“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.)
As a result, Lucien was doomed to retain Henry until one of them died of old age—for the moment he dismissed him, it was certain Severin would hire him on as a second valet. Burke’s job was already difficult enough; he didn’t need two broody soldiers trying to militarize Severin’s wardrobe, so Henry stayed with Lucien.
Lucien croaked. I am so self-sacrificing. He watched the two Arcainian Princesses who had come stroll around a large pond arm-in-arm. Arcainia certainly has no lost love for me. Perhaps the younger princess could break this spell.
For a moment, Lucien wanted to growl in anger.
None of this was fair.
His father insisted on treating him like a child; Severin—though well meaning—thought he couldn’t be trusted with his own welfare; Elle implied he could do better and now he was a frog? Even the thought that he required Henry to dump water on him was maddening.
How dare they decide my intelligence level? He silently stewed. I am a dunce compared to them. I wish they would all realize that and leave me alone!
He moodily waddled towards the edge of the cushion. The only thing I’m good for is socializing. I should be down there, flattering and winking. But instead I’m a frog!
Lucien angrily slapped the cushion with his moist front legs. This unfortunately made the cushion tilt alarmingly forward and tumble straight out of the window.
Lucien slid off the pillow as they were both airborne. He tried to yell, but all he could do was release a massive croak. Curse this wretched frog form! He thought as he continued to fall, hurtling towards the unforgiving ground.
Ariane paused, perking her ears when she thought she heard a tremendous splat. A glance around the gardens seemed to show that no one else had noticed or heard it, for the representatives’ chatter continued, and none of the other servants paused or turned in the direction of the sound.
I must have imagined it. Ariane squared her shoulders and carried a platter layered with delicious pastries through the fragrant gardens. The air smelled sweet with flowers, and the sun was quite warm—making Ariane extra glad her hair was firmly tucked up in a braid—as she marched for the gazebo perched against the pond’s side. She was surprised when one of the representatives—a tall, bronze-skinned beauty who had unusually beautiful blue and green swirled eyes—perked at the sight of her.
“More food!” the representative declared. “Come, Cagney. We need pastries.” The tall woman grabbed a much shorter, stricter-looking woman who wore her hair in a severe bun and followed Ariane with enthusiasm.
Ariane carefully placed her burden on the table one of the footmen had set up in the gazebo. The representative pounced on the tray and held a pastry in each hand as she leaned over the side of the gazebo and eyed the pond. “This looks deep. I wonder if I could bring my kelpie here to swim.”
“No,” her companion said firmly.
“You are right—it has lily pads and other decorative flowers. I should ask permission first,” the representative said as she snagged two more pastries from the tray.
“I do not think bringing your ornery—and possibly dangerous—pet into a garden filled with people is a safe idea.”
Ariane curtsied to the women and slipped from the gazebo—intending to hurry off and get another tray. Based on that representative’s healthy appetite, perhaps I should warn the kitchens we’ll need more…
“Oh—my ball!”
Ariane swiveled in time to see the golden ball Princess Sylvie had been holding bounce into the pond. The young princess looked aghast. As she had recently entered her teenage years, she had abandoned most of her toys, but Ariane knew from her time in the palace that Princess Sylvie was still fond of her ball.
“That’s too bad,” a pretty, golden-haired young woman said as she joined the younger princess on the shore of the pond. “But fret not. We can ask a gardener for a rake—or better yet, if I could just borrow a guard’s polearm…”
Ariane rushed forward at the offer. “I will retrieve it, Your Highness,” she said, guessing the foreign woman’s title.
“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” the foreign lady said—a slightly thick accent colored her words. “I briefly trained in polearms with the Verglas army before coming here. I should be able to handle the weight.”
“Please, allow me.”
Ariane turned around just as a giant frog hopped out of a hedge. Is that…?
The foreign lady frowned down at the frog. “There appear to be more talking animals in the world than I would have estimated.”
Princess Sylvie smiled. “Oh, he’s not a talking animal—that’s my brother, Prince Lucien.”
It’s close enough, Ariane thought traitorously.
“Prince Lucien,” the golden-haired woman repeated. Her open expression was replaced with a more serene and controlled look.
Prince Lucien attempted to bow, and instead nearly flopped over. “At your service, Queen Linnea of Verglas.”
She’s a queen? Darn it—I should have called her Your Majesty. Ariane started to edge backwards. But now for the kitchens.
“Fear not, darling sister, I shall fetch your ball!” Lucien continued.
“Thank you, Lucien,” Princess Sylvie clapped.
“Forgive my curiosity, Prince, but why are you in the form of a frog?” Queen Linnea asked.
“It is a long story,” the frog prince said. “But please allow me to ask—Princess Astra of Baris is not yet spoken for, yes?”
Ariane rolled her eyes and would have stepped away and completely disengaged from the scene, but she caught sight of Princess Sylvie leaning over the pond, straining to reach the ball.
“Please, Princess. Allow me.” Ariane hurriedly slipped out of her shoes and stepped into the surprisingly cold pond before the princess could fall in.