The Frog Prince (Timeless Fairy Tales #9)

Ariane rolled her shoulders back and tried to ignore the nervousness that gnawed at her. “Do you really believe you will be happy with all these new responsibilities—with everyone seeing your real worth?”

Lucien slowly nodded. “Yes. You were right. Living as a shadow of myself was not a proper way to live. I would never have been happy—I wasn’t ever happy. But coming to the Summit and meeting you...” He tilted his head and smiled wryly. “I think I understand why my father attempted to browbeat me into submission.”

Ariane laughed and had to blink back tears of joy. “I’m happy for you, Lucien. You deserve to be recognized for what you can do, and we need you. Desperately.”

Lucien sidled closer. “You included?”

Ariane swallowed. “Yes. Though you were still an arrogant frog in the way you announced my feelings after returning to a human instead of checking with me first.”

Lucien bowed. “My apologies, Mademoiselle. Then please, allow me another chance.” Lucien’s eyes shone with the intensity of his feelings as he again took up both of her hands. “Ariane. When I was nothing more than a frog—”

“A bossy frog,” Ariane muttered.

“I fell deeply and irrevocably in love with you. Your belief in me—your belief in humanity—and your devil-may-care attitude captured me. You are the most beautiful creature I have ever met, and you were far more patient with me than I deserved. Please marry me. I know it’s a future you never asked for—to one day be queen—but I love you, and I want you to stand at my side. I would be proud to have you there.” Lucien’s breath seemed to catch in his throat, for he fell silent.

Ariane really was crying now. She had hoped Lucien would persevere, would want her. But lingering doubts had still whispered in her ear. However, Lucien had just ruthlessly vanquished them with the style and charm only he was capable of.

Ariane laughed through her tears. “Yes! Of course, I will marry you!”

Lucien kissed her before she could say anything more. His kiss was not what Ariane had expected.

It was warm and gentle. Strong, certainly, but Ariane could most feel his love in the way he restrained himself in respect to her. It was rather like the caress of sunlight, tender but holding the promise of more…

Several long moments later, they ended the kiss, though Lucien again snaked his arms around her waist.

“That was quite worth all the research,” Lucien mused.

“Lucien!” Ariane gently smacked his chest in a rebuke.

He chuckled and kissed her temple. “I expect I can brave showing my face to my brother with you at my side to make our completely expected announcement, princess maid.”

Ariane laughed. “If I am a princess maid, you are a frog prince.”

“Whatever suits you, love.” He combed a hand through her long hair. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to see if your hair is as soft as it looks,” he murmured, sounding distracted.

“I’m afraid it didn’t occur to me to wonder about your hair until you were human again,” Ariane said.

“Yes. Imagine how much sooner I might have won you over if Angelique had the decency to turn me into a puppy!”

Ariane could only laugh again and let her smile widen. I am so happy! “Perhaps. Will we wait to see Prince Severin until he wakes up, or shall we go tell Elle first?”

“You can just call him Severin—he’d prefer it. And why don’t we wait until he wakes?” Lucien murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

“That may be hours.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “In the meantime, I think there are a few more matters to revisit before we go see my brother.”

“Oh—”

Lucien cut her off with another kiss before she could further inquire, then wrapped her up in a tight embrace as if he never wanted to release her.

Ariane closed her eyes and rested her hand against his chest, feeling the solid thump of his heart.

Lucien was right. She had never dreamed—or even wanted—to be queen. It was going to be an uphill battle, particularly given she had no illusions that Lucien’s parents and the courts would welcome a commoner to their ranks.

But Lucien would scheme, and she wouldn’t hesitate.

After all, she had faced down rogue mages, and Lucien had uncovered the greatest plot in centuries.

What were nobles compared to that?





Epilogue





“—And later this morning, you have a meeting scheduled with the weavers’ guild,” Henry intoned as he helped Lucien slip on his dark blue waistcoat.

“The weavers’ guild?” Lucien tugged his cuffs straight.

“Indeed. I believe you wished to speak to someone about textile imports and exports. Your secretary made the arrangements,” Henry said.

“What does Ariane have planned for the morning?”

“She has several classes with various scholars, dance instruction, and her harpsichord lessons.”

Lucien whistled. “She’s a better student than I ever was.”

“Agreed,” Henry pronounced.

Lucien snorted. “Thank you, Henry. That will be all. Though if you would have my dove-gray coat fixed, I would much appreciate it. Ariane spent all of last night staring at a hole in the seam. I would much prefer to have her looking at my face.”

Henry raised his eyebrows judgmentally. “I do not doubt it, Your Highness,” he said as he retreated from the room.

“You’re a rogue, Henry!” Lucien called after his servant.

“I disagree, Your Highness. I am a valet!”

Lucien chuckled as he fussed over the frilled throat of his undershirt, then nodded in satisfaction at his reflection. “I have a bit of time before breakfast; shall I go rouse Ariane?”

It likely wasn’t the most brilliant idea. Ariane had gotten herself a lady’s maid who had once been a fishwife. As such, she had arm muscles that would make her the envy of most men, and she was not opposed to using them to throw Lucien out of the room.

Feeling reflective, Lucien left his quarters and instead strolled towards the study in which he had his lessons back before he made his educated guess about the Chosen.

Months had passed since the Summit. It was now late summer, and so much had changed. Ariane had already made her debut into society; Lucien had been forever freed from his lessons, and their wedding was scheduled to take place that winter.

Ariane had done quite well, even in the snake pit of the courts. Severin and Elle had thrown all their popularity behind her, and given that Elle had become the darling of the courts (mostly because she hated them), many nobles had leashed their tongues and refrained from being particularly pig-headed to Ariane.

Lucien was proud of her—and he was proud to call her his intended. He rather wished his mother had agreed to an earlier wedding, but Ariane seemed relieved to have the time to prepare. Given what Ariane was doing to become his wife, he wanted to do everything in his power to make her happy. Thankfully, he was not alone in that crusade.