Just A Kiss: (The Frog Prince) (Tangled Tales Series Book 2) (8 page)

Chapter 10

Freya waited as long as she could for Marni, but when she didn’t show up in the garden an hour later, it was obvious she wasn’t coming. Her heart dropped in her chest because she realized she wasn’t going to be able to bring her mother to the swamp after all. Carine was watching over Freya’s mother. Freya figured she would make her handmaiden swear to secrecy to help her and Marni move her mother to a horse-drawn cart awaiting in the courtyard, but now it was too late.

She watched in sorrow as the guards closed up the castle’s gate for the night. It would be impossible to sneak her mother out of the castle now, especially by herself. Carine was too weak to be of much help and would probably not want to get involved because she’d be afraid of being punished if she were caught.

Now she’d just have to go to the swamp alone and try to remember the spells and potions her mother had taught her when she was growing up. Hopefully she could think of something to do to help her dying mother.

“Come on, Gar, it’s time to go.” She cradled her Familiar in the crook of her arm and made her way quickly through the dark to the postern gate. She knew where the secret key was hidden in the bricks and vines because she was the one to hide it there.

If only she could transport from inside the castle’s walls, this would be so much easier. By going outside the confines of her sanctuary, she was putting herself at risk to be discovered.

She didn’t care. She had to find a way to help her dying mother, and she needed to get back into bed before her new husband discovered she was gone. She stepped outside the postern gate, closed and locked it and hid the key back in the stones of the old wall.

Then she held Gar up to her mouth, thinking how silly she’d feel kissing a frog now that she’d kissed a real man. She put her lips to the frog’s skin and it felt cold and bumpy and wet. She longed to kiss Arnon once again, and if she hurried she might be able to couple with him one more time before morning.

* * *

Freya spent several hours collecting herbs and swamp water and concocting potion after potion, and saying spell after spell. She felt frustrated because she couldn’t tell if the potions were working and neither did she know if they would really cure her mother.

It didn’t really matter that Marni hadn’t showed up. If Freya couldn’t get her mother away from the castle, even the strongest of magic wouldn’t be able to help her since the castle was cloaked with a spell that let no magic within its walls.

“Oh, Gar, I don’t know what to do.” She threw down a handful of weeds and sat on a patch of moss near the banks of the swamp, right next to some brush. “Mayhap we’d better get back to the castle before Arnon awakes and starts asking questions.”

He’s here,
she heard Gar’s words in her head. But once again, since it was magic, this only worked when they were away from the castle. She collected up her things and put them into her travel bag wondering what her frog meant.

“Who’s here?” she asked aloud, scanning the grounds but not seeing anyone.

The Frog Prince.

She laughed. “Who?” Then she remembered she’d called Arnon by that name when the frogs were following him around the great hall. She heard the sound of hoofbeats and looked through the trees to see her husband riding quickly to the other side of the swamp. There was a big black wolf following at his side. It was the same wolf she’d seen with him the first day he’d come to the swamp. The wolf that she now knew was his brother.

He wore only a tunic and braies, as well as a pair of boots. He slid off his horse, kicked off his boots, and then jumped into the swamp fully clothed. The wolf lay down on the shore and waited.

“Arnon?” she said softly, wondering if he had followed her there and what he was doing. She looked across the swamp in the moonlight and saw him floating on his back in the mucky water with his eyes closed. If he’d followed her, he certainly didn’t seem as if he even knew she was there.

She stayed silent and hunkered down behind a bush and just watched. She couldn’t let him know she was there or he’d start asking questions she didn’t want to answer.

“What is he doing?” she asked Gar, and got a very strange answer.

He’s one of us. The swamp is calling him.

She was about to kiss her frog and transport back to the castle, when all of a sudden all the frogs in the swamp started to croak and sing. The melodic tune filled the air, louder than she’d ever heard before. She watched in utter amazement as one after another, the frogs jumped from the shore into the swamp and started to swim toward Arnon. The water around him was a mass of floating green as the frogs tried to hop atop him next. Gar seemed to have the urge to go to him too, and it was all she could do to keep her Familiar there with her.

“Stop it,” she heard him cry out, and he swatted at the frogs and swam to shore. The wolf jumped up to greet him. “Get away from me,” he told the frogs, and quickly made his way back to his horse. He went to don his boots and had to shake several frogs out from inside them before he put them back on his feet. She giggled softly, not sure what was going on, but she found it amusing.

“Time to go, Gar,” she said, taking one last look at her husband kicking at the frogs. He hopped up onto his horse like he had springs in his legs, and headed away through the forest with the wolf running behind him.

She kissed Gar and felt the wind against her face and her body vibrate as she was transported back to the castle. She ran to the postern gate, holding onto her travel bag, sticking Gar inside. She used the key to get into the garden and then locked the door behind her and hid the key again. She made her way up through the garden and out into the bailey, dodging several nighttime guards along the way, having to hide and wait until her path was clear.

“Open the gate and let me in,” she heard Arnon calling from the portcullis. He must have rode like the wind to get back so quickly. “Open the gate, I say. This is Lord Arnon speaking. I need to get inside.”

“My lord, we didn’t know you were out there,” she heard a guard say. “Where were you and why are you so wet? Did you take a spill in the lake?”

“Never mind. Now have a bath set up in my chamber immediately.”

“It’ll take a while to heat the water, my lord. Especially this time of night since the fires are all out in the kitchen.”

“I don’t need hot water. The colder the better. Now have it done at once.”

He dismounted his steed and threw the reins to a stable boy. He moved swiftly through the courtyard, heading toward the keep. She entered ahead of him and ran up the stairs, managing to make it into their room just in front of him. She didn’t have time to undress or to remove her travel bag with Gar in it from her shoulder. So instead she jumped into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She closed her eyes just as the door to the room slammed open.

“Put it down there and fill it up fast.” Arnon talked to the servants.

She pretended to be asleep, but opened her eyes slightly to peek out. She saw the servants rolling in a wooden tub and filling it with buckets of water.

“More. I need more water,” Arnon complained. “Fill it all the way up to the top and be quick about it.”

“Aye my lord,” answered the servants, doing as he instructed. Arnon paced back and forth anxiously, and tension filled the air.

“That’s good,” he said after a while, waving his hand through the air. “Now leave. All of you.”

“My lord – the water isn’t even hot,” said one of the male servants.

“I like it cold. Now go.”

“Aye, my lord.”

The door clicked closed and Freya peeked over once again to see him pulling off his wet clothes and throwing them onto the floor in aggravation. Then he slipped into the cold water and sank down up to his chin, never even gasping for breath from the shock of the water against his skin.

How was it that it didn’t bother him? She really wanted to know but still pretended to be asleep.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re fully clothed under the covers.” He spoke to her with his eyes closed and his head back, resting against the edge of the tub. Then he sank down totally, and the water covered his head.

She didn’t say anything. He was beneath the water for a long time and she was about to jump out from under the covers to see if he’d drowned when his head finally broke the surface. She closed her eyes once again.

“Freya, we need to talk.”

She didn’t answer.

“I know you were at the swamp, so you might as well admit it.”

She pushed back the covers and sat up, hearing Gar croaking from inside the bag. “How did you know?” She reached in and grabbed Gar and scooted to the edge of the bed.

“The damned frogs told me, not to mention the wolf.”

“What?” She stood up and walked over to him slowly. “You . . . can talk to frogs? And wolves?”

“Nay. I can just understand the frogs for some reason that is beyond my comprehension. As for the wolf – I can only understand one wolf but that is a long story.” His eyes were still closed. Gar croaked again and one eye opened.

“You know he wants to come in the water, so just let him.”

“You – you want me to put the frog in the bath water with you?”

“Why the hell not? I’ve already bathed with dozens of frogs tonight, only this water is a little cleaner.”

“And very cold I’m guessing.”

“I kind of like it that way.”

“How can you understand Gar and the other frogs?” She moved closer and the frog jumped out of her hands and landed with a splash in the water, disappearing below the surface. “Are you a – a warlock?”

He sat up straighter and opened his eyes. He looked like he didn’t want to answer.

“You said you’d answer any question I had about you after we consummated the marriage.”

“I did, and I’ll keep my word.” He shook his head. “I am not a warlock, but you are a witch.”

“What?” She was so surprised that he knew the truth that she dropped the bag. One of the glass jars broke and swamp water spilled out, and clusters of weeds and herbs she’d collected fell out of the pack as well.

He looked down to the items that fell from her bag, nodded his head, and then leaned back on the edge of the tub again. “Like I said. You’re a witch.”

“Your brother is a warlock, isn’t he?” she asked, walking forward slowly.

“Which one? I have four brothers. Do you mean Stefan, Hugh, MacKay or Kin?”

“There’s five of you? I had no idea.” She slowly walked closer to the tub.

“I’ve two sisters as well. Rapunzel and Cinderella.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I was talking about your twin.”

“Ah, Wolf.”

“I thought his name was Hugh, but now I know why everyone calls him Wolf.”

“Really.” He sat back up and looked at her curiously. “And why would that be?”

“Because he shapeshifts into a wolf at night. He was there tonight at the swamp, wasn’t he?”

His eyes interlocked with hers and she read sadness as well as a subtle pain within them. Then he nodded his head and got out of the water, splashing it all over the floor. He walked over and dried himself with a towel. Gar jumped out too and followed him around the room.

“We need to talk,” he said, picking up his clothes and donning them. He then leaned over and ringed the water out of his long hair. Come sit by the fire with me, Wife.”

She did as he asked, sitting down on the floor as he stoked the fire. He sat down next to her, and Gar jumped onto his lap, not hers.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

“I’ll start since you’re still keeping secrets. I am not a witch of any kind, nor are any of my siblings, but my father is a warlock.”

“Do you mean the man that was with you the first night we met at the swamp?”

“That’s right.” He broke a twig into small pieces for kindling and threw it into the fire. “His name is Lucio de Bar. My mother is dead.”

“I’m sorry. My father is dead too.”

He looked at her as if she were addled. “Your father is alive, sweetheart, we just spent a good part of the evening with him.”

She decided to open up to him and it felt good to have someone to talk to. “The baron is my step father, not my father, but he doesn’t know it.”

“Oh, I see you have even more secrets than I thought. So is that dying woman really your mother?”

“Yes. Almeta is my mother, but my real father was a knight who died in battle. You see, the baron has been through many wives trying to have an heir and has never been able to do it.”

“I’m guessing he’s the barren one, and your mother didn’t want to lose the castle and lands if he left her, so she just pretended her baby was his.”

“She did. You’re right. But he can never know.”

“Why not? Afraid of being disowned and losing everything?”

“If he finds out, you’ll lose everything as well, if I must remind you.”

“Good point.” He threw the rest of the kindling into the fire and brushed his hands together. The frog hopped off his lap and disappeared somewhere in the room. “Then we won’t tell him about it, or that you and your mother are witches either, will we?”