honorable to shun me, which is why I thought they might forbid me from cleaning and begin to try to draw me into their company. Very lovely of them, but also very dangerous if Lucien decides he cannot stand the pressure.

  Elle laughed and flopped down in the settee, then muffled a big yawn. “Good heavens, no. Are you joking? I, more than anyone, know that old habits die hard, and sometimes it’s very comforting to return to what you know. Do whatever you like! I only wanted to be sure you understood we weren’t expecting you to work as a maid anymore.”

  Ariane twisted the rag she had been using to buff spots off portrait frames. “What else can I do, if I am not a maid?”

  “You mean what is your role now?” Elle asked.

  Ariane nodded.

  “I imagine you will not accept future-princess as a suggestion?”

  Ariane sighed. “He told you?”

  Elle laughed. “He had to. Severin was worried something had gone wrong with his transformation back into a human when he entered his study and found Lucien surrounded by towers of books. You should be proud, Ariane. You have managed to do the one thing no one else in Loire could and induced that pig-headed sop into working.”

  Ariane shrugged.

  “It’s been very eye-opening,” Elle said after a few moments of silence. “I always knew Lucien was smart—he couldn’t run the Rangers so well otherwise. But the questions he has come up with and the way he searches through books…he is much more intelligent than I gave him credit for.”

  “I think he counts on that,” Ariane said. “He is afraid of disappointing people, of being considered a failure.”

  Though Elle’s gaze was on Ariane, her eyes seemed to go right through her. “It’s sad. The fear of failure seems to be a vice that cripples many. What they don’t realize is that failure is inevitable, but it is not a horrible thing. It may be painful and hurtful, but if you are unwilling to risk, you will never experience the glory of what you could be.”

  Ariane shifted uncomfortably, realizing the thought applied to both herself and Lucien. Fear of failure hadn’t been something that had previously bothered Ariane, but now she had something to lose: Lucien. It was why she had requested Lucien’s test, why she was afraid he would one day regret loving her. It was awful and frightening, and it was partially why Ariane was back to cleaning, for she didn’t want to think about the possible outcomes of the future.

  And Lucien has lived with this sort of weight all of his life. Incredible.

  “You’ve done a great thing, Ariane,” Elle said. “And I believe it means more than you know.”

  Ariane forced a smile to her face as she picked up an empty bucket she had used to water the potted plants. “You mean I have proven Lucien has what it takes to be king?”

  “No. I mean it proves you are a worthy partner for him.”

  Ariane dropped her bucket. “I beg your pardon?”

  Elle arose with a smile. “Knowing that you love him and seeing your reaction, I can deduce that this is not an attempt to push him away, but a calculated test. You showed solid, sound judgement.”

  Ariane hesitated. “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes.” Elle moved to the door but lingered in the frame. “You may not think yourself a good candidate, and perhaps you aren’t. But neither is Lucien. Marriage is about the whole—not the two pieces that make it up. If you grow sick of cleaning, feel free to join Emele in the gardens—though it can be awkward to watch her flirt with her husband, Marc. Otherwise, you could always join us in the few remaining meetings…or watch Lucien.” She winked and was out the door.

  Ariane rolled her eyes. “Your Highness!” she shouted loud enough for the princess to hear.

  “Ah-ah! It’s Elle! And no matter what you do with your days, I shall expect to see you for tea and all meals!” Elle chortled her way down the hallway, soon fading from hearing range.

  Ariane shook her head and leaned against the settee. “Chanceux Chateau really is a strange place.”

  “Farewell—thank you again for hosting us!” Gabrielle—the beautiful princess from Arcainia, smiled as she embraced Elle. The Arcainian representatives—who were among the last remaining attendees—were finally setting out for their homeland.

  “Thank you for coming! You must return sometime if Nick and Mikk are coming to speak to Severin,” Elle said.

  Ariane smiled fondly as she watched the exchange. Elle got along well with many of the women who had attended the meeting, but she and Crown Princess Gabrielle seemed to have a special understanding. (Perhaps it was their commoner birth or their background in fighting?)

  Gabrielle had always been the most excited to attend tea when—in the last few days of the Summit—Elle and Severin had split the guests, and Elle brought the ladies to her private salon for refreshments. (Ariane attended the teas as well, mostly because Elle’s lady’s maid followed her endlessly until she agreed to.)

  “And you, Mademoiselle Ariane. Take care—it was a pleasure getting to know you!” The Arcainian beauty swept Ariane up in an unexpected embrace, squeezing her tightly.

  “Thank you?” Ariane didn’t really know quite what to say, but she returned the embrace and was rewarded when Gabrielle stepped back and bestowed a beautiful smile on her as well.

  “If the two of you ever wish to visit Arcainia, please come! If you don’t want to hang about Castle Brandis, I would gladly spirit you away to Carabas—my march,” Gabrielle added.

  Elise, the less-talkative foster daughter of King Henrik, affectionately squeezed Elle’s hands and then Ariane’s. “Indeed, if you wish to see Gabi again, you might very well have to come to Arcainia. I don’t think Steffen is inclined to let her leave Arcainia without him.”

  The sparkle in Gabrielle’s eyes dimmed slightly. “He took Clotilde’s brief rule over Arcainia very poorly. Perhaps almost as bad as King Henrik.”

  Elise looped her arm through Gabrielle’s. “But all is well now—and the carriage awaits. We need to return home to begin putting our plans into action. Thank you again, Your Highness, Mademoiselle, for your hospitality.”

  Ariane opened her mouth to object—for she really had no part in hosting them—but was forestalled by Gerhart, Elise’s younger brother, when he strolled up to the ladies. “You cannot fool me, Elise,” he said. “You are merely anxious to return home because you yearn for your lover boy.”

  Elise blushed. “Gerhart!”

  Gabrielle brushed a tendril of her honey-crème hair out of her face. “I would guess he is awaiting even more anxiously for you. Very well, let’s go. Puss!”

  Puss—who had been sitting with Prince Nickolas and Mikkael as they said their farewells—turned around and narrowed his cat eyes at her. “I know my ears must have deceived me, for you would never whistle at me like some sort of hoyden farmer’s brat, Gabrielle.”

  Gabrielle laughed as she approached her horse and swung up
on its back. “Come, Puss. We’re leaving—unless you want to tarry for a few weeks?”

  “You are so ungrateful!” the cat complained as he picked his way across the courtyard. “It’s rather disappointing—I did not raise you to have the manners of a street urchin.”

  “You didn’t raise me at all.”

  “Silence! Your impudence has grown beyond what I will tolerate. Now pick me up.” Puss sat down by the horse’s hooves and looked up at Gabrielle, his half mustache twitching.

  “Safe travels,” Ariane ventured to say to Elise.

  The brown-haired princess smiled. “Thank you. I wish you luck in all your endeavors until we meet again.” Elise nodded to both Elle and Ariane before she climbed into the nice-looking but rather unembellished carriage.

  Gerhart performed a sweeping bow. “Your Highness, Mademoiselle.” He winked, then joined his foster sister in the carriage.

  Ariane watched Prince Mikk pick up Puss—who had, up until that moment, been locked in a staring match with Crown Princess Gabrielle—and plop him into a saddlebag on Gabrielle’s horse. Do they know about Lucien and me? Why else would they be so…friendly? She stood a little straighter and smiled to try to fight off a slight blush. Now that I think of it, our story is the stuff of songs and ballads—disdain turned to love and all that…. But does that mean everyone who attended the Summit knows? Or at least has guessed? Gads, that would be embarrassing.

  A week had passed since Ariane had turned Lucien into a man again and challenged him to find the source of the darkness. She barely saw snatches of him, for he didn’t come to any of the formal meals. Instead, he pounced on her usually when she was on her way to meet Elle and the other royal ladies. Often, he grumbled incoherently into her shoulder as he leaned against her, then went tearing off to the library or Severin’s study for another book.

  I hope he does not drive himself mad over this…maybe I should speak to him about it.

  Though she was touched he was taking the matter so seriously, it occurred to Ariane that perhaps this showed no one knew how brilliant Lucien was—including himself—as Ariane had never expected this kind of single-minded determination.