Beastly Bride: A Frog Prince Retelling (Perrault Chronicles)

by Cordelia Castel

  On her left, cousin Marcassin waved. Freida gulped, regretting ever having turned down his proposal of marriage. Although the man was a wild boar at the time, he kept himself clean and didn’t smell half as much as the ghastly groom.

  As they progressed down the aisle, Freida grimaced at the cloud of flies surrounding the man’s greasy head. The only thing that could cure him was a long dip in a volcano, and no matter what Father said or did, she would not get married.

  She let go of his arm, threw herself backward on the floor and kicked out her legs. “I won’t marry him!”

  “Freida,” he hissed. “What are you doing?

  “If you make me, I’ll throw myself off the highest tower!”

  “Get up.” Father reached down to grab her arm, but she slapped his hand away. His face twisted into a rictus of rage but anything, even Father’s wrath, would be better than a lifetime with a disgusting derelict.

  Freida screamed at the top of her voice, drowning out the orchestra. She didn’t care how she looked, as long as she got what she wanted. After several minutes of floor tantrum, she opened her eyes. The entire congregation crowded around her, including Don Giovanni. Something nasty slithered from within his beard, making her shriek in earnest.

  “Stay away from me, you fetid freak!” She would have kicked at him, but who knew what would dislodge from the man? He seemed to be a treasure trove of turds.

  “I have never been so insulted in my life.” Don Giovanni sniffed and stormed out of the chapel. Everyone jumped back so as not to come in contact with his putrid person. Freida’s entire body sagged to the floor and she cried out in relief. She was free. The man stopped at the exit and pointed a filthy finger at Father. “I want the full amount plus interest!”

  Father loomed over Freida, his fists balled. “Where. Is. Momo?”

  A shiver ran down Freida’s spine, and her heart pumped blood into her legs, urging her to flee his wrath. “I-I don’t know.”

  He held out his hand. “Come with me. We have…matters to discuss.”

  Freida’s mouth dried, and terror kept her stuck to the floor. He wouldn’t hurt her in front of a chapel full of people.

  Mother stepped in his path. “Sire, allow me.”

  Father’s eyes flickered from Freida to Mother, but he gave her a curt nod and put his hand on the small of her back, and together they left the chapel. A lump formed in Freida’s throat, and she allowed cousin Marcassin to help her up. She made toward the door, but fear stilled her movements. If she went after them, Father would drag her away and she’d be punished.

  This was all Momo’s fault, and she would avenge Mother’s ill treatment.

  Chapter 3

  Freida stalked out of the chapel, cheeks aflame. Everyone was still gawking at her, and the pins holding her dress together dug into her skin. She gritted her teeth. That was another reason to blame Momo. The walk down the hallways was excruciating, and not even the sight of a maid tripping over her feet would cheer her up. Poor Mother had taken Momo’s punishment, and it was so unfair. When the sweet and kind and gentle Armin married her, and she became Queen, she would be the one dishing the punishments out.

  She had hardly left the north wing, when a pin lanced through her side, making her flinch. Freida scurried into the nearest stairway and pulled out every single maliciously applied pin. She climbed up the stairs and paused at the top. As with most views around the palace, the one from this window was magnificent. It was the orchard of Golden Callisti apple and Midas pear trees. The trees would never bear fruit. Such was the nature of her country being in perpetual spring, but their blossoms glistened in the noon sun like flakes of gold.

  Beyond the orchard was the royal farm, which supplied food for the entire household. A man wearing a hat and cloak herded a group of pigs. That was it. Freida grinned. She knew how she would get revenge on Momo.

  She ran to her chambers and picked out the most simple dress she could find. It was more like a chemise, but she placed a kerchief over her neck, fluffed out her hair and was instantly unrecognizable. She placed a bonnet over her luxuriant brown locks, just to be sure. Anyone seeing her would mistake her for an exceptionally pretty young peasant. They would never suspect she was the most beautiful Princess in all the Seven Kingdoms.

  She left her chambers and bumped into the clumsy maid, who curtseyed and murmured, “Pardon me, Your Highness.”

  Freida scowled. Perhaps her disguise wasn’t good enough, but she shook her head. Who else would exit the Princess’s bedroom but her? Only Momo, and her ugliness was distinctive enough. Besides, it was too late to go back and change. Her revenge plan was seared into her mind, and she would not rest until she had carried it out. She walked out of the palace, through the garden, the orchard, and out of the north gates. The guards all saluted her, to her irritation. Apparently, even underlings could see through clever disguises.

  The pigs grazed in the adjoining field, and she found the swineherd sitting on a fallen tree trunk with a piece of straw hanging out of his mouth. He whittled an instrument from a block of wood. She snorted. Of course, Momo’s betrothed would be lazing on the job. Slobs stuck with slobs.

  Freida straightened and sauntered towards him, sashaying her hips. The man’s eyes widened, and he bowed in the presence of her irresistible beauty.

  “You there. I will have the musical pot you are carving.”

  He frowned and stared at the object. “It’s not for sale, Your Highness.”

  Freida clenched her teeth. Perhaps the title was an endearment commoners used when they wanted to impress nubile young beauties. “I will offer you a kiss for it.”

  His head jerked back, and his cheeks pinked. “But I’m betrothed.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “So you say, but did you know your fiancée was punished for her disgraceful display in Metropole?” The straw fell out of his mouth, and his eyes widened. He looked like he would argue with her, but he kept silent. “Yes. She took up with a very handsome palace servant. Wilfred was his name.”

  The man scowled and glanced away. “I wondered why she hadn’t come to see me for two days.”

  “I expect she’s trying to find someone to write him a love letter.” She flicked her luxurious hair behind her shoulder. “Momo was rather wanton, and I don’t know if I should tell you this, but…”

  He stepped forward, his eyes blazing. “But what?”

  “She told me she’d ‘done it’ with him.” She placed her fingers over her lips and fluttered her eyes.

  The man’s bottom lip quivered, and Freida almost felt sorry for him. He sat on the log and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to say, Your Highness.”

  “Perhaps now you’ll sell me the musical pot for a kiss?” She cocked her head to the side and gave him a sympathetic smile.

  He nodded and rubbed his hands on his trousers. When he stood, she held out a perfectly manicured hand. “Not yet. Wash first.”

  “This way, Ma’am.” He walked to the edge of the field toward the fence. Beyond it stood the Fairybell Woods, which contained the most enchanting white flowers. He opened the gate for her, murmuring, “Ladies first.”

  They walked along the path to a small hut where a well and a trough lay. “One moment, please.”

  He took off his tunic, and Freida sucked in her breath. He looked exactly how she’d imagined Charming Armin under those royal robes. Tall, hard and chiseled. She licked her dry lips as he drew the water and washed his hands and face. Then he doused himself with the rest of the water, making his golden skin glisten.

  The man’s hair dripped, and he advanced toward her. Freida’s heart pumped, and she stood as still as a boulder, her lips parted, her chest heaving.

  “About that kiss,” he murmured.

  A whimper escaped Freida’s throat, and she allowed herself to be swept up in his strong arms. The kiss was firm, demanding. Tamworth knew what he was doing, and he dipped her back, making her wrap her arms around his strong, muscular shoulders
to stop herself from swooning. And that was just the first kiss. After nine more, she could barely keep upright.

  When he broke the kiss and let go, her head still spun, and she stumbled. He placed his strong hands on her arms, holding her steady. “All right?”

  Panting, she nodded. But it was a lie. She was far from all right. She’d had a taste of what that wretch Momo enjoyed every night, and she wanted it for herself. Her gaze caught a wooden rattle, and she pointed at it. “I’ll give you a hundred kisses for that.” A grin crossed his face, and his cornflower blue eyes sparkled. Without the hat and cloak, he was rather handsome. Dashing, almost. He nodded and his gaze flickered to her lips. Freida put her palm on his chest, partially to get his attention, but mostly to feel the sinew underneath that smooth, masculine skin. “But it has to be in your hut.”

  He nodded and took her by the hand.

  The hut was as she’d expected: wooden with a pallet on the floor and clothing strewn about. A small stove stood in the corner, but it looked unused. Tamworth likely ate with the staff and had no need for cooking facilities. The man dashed about, straightening the bed, and Freida stood at the entrance to the door, hands on hips, foot tapping.

  At last, the swineherd sat on the makeshift bed and spread his arms. Freida raised her chin and stepped within grabbing reach. The man scooped her into his lap and pressed his lips on hers. Freida kissed back with equal fervor. She closed her eyes and pictured the olive skin, brown eyes and dark brown hair of Charming Armin.

  In her fantasy, Armin had laid her flat on the bed, removing her royal kerchief, and he peppered her neck and collarbone with kisses. She ran her fingers through his dark tresses, begging for more. The fires in the royal bridal suite burned hot, and Freida pulled off her dress, baring herself to her One True Love.

  She’d lost count of how many minutes had passed. She’d lost count of the kisses. Newly married couples did not need to keep score. She enjoyed the sensation of his beautiful, full lips traveling down from her collarbone to her—

  “Freida!”

  Her eyes snapped open, and she was back in the swineherd’s hut with a dazed young man crouched over her. Father stood in the doorway, his face puce, and Momo cringed beside him. The girl’s face was swollen and bruised with tears.

  Freida snatched her discarded neckerchief and clamped it to her exposed chest. “F-father?”

  Stalking into the hut, Father filled the entire space with his angry presence. He bared his teeth and balled his fists. Veins stood out on his temple and neck.

  She swallowed. “M-momo is over there.”

  Father grabbed her by the hair and yanked her off the pallet. Yelping, she cowered, but he showed her no mercy. “Your days of allowing others to be punished in your stead are over.”

  “B-but it wasn’t me.” She pointed at the swineherd. “He did it. Yes! He forced me, and I tried to say no, but he made me do it.”

  “Tamworth!” cried Momo.

  The swineherd shook his head and staggered backward into the corner. “It weren’t like that, Your Majesty. She offered herself. A hundred kisses for a rattle.”

  Father sneered. “And where is this object my daughter saw fit to sully herself for?”

  Freida kicked the rattle under the straw mattress, and the swineherd looked around, his eyes frantic. Father let go of Freida, and her knees buckled with relief. Her heart soared when he advanced on the swineherd.

  “Guards.” His voice wasn’t the explosion of anger she’d expected, rather a cool, calculating cadence. “Truss him up and use the horsewhips.”

  Freida slipped on her dress and reapplied the kerchief. “I’d better go.” She headed for the door, but Father yanked her back. “What are you doing?”

  “I want you to see what your lies have wrought.”

  “But I’m not—”

  “Silence!”

  The guards dragged the struggling young man through the woods, the field and orchard, where a wooden pillory stood in the north side of the gardens. He was still shirtless, and Freida stole guilty looks at the way those glorious muscles rippled as he fought. She imagined him fighting for the honor of kissing her again and suppressed a smile.

  A hand clamped around the back of her neck. “You’re going to stay here and watch,” said Father.

  “But I haven’t yet had lunch,” she whined.

  “Watch.” The words were final.

  A guard cracked a thick leather whip over the man’s exposed back. He cried out, and Freida flinched at the sound. Father gazed down at her, and she gave him a sullen glower. If she kept sulking, perhaps he would let her go.

  The whip cracked again, this time breaking the swineherd’s skin.

  Momo cried out and ran between the guard and the whip, only to catch a lick from the lash. Freida snorted at the idiot.

  The whip had made criss-cross patterns on the swineherd’s back, and in time, blood poured from his wounds. Freida’s stomach rumbled. She wanted to ask Momo to fetch her a snack, but Father kept squeezing the back of her neck, whispering angry words into her ears. Every time she tried shrugging him off, he would grip tighter, so she allowed his tirade to wash over her.

  She shot a glare at her supposed servant, who lay on the grass, sobbing like a sow who had lost its favorite piglet. It served her right for allowing Mother to be punished in her stead and for having a nasty, vindictive sister. Freida wrinkled her nose. Perhaps she didn’t want Momo to fetch her food. With the amount of snot and saliva dribbling from her orifices, some of it would undoubtedly end up in her meal.

  “Anything to say now?” The words were snarled into her ear.

  “I don’t know what you want from me, Father. I’ve already told you what happened.”

  He shoved her forward, and for a stomach-lurching moment, she thought she would be flogged too. “Do you not care for your lover? The guards have whipped him bloody for an hour and if this continues, he will die!”

  Freida cowered. “It’s not my fault he forced himself on me. If you’re so worried about the swineherd, tell the guards to stop whipping him.”

  The guard stopped.

  “What is the meaning of this?” shouted Father.

  The guard wiped sweat off his brow. “My arm’s seized up, Your Majesty.”

  Father stalked forward and snatched the whip from the man. “Give it to me. Here’s how you whip a swineherd.”

  Freida took that opportunity to sneak back to the palace. She ordered a passing servant to send a meal to her room, and she dined alone. A huge slab of pork lay on her plate, swimming in a red gravy. The bread was drier than usual and the ale sour. She hoped the servants hadn’t tampered with her food in revenge for the swineherd’s punishment. It was not her fault the man had taken advantage of a Princess. He accepted the consequences of his actions when he kissed her.

  Later that evening, she ventured into the north wing to see if Father was still whipping the swineherd. His body lay unmoving on the ground, bloody, and Momo lay sobbing beside him, her dress stained red. She shrugged and walked back to her room.

  The next morning, she awoke with Father looming over her bed. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Where’s Momo?”

  “Get up. You are to go to Metropole.”

  A bolt of joy jolted Freida from her half-slumber, and she sat up. “Did you arrange another betrothal contract?”

  Father’s nostrils flared. “What right-minded parent would want a selfish trollop for a daughter-in-law? Since I cannot force you to restore the frog to humanity, you will use those shameful wiles and capture yourself the new Crown Prince!”

  Only the last part of the tirade registered with Freida. “Oh, thank you, Father!”

  He curled his lip. “Not so fast. Before you leave, you will make a boon. The next man you kiss will either be the frog, the Crown Prince or a man of my choosing.”

  “But—”

  He shook her so hard, her teeth rattled. “Do it!”

  Chapter 4

  Fath
er dispatched Freida to Metropole without letting her say goodbye to anyone and with only a driver as company. He would not even permit Momo to come with her. She sat in the coach, arms folded, nose firmly in the air. The next time she returned to Vern, it would be as the bride of the Crown Prince, and Father would be obligated to bow to her as his social superior. The thought of Armin warmed her insides. He was such a wonderful, passionate kisser, and she wanted more of those hot lips on her body.

  When her coach drew into the palace courtyard, she craned her neck to see whether her One True Love was waiting on the steps. Several large guards stood in her way, and she scowled. After exchanging such heated correspondence, she imagined jumping into his arms and being swung around.

  Instead of Charming Armin, Wilfred the worthy servant opened her carriage door. He bowed with a flourish. “Welcome back, Your Highness.”

  She ignored him and stepped out. She had to stand on tiptoes to see past the guards, but her Armin wasn’t there. Her shoulders sagged, but a thought popped into her head. They weren’t yet betrothed, so it would be improper for him to greet her in such a friendly manner. He was probably waiting for her in her chambers.

  “I wish to rest after my long journey,” she announced.

  “Please, follow me, Your Highness. Your room awaits.”

  She and Wilfred traversed the grand hallway, bypassing the grand staircase. She furrowed her brow. Why hadn’t she been placed in the chambers next to Armin, her future betrothed? They went up a stairway that reminded Freida of the north wing in her own palace, and she stopped. Wilfred paused and gave her an inquisitive raise of the eyebrows.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To your room, Your Highness.”

  “Don’t you mean rooms?” k'12

  “The Crown Prince will celebrate his birthday shortly, and guests from all Seven Kingdoms and beyond will be staying. Some have come as far as Boreal and the Pharaoh Islands. We have little space.”