The Frog Prince (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 9)

by K. M. Shea

  Ariane was shocked on behalf of the maid—with the exception of Princess Elle, Loire nobility didn’t just speak to servants—but the maid fared better and executed a pretty curtsey, and replied in a lowered voice that Princess Elle was on her way.

  “I am famished,” a young male declared as he swaggered into the entrance hall, another woman at his side.

  “Prince Gerhart and Fürstin Elise of Arcainia,” the footman shouted.

  “I offered you candied nuts at the last rest stop,” Fürstin Elise said gently. She was the opposite of Crown Princess Gabrielle with dark eyes and long curly brown hair that was pulled back with a red ribbon. Her dress was simpler—almost uniform-like—as the gown was black with white sleeves, gold trim, and a red sash.

  Prince Gerhart wore more fashionable clothes—though his were elegantly understated—and while Crown Princess Gabrielle’s gaze was friendly and Fürstin Elise’s focused, Prince Gerhart’s seemed more…observational.

  “Don’t spare him any sorry feelings, Sister. He’s old enough to see to himself,” a handsome man called as he glided into the room with two giants at his back.

  “His Majesty Crown Prince Steffen, Prince Mikkael, and Prince Nickolas,” the footman said.

  Ariane stared at the small crowd of Arcainian royalty. How many representatives did they send?

  The man who spoke last had to be Crown Prince Steffen, for he approached Crown Princess Gabrielle and kissed her square on the lips—squashing the black cat between them who yowled in objection. “Where do their highnesses want us?” he asked.

  “This lovely young lady said Princess Elle will arrive shortly and tell us herself.” Crown Princess Gabrielle cast another beautiful smile at the maid.

  “That is very good of the princess,” Prince Gerhart said as he inspected the room with an evil eye.

  The cat snorted. “This Summit is nothing more than an attempt at sweet-talking the continent into playing nice. You can rest assured that Loire will be on their best behavior.”

  Crown Princess Gabrielle jostled her arms. “Just as we will be, Puss. So sheathe those claws of yours.”

  “You dare to tell me to play nice? I taught you everything you know!” the cat objected.

  Crown Prince Steffen slipped an arm around his wife’s waist and frowned down at the cat. “I miss the days you had to pretend to be mute.”

  ‘Puss’ sniffed. “And I long for the day you have something of intelligence to say, bumpkin-head.”

  Prince Mikkael and Prince Nickolas—the two remaining men who appeared to be twins, though one of them wore an expression of curiosity and cheer and the other was as expressive as a wall—slowly approached their siblings.

  The expressive one folded his arms behind his head as he strolled along. “Gerhie—did you really need so many trunks? I feel bad for the footmen who have to drag them up to your room.”

  Prince Gerhart glared at him. “Perhaps it is because I choose to wear different clothes every night and day as opposed to wearing the same uncreative uniform until it smells.”

  “That can’t be it,” the twin said. “You had more trunks than Elise and Gabi—and they had to stuff dresses in there.”

  Before the siblings could argue any further, Princess Elle glided down the stairs with a bright smile. “Welcome, Your Highnesses, to Chanceux Chateau. I am Princess Elle—wife of Prince Severin.”

  All the siblings bowed their heads—except for Crown Prince Steffen and Crown Princess Gabrielle, who outranked the Loire Princess.

  “Thank you for the invitation.” Crown Princess Gabrielle gave Princess Elle a small but friendly smile. “We are honored to be here.”

  Prince Gerhart moved to stand with his sister-in-law. “We are also grateful that you undertook this massive task, and we hope to work together for the good of the continent.”

  “Of course,” Princess Elle said. “I imagine you would like to see your rooms? If you would come this way, I will show them to you.”

  Ariane and every servant in the room tried to discreetly watch the Arcainian representatives sweep after their Loire mistress.

  “A strange brand of royals, indeed,” murmured a maid at Ariane’s side.

  Ariane juggled her bucket and the beeswax. “Oh?”

  “Princess Gabrielle is a commoner, you know,” the maid said.

  “Really? I thought she was a marquise.”

  “She became a marquise after killing an ogre.” The maid clasped a hand to her heart.

  Ariane eyed her, wondering why a Chanceux Chateau servant—who served Princess Elle the ex-Ranger—would find that disconcerting. She was equally surprised when another maid peeled off the wall and planted her hands on her hips.

  “What would you know?” the new maid asked. “You are a Loire palace maid.”

  Ahhh, that explains it. Sensing a budding argument, Ariane dipped a curtsey, then swerved around the pair. Ariane didn’t have much of an opinion about royalty and their duties. She only cared that they ruled well. Still, the subject of royalty was a complex topic in Loire, given that Prince Severin and Princess Elle were widely admired, and though Prince Lucien was the darling of the courts, he was known to be an idiot.

  In fact, the only reason why the country very likely had not been divided into camps of various ideologies was because Prince Lucien made it plain he expected Prince Severin to be his primary advisor, and Prince Severin made it clear he would never rule.

  Politics, Ariane shook her head. It’s best not to get involved. Cleaning, on the other hand, that is far more productive! Ariane pushed the notion of princesses and princes out of her mind and hurried for the dining room, anxious to get started on her next task.

  Lucien peered up at Severin and Elle from a red pillow that had been positioned on Severin’s desk. “How could you do this to me?!”

  Severin rubbed his eyes. “Two assassination attempts are two too many, Lucien. We had to take severe measures to protect you.”

  “Assign guards to me and get me a food taster! Either of those plans are far more logical than turning me into a frog!” He tried to slap his front left foot on the velvet cushion for emphasis, but only succeeded in throwing off his balance and almost falling on his now-horizontal face.

  Adjusting to his new—temporary—frog body was proving to be quite difficult. His senses were different—in particular his sight—and now he could barely move faster than a waddle. (He was a very fat frog. And while he could have bursts of speed, hopping down the hallway at anything more than a brisk walk was impossible.)

  “I apologize, but I don’t regret your temporary form,” Severin said. “Lady Enchantress Angelique assured me you could withstand a drop from a third-story window, and your skin should be all but impossible to pierce now.”

  “I don’t care if being a frog makes me immortal—you didn’t have to do this!”

  “The King gave the command,” Severin said.

  “Because you gave him the idea?” Lucien guessed.

  Severin blinked. “Yes.”

  “Why?” Lucien fidgeted on his cushion. “Why would you do this when there are a million less horrible things we could have done?”

  “You are right, Lucien,” Elle said. “There are other precautions we could have taken. But, to be blunt, this time it’s too critical.”

  “What do you mean?” Lucien asked.

  “The Summit is important,” Severin said. “We have to unite what countries we can, or the continent might be lost. You know this.”

  “Yes,” Lucien said in a sulking tone. “So?”

  “We cannot focus on your safety at this time,” Severin said. “The Summit must be foremost.”

  “Getting Angelique to turn you into a frog was the best way to keep you safe while expending the least amount of force,” Elle leaned against Severin’s chair and draped an arm across her husband’s shoulders. “Since we cannot give your situation the attention required for keeping you alive—at this time—this was the best alternative.”
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  Lucien wanted to storm and shout, but there was truth to their words. Though many brushed it off, saying the sudden increase in monsters and attacks against royalty was part of a pattern, Lucien knew better. The moment Severin had been cursed for no apparent reason, Lucien had been on his guard against magic. He didn’t particularly care what happened in the rest of the world, but Severin had been attacked. That was unforgiveable.

  “You will only remain as a frog for the duration of the Summit,” Severin said. “Once it is over, we will be able to reevaluate the threat against you.”

  Lucien briefly puffed up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Elle snorted. “If we had, you would have run off.”

  “I would not have!”

  Severin and Elle exchanged glances. Lucien would have grimaced at the exchange—if he could have. Elle has done a lot of good for Severin…but she’s also given Severin a scheming partner he wouldn’t have had previously! Lucien ignored the nagging thought that he was jealous of their closeness, and instead croaked—which sounded like a sheep with indigestion problems. “I need wine.”

  “If you were less prone to drinking and more prone to paying attention in those classes the King still makes you take, we would have told you,” Elle said sourly.

  “Elle,” Severin said in a warning tone.

  “You may enable him, Severin, but I’m not going to.” Elle lifted her chin and braced herself against the desk. “I know you’re smarter than you pretend to be, Lucien. Your whole family knows—you couldn’t run the Rangers so efficiently otherwise. But unless you wise up and start acting like a real crown prince, we’ll be forced to treat you like the idiot you pretend to be. That is why you were left out of the decision.”

  Lucien croaked angrily. “You have no right to judge me! I do what I can—but we can’t all be brilliant like you and Severin. Some of us aren’t as clever, and that’s all there is to it!”

  Elle snorted. “You can’t possibly claim you are unintelligent. You knew I was Ranger Seventy-Eight when Severin couldn’t even recall that I was a woman!”

  “Elle, that’s enough,” Severin said in a gentle tone. He picked up Elle’s right hand and tugged her backwards. The ex-Ranger sighed and nodded to Severin.

  Lucien, however, was not so easily appeased. He was angry enough to throw a wine glass, but at the moment he couldn’t even slam a door shut. “I don’t have to listen to your preaching. I’m leaving.” He made a show of turning around so his back was to them.

  “I’ll call for Henry,” Severin said. “He’ll escort you around.”

  Lucien had to swallow a croak—which burned in his heart instead.

  Elle walked around Severin’s desk so she once again faced Lucien. “I can take you to your room. You’re a well-built frog, but I can handle it.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere right now,” Lucien said.

  “Will you attend the Summit, still?” Severin asked as he joined his wife.

  “Of course,” Lucien grumbled, though he was tempted to refuse. Severin so rarely asks me for anything, I had better do this. Even if it’s going to be the most humiliating experience ever.

  Severin nodded. A moment passed before a rare teasing light entered his eyes. “If you’re so against being a frog, you could always break the spell.”

  Lucien released a wheezing hiss. “Blackguard.”

  Severin outright smiled—another rare expression. “I can recall the many times you reminded me I could break my curse.”

  Lucien tried to roll his eyes, but his frog eyeballs didn’t work the same way as his human ones. “I regret ever pushing you towards anyone—and I have apologized for that numerous times! Besides, it would be very hard to break my spell thanks to the specifications the Lady Enchantress put on me.”

  Elle laughed. “Indeed.”

  “It would be rather hard to find someone who dislikes you,” Severin said.

  “Agreed,” Lucien said.

  Elle paused. “Wait, what?”

  “Lady Enchantress Angelique said I had to find someone who found me distasteful and get them to fall in love with me,” Lucien said. “Finding a girl who dislikes me that much would be quite hard.”

  Elle looked back and forth between Lucien and Severin. “You both truly believe that?”

  “Yes,” Lucien said.

  “I am not so blinded to believe that Lucien is beloved by all, but he is universally liked,” Severin said. “He is quite popular among nobles and the ladies of the court.”

  Elle scrunched her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sometimes you two are so disconnected from the regular populace, it’s offensive.”

  “What do you mean?” Lucien asked.

  “I mean there are plenty of working-class girls who would love to knee you in the gut,” Elle said. “They’re in the royal palace, even. I met many of them while working as a Ranger.”

  Severin nodded. “I would expect as much; however, we are in Chanceux. The only eligible women here are members of royalty or nobility, and my staff—towards whom Lucien will not make improper advances.”

  Lucien gulped. There was a slight warning of thunder in Severin’s voice. I forgot how he dotes on his servants.

  “There are palace servants here, as well,” Elle pointed out.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Severin said. “This is only for two or three weeks at most. He wouldn’t be able to romance a girl so quickly.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Lucien croaked. “I could too!”

  Elle—goaded on by her husband’s observation—grinned slyly. “Three weeks is not so bad, Lucien. Severin was cursed for roughly three years—mind you, he was a cat, which is far more likeable. Oh, yes! Severin! Did you know Crown Princess Gabrielle brought her talking cat? I was going to see if he would like to meet Esses.”

  Lucien tilted his froggy head—which meant his whole body moved. “What is Esses?”

  She grinned. “My forest cat from Queen Cinderella!”

  Disgruntled, Lucien settled down into his cushion again. “You are obsessed with cats,” he decreed. “You may return me to my room.”

  Severin picked up the cushion with such care, Lucien didn’t even fumble. “I’m sorry we had to do this, Lucien. But our choices were limited.”

  “Yes, yes,” Lucien grumbled. “You just better make sure this ruddy Summit is worth it.”

  “It will be,” Severin promised. “We will have to make arrangements for you to be carried around now. I would normally assign a guard escort, but I would prefer to keep the number of people aware of your situation limited. Perhaps they could dress as servants.”

  Elle snorted. “No soldier of yours could ever pass off as a footman. Henry is as close as we can get.”

  As Severin carried Lucien from his study, Lucien mulled over their conversation. He doesn’t think I can win over some shrewish girl set against me, does he? Hmm….

  Summit representatives continued to arrive all afternoon and evening, but the majority of them arrived promptly in the morning. This was something of a shock as they hadn’t been expected for another day or so.

  Perhaps it shows that Severin is right; things may really be worse than we estimate. Everyone seems eager enough to discuss the matter at any rate. Lucien peered out of an open window from the comfort of his cushion as he heard trumpets announce the arrival of yet another guest.

  His window overlooked the vast chateau gardens. A number of the representatives—mostly of the female persuasion—were touring the gardens whilst Severin and Elle greeted their early guests. Lucien could even see gold-haired Sylvie—his little sister—weaving in and out of the throng of representatives, holding her gold-colored ball as she smiled at everyone.

  In addition to the foreign lords and ladies, a number of servants edged through the gardens as well—carrying trays of drinks and pastries.

  As he watched everyone chatter and laugh, Elle’s words echoed through Lucien’s mind. “…there are plenty of working-class
girls who would love to knee you in the gut.”

  Lucien tried to sniff, but it came out as more of a croak. “What does she know? I don’t care what some commoner thinks of me!”

  “Time to be wettened, Your Highness,” Henry announced.

  Lucien grumbled and waddled off his cushion to sit on the moist towel Henry had placed on the window frame. “This is stupid.”

  “The Lady Enchantress made it very clear that if your frog skin is not appropriately moist, you will experience discomfort.” Henry squeezed water from a handkerchief over Lucien.

  The water felt good—though Lucien would never admit it. “The Lady Enchantress is secretly a hag.”

  Henry stared down at Lucien dispassionately.

  “I know, I know, she was just following Severin’s orders. But I didn’t have to be a frog,” Lucien complained.

  “I suppose not,” Henry said.

  “For once we agree,” Lucien said.

  Henry continued. “She could have made you a snail.”

  Lucien shivered in horror at the idea. Would I even be able to speak if I were a snail? He glanced up at Henry as he thumped back onto his cushion. “You are too infuriatingly thoughtful.”

  Henry bowed slightly. “As you say, Your Highness.” He walked away, unbothered and as steady as always.

  Henry was not the sort of man Lucien would normally want as a valet. Indeed, before Henry, Lucien carefully selected fashionable men who said yes to his every whim. However, when Severin had finally grown gentrified enough—in other words, when he became Loire’s commanding general—he had announced his intension to take Henry on as his valet as Henry was an ex-soldier who had been injured on duty and could no longer fight.

  With Henry selecting Severin’s clothes, it was unlikely Lucien would ever see his brother out of a military uniform, which called for drastic measures. Lucien had agreed to take Henry on as his personal servant as long as Lucien was allowed to pick Severin’s valet. (He had selected Burke, who was still fighting an uphill battle to get Severin to wear anything besides dark colors to this day.)