A Beautiful Curse

by Kenley Davidson

  “Not in time. You know, you really need to stop arguing with me.”

  “Arguing,” the frog protested, “is very nearly the only thing in the world that I can still do well.”

  “Yes, but as you keep saying, I’m a prince,” Cam reminded it with a grin. “You shouldn’t be arguing with your prince, especially not when you know he’s right.”

  The frog glared at him balefully. “You know I’ve already bitten one prince, and it wouldn’t be that difficult to make it two.”

  Cambren laughed and jumped to his feet. “As threats go, that one could use some work.”

  “Yes, well, it’s all I’ve got. I can’t hold a sword, so challenging you to a duel is out.”

  “Then sharpen your teeth,” he told it with a wink, “because tomorrow I’ll be bringing a book whether you like it or not. I’ll be sure to pick one I haven’t read before, and then you can’t protest that I’m wasting my time.”

  The frog blinked rapidly and turned to hop towards the pond, pausing just before entering the water.

  “You’re a far better friend than I deserve,” it said. “I wish there was something more I could do in return.”

  “Just don’t give up on me,” Cambren called back, as he took his horse’s reins and prepared to mount. “I’ll find a way to break this curse, I swear it.”

  But the frog didn’t answer, and Cam could feel its despair as he rode back to the stables to begin his search for the answer to his father’s challenge.

  Chapter 7

  Elisette spent the next morning reminding herself that Prince Cambren had far better things to do than read to a frog. He was an important person with many friends, and many duties. No matter how much she enjoyed his company, she dared not come to rely on the idea that he would return to entertain her every day.

  Also, she was hungry. Very hungry. Had it really been almost three days since she’d eaten? Since yesterday, she’d begun to notice her body responding to the smaller creatures around her. That worm she’d seen in the mud had caused her mouth to open involuntarily, and a moth fluttering by had actually induced her to leap after it.

  Ellie prided herself on being reasonable and logical. She knew very well that she was going to have to give in to the frog’s instincts sooner or later. But something in her held back, as if that was the final step towards giving up and accepting that she would be a frog forever. Once you’d eaten a worm, could you ever truly forget the experience?

  If she was still a frog by nightfall, she would probably be forced to resign herself to the inevitable and go hunting. Though hopefully she could find something slightly less… slimy, for her first meal. A cricket, perhaps? But would crunching on wings and legs really be any better?

  She closed her eyes and shuddered, and when she opened them again, Cambren’s face was only an arm’s length away.

  A frightened human might jerk backwards a few inches. A frightened frog has a far more effective escape mechanism, and Ellie found herself flying through the air to splash spectacularly into the shallow water at the edge of the pond.

  “Don’t do that,” she wailed, as she pulled herself out to find him chortling on the bank.

  “I really am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but you have to admit, it was a little bit funny.”

  “Was it?” Ellie rolled her eyes up at him. “Fine. Why don’t we test that theory? You throw yourself in backwards and I’ll see whether I laugh.”

  “Very well.” Cam set down the bag he was carrying, walked backwards into the mud and closed his eyes.

  “No!” Ellie shrieked. “I didn’t mean for you to actually do it!”

  “Why not?” Cam seemed genuinely puzzled. “You were right. It was not very gentlemanly of me to laugh, and it does seem fair for me to be wet and muddy as well.”

  “Yes, it would be fair, if you had to be wet anyway in order to breathe and didn’t have any clothes to explain to the palace laundry,” Ellie grumbled. “Just step away from the pond and stop being absurd.”

  Cambren shrugged and grinned. “All right.” He picked up the bag again and turned to her with a questioning look. “Are you hungry?”

  Ellie groaned. “Why did you have to bring that up? I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about food ever since sunup. The frog wants to hunt but I’m simply not ready to eat any of what it might catch.”

  “Then how about some bits of leftover fish from breakfast?” Cam pulled a wrapped-up handkerchief out of his bag and rolled back the edges to reveal a tiny pile of shredded meat.

  Elisette stared at the offering, completely bereft of words. He’d brought her fish. Because he’d thought she might be hungry and guessed she wouldn’t want to eat worms.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, blinking to make sure she wasn’t about to cry. “It’s probably best if I get used to eating like a frog sooner rather than later.”

  “But there’s no reason it has to be today,” Cam argued, setting the handkerchief on the ground where she could reach it. “And anyway, I hate fish, so you should eat it as a personal favor to your prince, who will never be able to use this handkerchief again because of the horrible smell.”

  She knew what he was doing. Trying to make it easier for her to accept his generosity. Because whatever else Prince Cambren might be, he was by far the most generous person she’d ever met. Generous with his time, with his words, and with his kindness. It was a pity she’d never really had a chance to talk to him more as a human, but the one time she had, she’d been unpardonably rude and self-centered. If she hadn’t been turned into a frog, she might never have come to know what sort of person he was.

  “Then I’ll eat it,” she said, her regrets making her grumpy. “But only because I don’t want it to go to waste.”

  “Excellent!” Cambren exclaimed. “I’ll see to my horse, and then we can spend the rest of the morning reading.”

  True to his word, Cambren had brought books. As soon as Ellie finished the last bites of fish, which tasted better than anything she’d ever eaten in her life, he wadded up the handkerchief, stuffed it in the bag, and threw himself back on the grass with the bag to prop him up.

  “Now if you sit here”—he picked her up and set her gently on his chest—“you should be able to see the words as well.”

  See? How could she see anything through her tears? As a human, she’d spent a month enduring the unkindness of the other apprentices, and the rejection of the girls at Rilla’s. None of them seemed to have considered for a moment that she might be as lonely and insecure as anyone else. They’d seen a person and treated her like a frog—something slimy and undesirable that they couldn’t wait to get away from.

  Prince Cambren saw a frog, and treated her like a person—someone valuable and worthwhile, no matter that she had green skin and staring, bulbous eyes.

  Even now, when he had to know how upset she was, he simply settled back and began to read, giving her a chance to regain her composure while he told the tale of a sea-faring Caladonian king and his long-ago bargain with the queen of the merpeople.

  Every so often, Ellie had to interrupt the story to go splash in the pond and keep her skin damp, and Cambren developed a wet spot on his shirt, but still he read on. Elisette discovered that the frog’s eyes didn’t focus like her human ones did, and was forced to read out of one eye at a time, which was awkward. Eventually, she decided that it was actually far more pleasant to simply close her eyes and listen to Cam’s voice. He had a nice voice, quiet and soothing, and he clearly enjoyed reading, which made the story come alive and seem far more probable than it actually was.

  “Are you awake, frog?” he asked at length, when he reached the end of the first part of the tale.

  “Yes.” She cracked an eye. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’m trying to decide if I’ve avoided my duties long enough. If you were asleep, I thought I might return to my chores and consider my father’s task.”

  “I beg your pardon!
” Ellie hopped down from her perch, considerably embarrassed. “There’s no need for you to feel obligated to entertain me,” she said stiffly. “I apologize for keeping you so long.”

  “You didn’t keep me anywhere,” Cambren said chidingly. “I would far rather be here reading, I assure you.” He sat up and set the book to the side. “It’s just that I have no idea where to find what my father wants this time and I suppose I ought to at least make an effort.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “He wants a dog small enough to fit in a teacup.”

  Ellie thought about that for a moment. “I don’t mean to be rude,” she said cautiously, “but is His Majesty quite all right?”

  “I don’t know,” Cambren admitted. “I believe so, but these requests do make one wonder. What could a tiny dog possibly have to do with choosing a king? I know he believes such a thing would have made Mother happy—she hated large dogs—but I still don’t see how it applies.”

  “Perhaps he feels guilty,” Ellie said softly.

  “For what?”

  “For not being able to give her what he thought she needed,” Ellie explained. “Maybe this is his way of atoning for something. I know there are things I would atone for, if I thought I could, especially now that it’s too late.”

  “It’s not too late,” Cambren insisted. “It might be too late for my father, but it’s not too late for you.”

  “Hmm.” Ellie didn’t bother with a response.

  “But I imagine I ought to go searching for dogs. Tiny ones. I don’t suppose you know where I might find one?” He couldn’t hide his hopeful expression.

  “I wish I did,” Ellie said mournfully. “I would do anything I could to help you, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog that tiny.”

  “Worth a try.” Cambren scrambled to his feet. “I’ll do my best to come back tomorrow, but if I haven’t found what I need, I may not be able to.”

  “Have you thought about just failing the challenge on purpose?” Ellie asked.

  “Only a hundred times a day,” he muttered. “But for some reason I don’t feel like that would be right. I know Father wants us to try, so I’m going to try. If I fail, it won’t be because I gave up.”

  Shamed, Ellie recalled her own eagerness to give up on her curse. It seemed she had a lot to learn from the kind, handsome prince with gray eyes and a ready smile. He loved his father enough to keep attempting the impossible in order to make him happy. Shouldn’t she love her family enough to keep trying to get back to them?

  “Then I shall await news of your victory,” she told him, bowing her head as much as the frog’s ridiculous neck allowed.

  “Don’t say that,” Cambren begged, clutching his hair theatrically. “I think victory might actually be worse than failure. I mean, can you imagine me as king?”

  “All hail King Cambren, Lord of the Frogs,” she intoned, unable to help herself.

  “Gah!” He plucked a grass blade and threw it at her like a miniature lance. “If it were only frogs, I might not mind the idea of ruling quite so much. In my experience, they are companionable creatures who cause very little trouble, as long as you don’t drop them accidentally or dive into their ponds without suitable attire.”

  Ellie croaked a laugh. “Well, as long as you have learned your lesson, I am quite willing to offer you my allegiance.”

  “No,” Cambren said hastily, going down on one knee in front of her. “Please, I beg of you, don’t. I would much rather go on having you as a friend than a subject.”

  “I suppose I could be both,” Ellie said hopefully.

  “I don’t know if it works that way for kings,” Cambren said, bowing his head regretfully. “I’m not sure Father really has any friends. Not since Mother died.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Ellie argued. She didn’t want to think that breaking her curse might result in losing his friendship. It mattered too much to her. He mattered too much. “I think everyone needs friends. They’re part of what keeps us… human.” She almost choked over the word. “If a frog can have a friend, why not a king?”

  Cambren smiled sadly. “I hope you’re right.” He stood, looked up into the sky and sighed deeply. “I do so hope you’re right.”

  Cam spent the next day in a state of near perpetual bewilderment. He rode all over Ranidane, asking questions of anyone who could be reasonably supposed to have an interest in dogs. He questioned the royal dog trainer (a merely ceremonial role since Queen Luna’s arrival in Anura) and even made an unsatisfactory trip to the library, hoping to see Elisette. He was dismayed when the rude man named Farrel informed him stiffly that she had abandoned her apprenticeship and no doubt returned home, and no, he couldn’t say where that was.

  Feeling more dejected at this news than he ought, Prince Cambren surveyed the available volumes on dogs and found little of use. His subsequent inquiry into available lap dogs produced only the information that every dog in the city smaller than a stoat had already been purchased.

  He didn’t need to guess by whom.

  At length, Cam concluded that he really didn’t have much choice but to give up. It pained him to disappoint his father, but perhaps this was simply the king’s way of teaching them that failure was inevitable.

  He went to sleep dreading the next day’s assembly, and woke early enough that he decided to visit the pond before getting ready. If nothing else, it would keep him out of Dauntry’s way until it was far too late to do anything about his wardrobe.

  When he arrived at the water’s edge, the frog was nowhere to be seen.

  “Er, frog?” he called, realizing abruptly how silly that sounded. “I wish you would give me your name. Something I can call you besides ‘frog,’ at least.”

  There was no answer, and the surface of the pond remained glassy smooth.

  Feeling a stab of worry, Cam took a step nearer, until the toes of his boots touched the edge of the shallows. He didn’t think there was anything in the garden that would hurt a frog, but what if a predator had found its way in? There were any number of animals that might find a frog to be a tasty snack. Herons, snakes, otters… The idea horrified him.

  He should never have left his friend alone in such an exposed place. Maybe he could find a basin of water and keep it in the barn, or hide it in the bathtub in his rooms…

  “Are you all right? Please say you’re all right, because if something’s eaten you, I doubt I’ll be able to forgive myself.”

  Without warning, something dark surged out of the water and landed on his boot with a splash. Cam leapt backwards and let out a strangled yell, before he realized it was none other than the frog, now lying on its back in the mud, laughing hysterically.

  “I’m sorry,” it gasped, “but I was so terribly bored and I simply couldn’t help myself.”

  Cam scowled and reached down to pick it up, holding it quite firmly and bringing it level with his face so it could see just how angry he was.

  “I thought you’d been eaten! I didn’t even think about how vulnerable you are until I couldn’t find you and then I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that could have happened. You haven’t even been a frog long enough to be wary of predators! All it would take is one heron—one casual stab, and you’d be gone!”

  The frog hung its head. “I really am sorry,” it said with a sigh. “You’re right, I didn’t think of that. Of course”—it shivered in his hands—“now I won’t be able to stop thinking about it either.”

  “You might as well stop,” Cam said sternly, “because I’m not leaving you out here again.”

  “Wait, what?” The frog wriggled in his grasp. “Where else would I go?”

  “For now, I’m taking you back to the barn. There’s an empty stall, and a bit of a puddle near the pump. It’ll be enough to keep you wet until after the assembly, and then I’ll think of something else.”

  “You can’t!” the frog protested, quite strenuously. “What if someone sees me? Even worse, what if
they don’t see me? At least out here, I’m not in danger of being stepped on, by humans or horses.”

  “Don’t worry,” Cam soothed. “The horses won’t be strolling around the barn without me, and no one else will be there until I get back.”

  The frog huffed, and looked very much as if it were pouting. “I guess it’s not like I have a choice,” it remarked grumpily.

  “Do you want to be eaten?” Cam snapped.

  “No!” the frog shouted. “I just don’t want to be a burden for the rest of my short and slimy life!”

  Both of them fell silent and exchanged rather ashamed glances.

  “I’m sorry,” Cam said, at the same time the frog blurted out:

  “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re only trying to help.”

  “And I know this has got to be frustrating, but you’re not a frog,” Cam said desperately. “You’re a person, and I’m not going to stop treating you like one just because of how you look.”

  The frog went limp in his hands. “No one really saw me as much of a person before I was a frog,” it said, so softly and sadly it nearly broke Cam’s heart. “Why should I expect anything different now?”

  “Because we’re friends,” Cam said doggedly. “And that’s what friends do.”

  “If you say so.” The frog remained limp.

  “I do.” Cam retrieved his horse and mounted, while cradling the frog carefully against his chest. “And I shouldn’t have to leave you alone for long. Just a few hours, until the assembly is over.”

  “Did you find what you needed?” the frog asked, rather dispiritedly.

  “No,” he admitted. “I looked everywhere. Even went to the library to ask for help, but no one could tell me anything. There was one apprentice there that I was certain would know, but… Anyway, I’m pretty sure Dauntry’s been buying up every small dog in the city in hopes that one of them will satisfy Father.”

  “So he’s going to win?” the frog asked, not sounding very enthusiastic about the prospect.

  “No idea. Maybe Eldrick was able to come up with something clever, but it isn’t like we confide in each other.”