A Midwinter's Wedding: A Retelling of The Frog Prince

by Melanie Cellier

  “Yes, me.” The second voice was familiar too. The same pair then. Were the unknown noble and his underling following her around? Or was it just luck that put her in a place to overhear all their conversations?

  “This is the fifth time you’ve accosted me in the last two days. It has to stop, now.” Maybe not all of them, then. She strained her ears to hear whatever came next, while wishing she could have heard the last four conversations.

  “I’m trying to make sure there aren’t any mistakes.” The second voice sounded sullen.

  “Mistakes?” The noble’s voice was slippery and dangerous. “If you want to talk about mistakes, let’s talk about the debacle in the courtyard the other day.”

  Cordelia tried to hold her breath in the long silence that followed, afraid they might hear it.

  The noble’s sinister chuckle broke the stillness. “Nothing to say? I thought as much. All you need to do is your job, and we won’t have any more trouble. Do you understand?”

  The clear sound of someone spitting onto the ground floated over the bushes. “I understand.”

  Surely his reluctance sounded as loudly to the noble as it did to her.

  “Oh, and don’t go accosting anyone else either. The parfumier told me you turned up at his stall while the prince was there.”

  Cordelia stiffened. So the second man was the rough looking worker from the perfume stall. Finally she had a face to put to one of the voices.

  “I didn’t realise it was the prince, or I would have stayed away, wouldn’t I?”

  “Would you?” The noble sounded bored now. “Perhaps you’re crediting yourself with too much good sense.” He sighed. “I’m beginning to think we made the wrong choice when we hired you.”

  The other man swallowed audibly. “Don’t you worry now, there won’t be any more mistakes.”

  “There had better not be.”

  A single pair of footsteps climbed the stairs on to the balcony, approaching the spot where Cordelia waited. She shrunk into the shadows.

  Chapter 9

  A tall man swept past her into the ballroom. Thankfully he didn’t bother looking around the dim balcony, or he might have seen her cowering against the wall of the palace. She caught his profile as he passed one of the bright doorways, and filed the image away. She would recognise him again if she saw him.

  She waited, breathless, but the second man must have exited through the garden. She let out a sigh of relief. That had been close.

  She leapt up. She had to find Rafe. Surely he would believe her now.

  The light and warmth of the ballroom had barely enveloped her when she collided with William.

  He steadied her. “There you are! I think we’re due for another dance.”

  She didn’t even notice his charming smile this time, too busy looking for Rafe.

  “You seem perturbed, Princess. Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you while we dance?”

  She stopped and focussed on him. Perhaps he was right. It was his kingdom after all. He should be informed if danger lurked in it. Nodding, she let him sweep her onto the dance floor.

  “Well?” he prompted after a few steps of silence.

  “It’s a bit of a long story.” Uncertainty gripped her. How could she explain it so it made sense?

  “I don’t think we’ll scandalise anyone too greatly if we dance the next two dances.” He smiled encouragingly at her.

  She took a deep breath and poured out the whole story, from the overheard conversation in her carriage when she first arrived in Northgate, to the one outside the ballroom.

  When she finished, William looked more uncomfortable than worried, and her heart sank. What had Rafe told the Northhelmians about his little sister? Had he told them she was observant and had excellent hearing and recall? Or that she was young and flighty and liked dresses and balls?

  “The accident with the stallion was certainly unfortunate,” he said slowly. “But the injured servants will recover well enough. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling uncomfortable here, but you did say the noble was rebuking the servant for the courtyard incident, didn’t you? That doesn’t sound too ominous.” He looked thoughtful. “Perhaps you’ve stumbled upon the guilty groom. I can’t say it would surprise me that neither he nor his noble master have been willing to own up to it.”

  “So, you haven’t found who’s responsible?”

  “No, but then the whole courtyard was in chaos, and, as I said, it’s not exactly surprising that the guilty party doesn’t want to own up. Thank you for letting me know. Can you point the noble out?”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye out for him, but I think he must have left the ballroom.”

  “Well, if you see him again, can you let me or Marie know? We’ll know who he is. And then I can talk to him about covering the medical expenses for the injured servants. It’s the least he can do, really.”

  Cordelia stared at him. He wanted to tip the man off that she had overheard his conversations, and they knew who he was? She wouldn’t be pointing the man out to him if that was his intention.

  “I’ll keep my eyes open.” She kept her words deliberately vague.

  “Thank you, and don’t worry too much if you don’t see him again. The crown will help the servants with the expenses if he isn’t found. There’s no long-term harm done.”

  Cordelia barely refrained from narrowing her eyes at him. Why did she get the feeling that he didn’t believe she would be able to point the man out?

  Annoyed, she looked away, her gaze glancing over the crowd. A lone figure caught her attention.

  Ferdinand stood to the side of the room, his eyes fixed on Cordelia and William. One of his hands gripped her now full glass, but the other was clenched into a fist. She felt a wave of guilt. He had gone to fetch her another drink, and she had abandoned him. She hoped he hadn’t been worried or spent long looking for her.

  His face didn’t look angry. Instead, a mix of sadness and longing transformed his strange features, and the sight filled her with an emotion too complex to name.

  The song finished and William spun her around one last time. When she stopped, her eyes landed on Priscilla. The maid had appeared from nowhere and was wearing a familiar expression. The face of a chaperone who was determined to do her duty, regardless of the difficulty of her charge.

  Cordelia curtsied to William and escaped to Priscilla’s side with unexpected gratitude. As the young and old woman left the ballroom together, she wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised by her compliance.

  Cordelia spent half the night tossing and turning. After a while, she decided she was angry with William for not taking her more seriously. And, if she was honest, she was disappointed that the handsome prince wasn’t providing the perfect romance she had envisioned.

  But if she had thought this acknowledgment would give her enough closure to fall asleep, she was soon disabused of the notion. Having the faces to go with the voices made the unknown men harder to ignore. She kept replaying the scene with the stallion, trying to remember if the rough-looking servant had been present. But it was a few days ago now, and she hadn’t been looking for him at the time. She just couldn’t be sure.

  Eventually she decided that she would try talking to Rafe again. And after that she spent at least an hour going over the whole story in her mind and trying to put together a compelling case. She was going through it for the fourth time when she finally started to drift into sleep.

  But as her thoughts gave way to dreams, it was Ferdinand’s face that filled her mind. Him returning to the balcony and finding her gone, looking for her and finding her dancing with William, made her a little sick.

  She wasn’t that person. The one who abandoned a friend without a thought because a handsome prince walked past. She had to find him and explain what had happened.

  Unfortunately, William had already talked to Rafe before she found him the next morning.

  “I hear you’ve found our negligent groom, sis,” he said
cheerfully when she tracked him down in the stables.

  She frowned, her carefully rehearsed speech already thrown off. “I truly think it’s more than that, Rafe. You know me. Who did all the rest of you come to when you wanted information about what was going on in the palace? I always seem to hear things. And how many times did I get them wrong?”

  Rafe looked at her and sighed. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Dellie. But this isn’t our palace. You haven’t been here long, and you might be missing subtleties only a Northhelmian would understand. We can’t go around accusing people of vague conspiracies because you got a bad feeling.”

  “We can be on the alert, though! The king and queen could increase the security around the palace, for example.”

  Rafe looked at her for a silent moment, and she tried to calm down. Getting agitated would only make her seem less credible.

  Eventually he shrugged and shook his head. “You overhear something concrete, Dellie, and I’ll take it to King Richard and Queen Louise myself. And in the meantime, if I see anything questionable myself, I promise I’ll let you know.”

  Cordelia took a deep breath and tried not to tear up. Rafe’s words made all too much sense. But it still hurt that her own brother wouldn’t back her up.

  Rafe’s face softened, and he came forward and put an arm around her. “I’m sorry, Dellie. I wish you could relax and have a good time. I’m getting married in a few weeks, and you’ve finally escaped Lanover. We should be celebrating.”

  She gave him a weak smile, and he squeezed her shoulders. “That’s the way!”

  An awkward throat clearing from the entry to the stable made them both turn around. A rush of nerves overwhelmed Cordelia at the sight of Ferdinand. She’d spent so much time rehearsing her now pointless speech to Rafe that she still hadn’t worked out what she was going to say to Ferdy.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highnesses, were you waiting for me?”

  “Waiting for you? No.”

  “Should we have been?” Rafe’s mild question softened the unintended harshness of Cordelia’s reply.

  She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Why couldn’t she seem to say the right thing? Frederic or Clarisse would have had the words to convince everyone to take them seriously. And they would have managed to be polite while they were doing it, too.

  Ferdinand replied to Rafe, but his eyes lingered on Cordelia. “William asked me to choose a new mount for Princess Cordelia. When I saw you both here, I thought perhaps I’d misunderstood, and you’ve been waiting to go for a ride right now.”

  Rafe shook his head. “William is going to make an excellent king–talk about a master of delegation.” He strode forward and clapped Ferdinand on the back. “He’s lucky to have such a good friend he can rely on.”

  “Thanks–I think. Or are you calling me a sucker?” Ferdinand’s face suggested he was unfazed by this suggestion.

  “I wouldn’t dare,” said Rafe with a grin. “You might conscript me into your squad, and then I’d be in trouble.”

  Ferdinand laughed. “There’s always a spot open for you, if you’re interested. I’m sure I could whip you into shape in no time.”

  Rafe put up both hands and began to back away. “I’m sure you could, Ferdy, I’m sure you could.”

  Cordelia giggled behind her hand. She couldn’t conjure up the image of Rafe in the military. Despite his proficiency with most weapons, he had always managed to avoid it at home. Clarisse would say it was because he was too frippery–always laughing and making jokes. But Cordelia suspected he disliked the structure and preferred freedom and independence. He had been the only one of the seven of them to go adventuring, after all.

  Rafe’s backwards steps were taking him slowly out of the barn.

  “You know, Rafe, Northhelm is a very practical country,” said Ferdinand.

  “I’ve noticed,” said Rafe.

  “We expect younger children, even of the nobility, to have useful occupations. You’ll note that even our heir is in a cavalry squad…”

  “An interesting observation, indeed, Ferdy. You alarm me greatly. I think I might go and have a conversation with my bride.”

  He wheeled around and hurried across the courtyard. Ferdinand chuckled as he watched him go, and then glanced at Cordelia.

  “I hope you know I’m only jesting. We wouldn’t really conscript him against his will.”

  “Of course not,” Cordelia smiled at him a little shyly, relieved that he seemed to be treating her normally. “But I’m curious to see what he manages to come up with. Knowing Rafe, he’ll decide on his preferred occupation, and then charm everyone into believing it was their idea.”

  Silence settled between them for a moment before Cordelia spoke again. “I like it.”

  “Like what, Your Highness?”

  “That even the royalty and nobility are expected to be useful.” Perhaps she wouldn’t have spent her childhood feeling so overlooked and inconsequential if she had been given an official role to play in the palace.

  Ferdinand smiled. “It’s the Northhelmian way. William and Marie both struggle a little with the formality here. It’s why Marie likes the Arcadians so much–they’re much more easy going. But I don’t think the two of them realise how ingrained it is–even in them. Duty and service above all else.”

  “Sounds a little dour.”

  “There’s a reason Queen Louise is so beloved. She’s warm and soft and loving, nothing like a typical Northhelmian royal.” He hesitated and cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help but overhear the very end of your conversation. Is that what you were talking to Rafe about? Are you unhappy here in Northhelm?”

  “No, no, not at all! I love it here actually. The cobblestones, the snow, the warm fires. It’s all so picturesque.”

  “It is, isn’t it.” He paused again. “Did you want to go for a ride? Today is the day the townsfolk traditionally put up Midwinter’s decorations. I think you would like it.”

  “Yes, please, that sounds lovely.” Cordelia barely refrained from giving a little bounce.

  She didn’t stop to analyse if the happy bubble of anticipation truly came from Midwinter decorations.

  Chapter 10

  The pretty young mare Ferdinand had chosen for her responded to the lightest of touches. Well-trained, but spirited enough to be interesting. Cordelia couldn’t stop smiling.

  Ferdinand seemed to share her enthusiasm for horses, and they occupied the trip to the main town square with a discussion about her mare, Butterscotch, and some of the other Lanoverian horses she had ridden. Two grooms and two guards trailed behind them.

  When they reached the square, she pulled up and cried out in delight. Large red velvet bows had been tied around the black poles of all the lanterns, and someone had brought in the largest evergreen tree she had ever seen. Children ran around laughing and screaming as several townsfolk placed the final touches on the tree’s decorations.

  Every branch had been covered in coloured glass baubles in gold and red and green. And, interspersed amongst them, were clear glass baubles containing candles. She could only imagine what it looked like at night with the lanterns and candles blazing.

  Most of the buildings surrounding the square had large green wreaths on their doors, many decorated with red velvet bows. Several of them had also laid green boughs along their windowsills and nestled coloured baubles in them.

  She clapped her hands and looked across at Ferdinand. The pleasure in his face as he watched her delight made her look down and blush.

  Before she could think of anything to say, a cry rang across the courtyard. The children had spotted their arrival. A group of older boys broke off from the rest and rushed over towards them.

  “Major, major!” They swarmed around the horses.

  Ferdinand nodded a greeting to them all. “I see your parents have done an excellent job of decorating, as always.”

  “We helped.” One of the young boys thrust out his chest. “I climbed up to put the baubl
es at the top.”

  “A fine feat. You’ll be ready to join my squad in no time.”

  The boy looked almost ready to burst at this praise. Cordelia hid a smile behind her hand as Ferdinand addressed each of the boys. She would never have imagined he was so good with children.

  “Major,” said the oldest one, and Cordelia could tell from the way the rest fell silent that she was about to find out the reason for the enthusiastic greeting. “I went out to the lake this morning, and it’s frozen solid.”

  Cordelia didn’t understand the significance of the statement, but from the hope reflected in every small face turned up to them, she could see that everyone else did. At least half of the children held their breath as they waited for the major’s answer.

  Ferdinand looked over at her with a calculating expression. “Tell me, Princess Cordelia, do you like to skate?”

  “Skate?”

  “Do you have ice skating in Lanover?”

  “Oh!” A picture from one of her childhood storybooks sprang to her mind. Several children gliding across a frozen lake with blades on their shoes. It had looked enchanting. “It doesn’t get cold enough for our lakes to freeze over. I’ve seen pictures of it, though.”

  “Would you like to try it?”

  “Please say yes.” The whispered plea was just loud enough to be audible.

  A slow smile crept across her face. “Why not?” She looked around at the boys. “As long as you promise not to laugh when I fall over.”

  “We won’t let you fall,” said the oldest boy gallantly.

  “Excuse me, Major Frog.” The small voice came from a tiny girl who had crept up amongst the boys and was now tugging at one of Ferdinand’s stirrups.

  Cordelia raised her eyebrows at the unfortunately apt nickname, but Ferdinand ignored it.

  One of the boys elbowed the girl. “Rita!”

  “Oh, sorry.” She looked adorably confused, and Cordelia wanted to slide down and kiss one of the girl’s rosy cheeks. But there were enough children around the Lanoverian palace for her to know that such an action would not be appreciated. An affront on the small child’s dignity.