A Beautiful Curse

by Kenley Davidson

  The frog fell silent and Cam could feel the flutter of its heart against his fingers as they rode across the garden.

  “Tell me again,” the frog said at length, “exactly what were the terms of your father’s challenge?”

  “Exactly?” Cam thought back to the previous assembly. “A dog that would make Mother smile, and is small enough to sit in one of her favorite teacups.”

  “Mmmhmm.” He could almost imagine the frog scratching its head. “Are you willing to take a bit of a risk?”

  “Will it offend my father?” Cam wasn’t willing to risk that.

  “I don’t think so,” the frog hedged, “but I don’t really know His Majesty. You’d be the best judge of such a thing.”

  “Well, let’s hear your idea, because it can’t be worse than the nothing I’ve come up with so far.”

  The frog told him.

  “I can’t,” Cam protested.

  “You can,” the frog insisted. “It fulfills the terms.”

  “And what if he hates it?”

  “You still haven’t lost anything,” the frog argued. “At least it shows that you tried.”

  “All right.” Cam sighed. “I’ll do it.” He began to chuckle under his breath.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Dauntry,” Cam admitted. “He’s going to hate me for this.”

  As soon as the frog was settled in its new quarters, Cam made a hasty trip to the marketplace according to his friend’s instructions, which meant that he was once again rather rumpled when he arrived at the waiting room for the assembly. Eldrick eyed him curiously, but uncharacteristically said nothing, not even about his uncombed hair.

  Their walk through the throne room went much as before, but when they reached the front Cam’s eyes went wide at the sight before him. Almost thirty servants stood there together, each one carrying or leading a dog. An incredible variety of color and sizes, they seemed to be responding to the commotion in an equally wide variety of ways. About half were wagging their tails wildly, and a few seemed well-trained enough to sit patiently. Several were shaking and hiding their heads, while a number of others strained at their leashes and growled.

  Eldrick eyed the display contemptuously. “I don’t think our brother knows when to stop.”

  Cam might have agreed with him, but he would never have said it out loud.

  “Ah, and now we’re all here,” the king said graciously, and the crowd’s murmurs died out. “Let us see how my sons have risen to the second of my challenges.”

  Dauntry stepped forward and bowed. “As you can see, I have procured the smallest dogs to be found anywhere in our kingdom. I am confident that one of them will fulfill the terms of the challenge.”

  “Let us find out!” The king produced the delicate rose teacup, and the trials began.

  One by one, the dogs were brought to the king, and one by one, they proved too large. There was one adorable little ball of fluff that came close, but it kept toppling out the moment its handler let go.

  “I’m very sorry,” the king said, not ungently. “I can see that you have made every effort, Dauntry, but I’m afraid none of these will fulfill the requirement.”

  Dauntry’s face was white. “I am sorry, Father,” he said, his lips bloodless and his eyes wide. “I have failed you.”

  “Nonsense,” the king returned jovially. “Now, Eldrick, let’s see what you have brought me.”

  The middle prince reached a careful hand beneath his coat and pulled out a puppy. It was so young, its eyes were not yet open, and so tiny, it fit in the palm of his hand. Ever so gently, Eldrick carried the little creature to his father and set it in the bottom of the cup. It curled up with a tiny squeaking noise and instantly went back to sleep.

  An immense “awwwww” escaped the crowd, and the king beamed.

  “Eldrick, you have met the challenge. Congratulations.”

  Eldrick jerked a short nod, retrieved the puppy and returned to his place, searching the crowd until he spotted someone and beckoned them forward. A young blonde woman approached, curtseyed diffidently, and accepted the puppy from Eldrick before vanishing back into the press of the assembly.

  “I apologize,” Eldrick said, “but the puppy needed to be returned to its mother.”

  “I understand.” The king then turned to Cambren. “And what have you brought me?”

  Cambren felt a little sick, but he had no choice but to show his father what he’d brought. “I searched the town, and asked everyone I could find, but everything seemed to fall short of the mark,” he explained. “Until it was pointed out to me that there was more than one way to fulfill the terms of the challenge.”

  Cam reached into his pocket and retrieved the item he’d purchased at the market that morning—a tiny, perfectly carved miniature of a dog, with ears flopped, tail up, and a collar studded with Anuran emerald chips.

  No one moved or spoke as he stepped forward to set it into the cup his father held. When it fit, he let out a long breath. “The terms of the challenge did not specify whether the dog had to be alive. I know it wouldn’t have made Mother smile as much as a puppy, but I would like to think she would have appreciated the exquisite workmanship of its craftsman.”

  The king smiled once more and picked up the dog to examine it closely. “Cambren,” he said, after he laid it back in his son’s hand, “you have met the challenge.”

  Cam felt as though his heart began to beat again.

  “I confess,” the king admitted, “that I had no idea whether such an animal existed.”

  Dauntry started visibly.

  “But one of the most important attributes of a sovereign is his or her ability to be flexible, and to consider all possibilities before taking action. Just because a thing has been done one way in the past, does not mean it must be done that way in the future. I salute each of you, my sons, for your efforts.”

  The crowd applauded politely, then strained forward to hear the king’s next words.

  “I now present you with your final, most important challenge.”

  Dauntry’s head came up, and his eyes burned with fervor. He couldn’t fail again, and he knew it.

  “Tomorrow, I would ask each of you to present yourself in front of this assembly once more.”

  Tomorrow? How could they possibly manage one of these challenges in a single day?

  “You will not need more than a day,” the king noted, “because what I am asking should not be a difficult task. When you come, I ask that you bring only one thing. The most valuable thing a man can possess—your closest, truest friend.”

  Glancing at Eldrick, Cam saw that his head was bowed, his expression tense. He seemed to like this challenge even less than the first two. Did Eldrick not have anyone he would call friend?

  Cam couldn’t help but recall his conversation with the frog about friends and kings, and wondered what his father had in mind. Did he want to know what sort of friends his sons kept, now that they were men? Did he hope to prove a point? Or was this as bizarre and unpredictable as the silk and the dogs?

  Oh well. At least this challenge would be simple… Cam knew exactly which friend he wanted to bring. He also knew it wasn’t going to be easy to convince that friend to come.

  But, when he thought about it, that seemed an appropriate way to confront his father’s challenge. If he couldn’t even get a frog to attend a royal assembly, he probably wouldn’t make a very good king anyway.

  Chapter 8

  As soon as she heard Cambren’s footsteps, Elisette hopped eagerly out of her new hiding place. She felt a little uneasy when her heart leapt at the sight of his now-familiar face, but squashed those feelings immediately. Of course she was happy to see the only friend she had.

  “Well, how did it go?”

  Cam’s expression was not encouraging. His head was down, his hands clasped behind his back, and there was a hint of a frown on his usually sunny features.

  “Did your father hate it?”

  “N
o.” Cambren shook his head. “He didn’t. I think he actually quite liked it.”

  “And what of your brothers? Did they pass as well?”

  “Eldrick did,” Cam said, still a little distracted. “He’s always spent a bit more time than necessary at his tailor’s but this time it paid off. The rat terrier that lives in the shop just had puppies, so he borrowed one.”

  “And Prince Dauntry?”

  Cambren rubbed his jaw and dropped onto a pile of hay next to Ellie. “He failed.” He shot her a wry look. “He’ll never be lonely, considering that he now owns something like thirty-five dogs, but he failed.” His chin dropped to his chest. “I really didn’t see that coming.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “I’m not sure,” Cambren confessed. “We still have one more challenge, so he’s not entirely out of the running.”

  “What did His Majesty say? What is the third challenge and how long do we have to meet it?”

  “Ah. About that.” The prince was looking extremely reluctant. “We have to return tomorrow for the final challenge.”

  “Tomorrow? That’s no time at all.”

  “Well, Father didn’t think we would need much time for this one.” He paused again.

  “All right,” Ellie said dryly, “what is it that you’re sure I’m not going to like but you’re going to end up saying anyway so you might as well spit it out?”

  Cambren groaned and flopped back onto the hay. “I was hoping you would agree to go with me,” he said, shutting his eyes and forcing the words out in a rush.

  Ellie’s mouth fell all the way open, which, as a frog, was quite a ways. “With you? To the assembly? Absolutely not. And don’t tell me your father asked you all to bring a pet amphibian because I won’t believe you.”

  “No,” Cambren said sheepishly, sitting upright and clasping his hands together. He shot her a hesitant look. “He asked us to bring a friend.”

  Ellie’s mouth closed with an audible snap. While the idea that he considered her a friend—and not only that, but a friend he would consider introducing to others—filled her with a shivery, pleased sort of warmth, she couldn’t exactly afford to encourage him in this matter.

  “Your Highness,” she said cautiously, “I’m quite certain His Majesty intended you to bring a human friend.”

  “You are human,” Cambren insisted. “And I’ve talked more to you in the few days since we met than I’ve talked to anyone else in years. I realize that’s pathetic, but that doesn’t make it less of a fact.”

  “But what if they make fun of you?” Ellie demanded.

  “They do that already,” Cambren told her with a shrug and a smile. “I’m well known for my oddities, and everyone considers me a bit of a loner.”

  She narrowed her eyes, cocked her head and stared at him.

  Oddities, he’d said. Just like her father. Well, her father would be horrified to discover that she now had even more oddities than before… and yet, Cam didn’t seem to mind them. Perhaps it was simply because he had his own unique quirks, but if no one else could see past them to the kind, handsome man hiding behind his diffident exterior, they were fools.

  “You’re actually serious, aren’t you?” she asked with a sigh.

  “Yes, of course I am,” he said. “The opinion of the court doesn’t matter to me—I’m quite used to their pity and amusement. However…” His brow furrowed and he shot her a look of concern. “I can certainly understand if you think it’s a terrible idea. I might be accustomed to being stared at, but enduring public scrutiny is never easy, and it’s not something I would ever force on anyone else.”

  If only he knew.

  “What exactly does the king expect us to do?” Ellie didn’t want to get his hopes up. It was a terrible idea, but she also couldn’t send him back to face his father alone simply because he didn’t have any other friends. She’d been friendless herself for too long to abandon him to that fate.

  “I don’t actually know,” Cam admitted. “He didn’t say. He just asked us to come back tomorrow with our closest friend, and that’s you.”

  She was his closest friend? A rush of warmth and longing left Elisette choking back what would probably be a quite humiliating bout of tears. She had no idea what a frog looked like when it cried, but whenever she cried as a human, her pale skin would go blotchy and her nose would swell up and her eyes would turn into puffy red slits.

  Probably the frog would be more attractive, but Ellie had never wished so badly to have her self back again.

  She wanted to go to the assembly with Prince Cambren. She would be proud to stand beside him as a human and claim his friendship, and she wanted him to be able to hold his head up and be proud of her friendship too. But thanks to Mortimer, that wasn’t what was going to happen.

  Ellie owed the prince too much to refuse, so she would help him in any way he asked, but apparently the court already considered him odd. Ellie could guess well enough what sort of mockery he would be forced to endure for bringing a frog to his father’s court.

  She felt a fat, froggy tear roll down her cheek. Prince Cambren was the best person she’d ever known. He’d never made her feel awkward or foolish, and always treated her with respect. He’d done everything he could to make her life as a frog more bearable, even sacrificing his time to keep her from despair.

  She’d wanted a way to repay him, and now she had that chance. She just wished it wasn’t going to end up hurting the man she cared about so deeply.

  “All right,” she said, blinking away the tears. “I’ll do it.”

  “You will?” Cambren sounded genuinely shocked.

  Ellie hopped over to his pile of hay and rolled her eyes up at him. “I’d like to establish now that I don’t expect this to go well. No one else is going to be amused, and they’ll probably throw me out. But you’re my friend too, and frogs don’t have so many friends they can afford to lose one over a tiny little thing like a royal assembly.”

  “Thank you!” The prince’s whole face lit up with his smile. “It will be all right, I promise. All we have to do is show up, and it’ll all be over quickly. Then we can work on finding a way to break your curse and get your life back.”

  “Right,” she scoffed. “And what if tomorrow you actually succeed? What if your father picks you?”

  Cambren’s face fell. “You mean what if I have to be king.”

  “That does seem like a very real possibility,” she reminded him. “Since Dauntry has already failed once. And even if he succeeds, as you said, he might want it too much to ever be a good ruler. You might be the best choice.”

  “There’s still Eldrick,” Cambren said hopefully. “I can’t picture Father picking me over him. He knows I’m not very good at formality or ceremony, and I’m positively hopeless at diplomacy.”

  “But you’re very good with people,” Ellie argued, hating to hear him criticize himself so harshly. “You’re kind and loyal and honest, and you care about others’ feelings.”

  “Do I?” he asked, a faint smile appearing on his lips. “Thank you for your confidence, but I still can’t imagine myself being king.” He chuckled. “I doubt my subjects can either. They’d be too afraid that all the other kings and queens might come to visit and find me mucking out the horse barn. And what princess would want to establish an alliance of marriage with a king who limps and can’t manage to dress himself properly on formal occasions?”

  Ellie was surprised by a quick stab of fury at the idea of some snooty princess rejecting Cambren. “Well, then you’ll just have to wait until you find someone smart enough to see what a thoughtful, intelligent king you would be.”

  He laughed merrily. “Only a true friend would make the effort to find so many virtues in me,” he said, “so I thank you.”

  He didn’t believe her.

  “You…” Ellie sputtered in sudden outrage. “Just… just stop!”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop being such a ninny!” she demanded fiercely
, remembering a little too late that she was addressing a prince.

  Cambren’s head jerked up and they stared at each other for a moment, before the prince burst out laughing again.

  “I can’t believe you just called me a ninny.”

  “Neither can I,” Ellie croaked, completely humiliated. “I’m terribly sorry. I suppose it’s a habit left over from… never mind.” She’d almost brought up her sisters. She didn’t want him to know she had sisters.

  “The point is,” she said hastily, “you need to stop convincing yourself you’re not as good a man as your brothers. Being king… it isn’t something you’re either born for or not. Lots of people have ended up with crowns they didn’t expect. You already have the things that can’t be taught, like compassion, and the ability to listen, which your brother Dauntry doesn’t have, and probably never will. The rest, you’ll grow into, like an apprenticeship, or a craft. I’m sure your father wouldn’t expect you to know how to be king right away.”

  Cambren took a deep breath. “You’re right, as usual. And I thank you for your confidence. I really shouldn’t be so worried. It’s probably just that I selfishly prefer to continue as I am—with my horses and my books and my quiet, undemanding days.”

  “That does sound rather lovely,” Elisette admitted. “Well, aside from the horses.”

  “You don’t like horses?” Cambren stared at her with mock horror.

  “It’s not so much that I don’t like them,” she hedged, “I just haven’t spent much time around them. They seem very large and unpredictable to me, even when I wasn’t small enough to be squashed flat by an indiscriminate step.”

  “I can see that I’m going to have to remedy that,” Cambren said decisively. “After we break your curse, I will simply have to teach you to ride.”

  “Of course,” Ellie said softly. “After.”

  But she knew better, even if he didn’t. She remembered their conversation at the pond, about friends and kings, and saw his virtues far more clearly than he ever could. His father might very well choose him, and if he did, Cambren would not be able to continue being a part of this strange friendship, no matter how much he might want to.