by K. M. Shea
But, having worked in the palace for two years, Ariane hadn’t ever witnessed any of the common rumors—increased goblin attacks, rogue mages running amok, and more.
Ariane reached for the cleaning cloth she had dropped and clenched it in her hands when she recalled the attack on Prince Lucien. I guess I can’t say that anymore. Perhaps the rumors are right, and darkness is stirring.
Chapter 2
The Arrogant Frog
Chanceux Chateau was even more beautiful than Ariane expected. The grounds teemed with flowers and buds arranged in painstakingly-cared-for beds, bushes, and pots, and the air was fragrant with their scent. Ariane had never seen so much color, even in the royal gardens!
Inside there were meticulously polished suits of armor and vases upon vases of flowers. The flooring was marble tediously cut and arranged in diamond patterns; it was all very tasteful and pleasantly clean. (There were also quite a few paintings of black cats, which Ariane thought was a little odd, but assumed it had something to do with Prince Severin’s stint as a beast.)
Ariane eyed a cobweb in a high corner of the hallway as she and the other temporary maids followed a Chanceux footman down a hallway. They soon entered a splendid dining room with an immense fireplace Ariane just itched to clean.
A tall, stork-like woman stood next to the gigantic wooden table that claimed most of the floorspace. She had papers and charts spread across its smooth surface, and she looked up from them only when the other maids fell silent.
“Welcome to Chanceux Chateau,” she said in a wry voice. “I am the housekeeper, Heloise, and for the duration of the Summit, you are all members of my staff. You will abide by Chanceux rules—though they are not dissimilar to the conduct expected by all palace staff. However, allow me to be clear. This is not a holiday. You will work hard to make this event as smooth and pleasant as possible. Much rides on this Summit and the alliances that will be created here, so it is your job to make it so the visiting nobility and representatives can focus solely on their work.” Heloise glanced down at her papers.
Madame Heloise seems to be more informed on the particulars of the Summit…I wonder if that means the rest of the household does as well? Perhaps I’ll learn more about the state of things while I work. Ariane kept her hands folded in front of her as she listened.
“Your main duties,” Heloise continued, “will be to clean a set of rooms we will assign to you momentarily. After you finish cleaning those rooms each day, you are to report to Chanceux staff for additional duties—which may vary from serving food to straightening salons and other meeting rooms. Now, for your assignments…” She motioned for Ariane—who stood at the front of the flock of maids—to step forward.
“Your name?” Heloise asked.
“Ariane.”
“Ariane, you’ll oversee Crown Prince Lucien’s and Princess Sylvie’s rooms. Good luck—you’ll need it. One of the other maids will show you to the rooms.”
Ariane took her assignment with a curtsey, though she wanted to make a face. Princess Sylvie—the youngest child of the King and Queen of Loire—was fine. On the other hand… Prince Lucien—of course I would get the slob. Ariane loved cleaning. What she did not love was cleaning the same thing over and over again because some stupid sod kept messing it up. Unfortunately, Lucien was infamous for his disorder.
A Chanceux Chateau maid who lingered behind Heloise smiled widely at Ariane and motioned for her to step aside so Heloise could speak to the next girl. “Hello, Ariane, was it? I’m Marcelle. Heloise said you’re to see to Prince Lucien’s and Princess Sylvie’s rooms, yes? This way!” Marcelle was older than Ariane—who had just turned nineteen that winter—but she moved quickly and kept up a steady flow of chatter and smiles as she led Ariane out of the dining room and into the main entrance hall.
“I’m so glad you and the other maids have come.” Marcelle started up a set of stairs. “We are already up to our eyebrows in work, and the representatives haven’t even arrived! But of course Prince Severin and Princess Elle would be aware of that and arrange for additional help.”
“You enjoy working for the prince and princess?” Ariane asked.
“Oh, yes,” Marcelle said. “All of us here in Chanceux adore them. This way.”
As Marcelle led Ariane up a hallway, Ariane was split between trying to record a mental map of the chateau and glancing discreetly at Marcelle.
When Prince Severin had been cursed a number of years ago—the curse Princess Elle broke—rumor had it that his staff had been cursed as well. Supposedly they had all been forced to wear masks, and their voices were stolen from them for the duration of the curse.
Was Marcelle on staff when this happened?
“Your assignment is a little trickier, I’m afraid,” Marcelle said, “for Prince Lucien and Princess Sylvie are both staying in the family wing where Prince Severin and Princess Elle live. All other nobles are being housed in guest rooms.”
“In that case, is there anything I need to be aware of? Any special precautions I should take?” Ariane asked.
Marcelle shook her head. “The main hitch is that Princess Sylvie won’t be attending the summit—she’s too young, but she pleaded with Prince Severin and Princess Elle until they let her come. You will need to be cautious about timing your cleaning around her lessons. The princess’s schedule aside, the chateau regular staff will keep this wing in order. Though you will have to walk farther than your coworkers, and you’ll be the only palace maid in the wing.”
Dealing with her unusual schedule shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll make certain I clean her room first, when everyone has gone down to break their fast.
“I must admit I’m surprised,” Marcelle said, jarring Ariane from her thoughts. “Originally we Chanceux maids were assigned to clean Prince Lucien’s and Princess Sylvie’s rooms. Something must have come up.”
Ariane, thinking of Princess Elle’s personal visit and request, raised an eyebrow. “Yes…something.”
“This door leads into Prince Lucien’s rooms—it’s the same room he stays in whenever he visits—and these are Princess Sylvie’s rooms.” Marcelle pointed to two large doors that were positioned across the hall from each other. “Prince Lucien’s room has already been cleaned for the day, but Princess Sylvie’s still needs to be seen to. Normally, you’ll have to carry the linens and cleaning supplies yourself, but I took the liberty and left everything in Sylvie’s room. When you’re done, return to the dining room. Heloise has some last-minute projects we must tackle. Can you find your way back?”
Ariane mentally retraced their route and nodded. “I believe so.”
“Good. If you get lost, don’t hesitate to ask a Chanceux staff member.” Marcelle opened the door to the young princess’s rooms. “That is all. Welcome to Chanceux Chateau, Ariane.” She smiled, then turned on her heels and hurried back the way she had come, the black and white of her uniform a stark marker against the colorful carpet and elaborate decorations.
Ariane ducked into the room that was to be Princess Sylvie’s and rolled up her sleeves as she glanced around. “I’ll have to air the place out, put fresh linens on the bed, and shake out the drapes for certain.” She pulled the curtains aside, letting sunlight stream into the room—which was not nearly as dust-covered as she had originally estimated. “I should wait to make the bed until I get all of the dust out…” she murmured as she opened the windows.
Soon, she was immersed in her task, happy and completely unaware of the chaos that was about to rain down upon her.
Ariane bit her lower lip and squinted as she rubbed at the gold framework that encased a sparkling mirror.
Polishing the mirror was the last task she needed to complete before she could confidently declare the room cleaned. She buffed out the fingerprints she had left when holding the gold frame, then stepped back and grinned in satisfaction.
“It's done.” Ariane turned in a circle, her eyes flicking from the newly polished mirror to the freshened drapes, plumped
pillows, and the wooden armoire and end tables that gleamed in the sunlight. She nodded as she completed her inspection and returned her gaze to the mirror. “Just as it should be,” she told her reflection. She took a moment to critically eye herself, searching for imperfections in her uniform or hair that had pulled loose from the tight braid she had wrestled it into for the day.
She had always liked her hair, which at times was a little too messy but could easily be tamed by a braid. (She forgave the messiness because it was the same shade as a stained oak table directly after it had been polished.)
Gazing into the mirror, she saw her apron was a little skewed, and she had unfortunately collected a few smudges of ash from ruthlessly attacking the fireplace. But she was still presentable, though the smudges would bother her for the rest of the day.
Once her white apron was straightened, Ariane nodded, then gathered up the cleaning cloths, her wooden bucket of soapy water, and the block of beeswax she had applied to a few nicked corners of the armoire.
Marcelle said to return to the dining room for my next task, she thought as she hurried to the door. I wonder what Heloise will have us do. Perhaps there are some additional rooms that must be cleaned.... Ariane paused when she ducked into the hallway and blinked in surprise at the sight of Prince Lucien speaking to a gorgeous woman and strolling down the hallway.
She had to be a mage, for her dress seemed to bleed from one beautiful shade of color to the next, and her eye color changed based on the lighting and the way she tilted her head. However, mage or not, she was absolutely stunning.
Her beauty seemed to have a profound effect on Lucien, for the prince wore the smarmy smile Ariane had seen him use on the most beautiful daughters of Loire nobility at the handful of state events at which she had served. Though she was tempted to shake her head, Ariane kept her face blank as she turned to wipe down the door to Lucien’s room.
“Will you not spend the afternoon with me, Lady Enchantress?” Lucien asked.
If Ariane hadn't been trained to be discreet, she would have dropped her cleaning materials. An enchantress? Soap suds and rags, is he being bold. Usually magic users as powerful as enchanters and enchantresses only married other high-ranking mages, if they married at all—though it was not unheard of for powerful magic users to marry nobility as well. Still, Prince Lucien's words were rather daring considering his companion looked as charmed as a cat that had fallen into a washtub.
“I'm afraid I will have to refuse,” the Lady Enchantress said in a voice that possessed the smooth singsong quality of an alto singer.
The prince woefully shook his head, making a handsome picture of disappointment. “How could you be so cruel? My day shall be ruined if you do not agree to a stroll through my brother's gardens.” Prince Lucien spoke in a winning voice that made Ariane want to roll her eyes. Amusingly enough, it seemed have the same effect on the Lady Enchantress, for she stopped walking.
“I'm afraid your day will be ruined then, for you will not be going for a stroll regardless of whether or not I accompany you.”
Prince Lucien meticulously fixed a pleat in his puffed petticoat breeches. “Whatever do you mean?”
The Lady Enchantress smiled. Though the expression made her eyes sparkle and added to her beauty so much so it was hard to breathe while looking at her, Ariane could detect the faintest trace of glee in the setting of her lips. “Due to the recent attempts on your life, both your brother and your father officially requested that I intervene and do whatever is necessary to see that you are properly protected during this insecure time.”
Lucien abruptly grew several inches taller as he straightened up and pulled back from the enchantress. He laughed. “You can't mean to...” His words died as he shook his head.
Lady Enchantress's smile grew sweet. “Oh, but I do. Please allow me to assure you that I take great pleasure in this act. Prince Lucien, I curse you to take the form of what you really are, a frog.” Silver magic that glittered like stardust swirled around the Lady Enchantress. Lucien turned and tried to run away, but the magic snapped down around him like a bear trap, completely encasing him.
His howls of anger were still audible through the cocoon of magic, and there was a new spring in the Lady Enchantress's steps as she moved closer to him. “Until I break your curse, or until a girl who finds you as distasteful as I do comes to love you and gives you true love’s kiss, you shall remain a frog.”
Something fell with a splat inside the cocoon. When the cloud of magic dispersed, it left behind a frog the size of a dessert plate.
The enchantress smiled down at the frog, and the frog stared up at the enchantress.
Finally, a voice—Prince Lucien’s—erupted from the frog. “What did you do to me?!”
“Exactly as I said: I turned you into a frog,” the enchantress said.
Ariane had to hold her breath to keep from bursting into great bellows of laughter as she finished with the door. Finally! Someone has finally given Prince Lucien what he deserves—though it would have been even more appropriate if he were a pig!
“A frog?” Prince Lucien’s words were nearly lost in a froggy croak. “Why?!”
“You needed to be small.”
“Then you should have turned me into a kitten!”
“I could have,” the Lady Enchantress acknowledged. “But I just didn’t want to. Now hold still—there are a few more spells I have to place on you.”
Ariane judged she could not, as a proper palace servant, remain much longer. (Both because it would be obvious she was listening in on them and because she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold in her cackles.) She shifted her hold on her things, then hurried down the hallway, pausing to curtsey to both the enchantress and the frog prince.
Neither of them seemed to give her any notice, and Ariane happily scurried down the hallway.
No matter how dirty Prince Lucien gets his room during this Summit, it will all be worth it! Prince Lucien—a frog! This is too splendid!
Ariane chortled to herself as she hurried down a staircase, carefully retracing the path Marcelle had led her down.
She made it all the way to the grand entrance hall before she forced herself to temper her snorts of glee. The room swirled black and white as a flock of Chanceux maids scrubbed fiercely at any metal work, straightened paintings and portraits, and fussed over the plush carpets.
Ariane paused a moment to orient herself and turn in the direction of the dining hall. Before she could take a step towards it, a footman opened the front door and slipped inside.
He leaned back against the door with wide eyes. “The first set of guests have arrived!”
“What?” A maid shrieked. “No one is scheduled to arrive today!”
“I know, but they’ve come,” the footman said.
Another maid pushed her way through the throng of her coworkers. “Who is it?”
The footman pushed his hair out of his face. “Arcainia.”
A maid near Ariane grunted. “It would be Arcainia—those bluestockings.”
Arcainia was Loire’s eastern neighbor. It was a small but powerful country due to its booming economy and extremely well-organized government. The royal family could boast responsibility for both of those feats, given that every single one of King Henrik’s royal children played a role in the government. Why, King Henrik’s foster daughter was said to run the treasury, and one of the princes was the head of the agricultural department.
Personally, I think it’s admirable, Ariane mused as she adjusted her grip on her block of beeswax—the heat from her hands was starting to make the stuff malleable. But I’m just a maid. (Most of Loire thought Arcainian royalty had to be half mad to be willing to work.)
Ariane started towards the dining hall, when a fellow maid grabbed ahold of her arm. “Quick! We must be presentable.”
“I was just going to the dining hall,” Ariane said.
The maid paid her objection no mind and instead dragged Ariane to a wall. The rest o
f the flock hurried to do the same—hiding cleaning rags and swiftly replacing the few items that had been moved to make cleaning easier.
By the time a set of footmen swung the massive double doors open, every staff member had his or her back pressed against a wall and hands serenely folded in front of them with downcast eyes.
Ariane—standing at the back of the room—rebelled against her training as a maid and peeked up, catching sight of the first royal to swirl into the room.
A gorgeous woman with hair of honey-crème and eyes an unusual shade of amber stepped into the hall. Her dress was a beautiful sky blue with gold embroidery that set off her gorgeous smile, and she carried a large black and white cat that sported bronze eyes and a half mustache.
Whoever the woman was, she was probably one of the most beautiful in the world. The Lady Enchantress who had spelled Prince Lucien was even more stunning, yes, but her beauty was other-worldly, like the stars or magic itself. This Arcainian noble, however, felt closer, and her beauty was more similar to a flower.
A footman cleared his throat. “Her Majesty Princess Gabrielle—Crown Princess of Arcainia and Marquise of Carabas—and her royal feline, Master…Puss.”
“It’s Roland,” the cat yowled.
Ariane blinked. …The cat talks?
Crown Princess Gabrielle laughed. “Give it a rest, Puss. Our official invitation named you Puss.”
“Yes, that’s because you wrote to the organizers and called me Puss in your letter. You impudent harpy!” the cat complained.
Ariane exchanged glances with the maids on either side of her to assure herself she wasn’t hearing things. Judging by their eyes, which were so widened they were almost popping out of their skulls, she wasn’t.
Crown Princess Gabrielle patted the head of her cat—or quite possibly her captured pet wizard, because animals did not talk—and ventured deeper into the hall, then unexpectedly approached one of the maids positioned at the wall. “I beg your pardon, but are we supposed to go somewhere?”
