Ariane meticulously straightened Lucien’s pillow and glanced around the ballroom Prince Severin had transformed for the sake of the Summit. Though the room was still lit by beautiful chandeliers and the marble walls sparkled in the morning light let in by floor-to-ceiling windows, the ballroom was filled with tables and chairs that were meticulously arranged in a ring. The odd shape meant every representative had an equal view, which was quite forward-thinking. Though Ariane wished she didn’t have to sit directly with Lucien.

Ordinarily I would say my presence is entirely unnecessary—a rogue magic user isn’t going to bust into this highly guarded ballroom, after all. However, I can see Prince Lucien does legitimately need help given that he is a frog. No small wonder Henry opted to avoid this task.

Ariane glanced discreetly at either side. Once again Prince Lucien had been placed next to Prince Severin, though this time a Craftmage named Stil sat on Lucien’s other side.

“Ask me if it’s alive,” Craftmage Stil said to the young woman sitting next to him.

His companion, a rather serious young lady who was at work sewing a cloak, shook her head. “We’re not going to play the question game. We’re on the cusp of a monumental meeting—hush.”

“Gemma!” Queen Linnea beamed as Ariane had never seen and hurried up to the serious lady, throwing her arms around her shoulders. “We get to sit together! Isn’t that fantastic?”

“Just fabulous,” Graftmage Stil muttered.

Ariane glanced down at Prince Lucien—who was fussing with his cushion—and wished he would talk to the mage to break the awkward silence.

As if he could feel her eyes, Lucien stopped burrowing into his pillow and glared up at her. “What?”

Before Ariane could reply, Prince Severin stood, making his chair scrape. “I call to order the first meeting of the Summit,” he said. “As I said last night, my wife and I have organized this event with the intension of addressing the rampant evil that has spread across the land. I would like to begin with a report on each country. In my invitations, I asked you to prepare such a report ahead of time so we might all be aware of the troubles we face. Who would like to go first?”

“I can.” The man in the Erlauf military uniform stood and addressed the crowd, letting Ariane see the black eyepatch that covered his right eye. “I am Colonel Friedrich of the Dragon Army, husband of Queen Cinderella, and Prince of Erauf. Erauf lands have been overrun by goblins. It started two, perhaps three years ago. It’s an infestation that has grown steadily worse—and it is unusual because of the great number of goblins we’ve fought and their solid organizational methods.”

The debonair colonel clasped his hands behind his back and nodded to a soldier who stood near him. The soldier took a stack of papers and began passing them out. “We’ve outlined the places in which they’ve hit us and the spots where we have successfully routed them,” the colonel continued. “Since Cinderella was crowned queen, things have gotten a little more manageable—not because the goblins have stopped coming but because we now recruit among former Trieux citizens as well.”

There were some murmurs over this. Five years ago, Erlauf had invaded the much smaller country of Trieux after Trieux had made declarations of war. The battle was brief, and the losses had been quite low, but many countries of the continent had not looked favorably upon Erlauf for what was thought to be a radical response.

Ariane glanced down at Lucien to see what he thought.

The prince was peering at his reflection in his silver wine goblet, blinking one eye and then the other.

The pattern continued throughout the morning.

Lucien stretched out on his back when the King of Torrens reported a recent increase of trolls, giants, and ogres that had started not even a year ago. He loudly ate crackers when Baris told of an influx of harpies and a kraken attack. Worse yet, he fell asleep when Prince Callan of Ringsted and his bride to be—the Selkie Princess Dylan—explained they had defeated a sea witch who had created massive storm fronts that isolated Ringsted not even a year ago.

By the time they had gotten to Loire, Ariane was irritated enough with the apathetic prince that she considered poking him awake. I didn’t know so many countries were experiencing such turmoil. She looked from the various reports Lucien had been given by multiple representatives to the prince, who was still napping. How can he sleep at a time like this?

“What of Mulberg?” Princess Astra of Baris asked after Severin finished the Loire briefing. “Why did they not send a representative? Did you not invite them?”

“They were invited,” Princess Elle said. “But in her reply to the invitation, the Queen of Mulberg said they hadn’t experienced any difficulties whatsoever, so she did not see the necessity of the Summit.”

“I imagine their lack of trouble is due to the Veneno Conclave,” Emperor Yevgeniy said, his voice was perhaps a little bitter. “With the Conclave’s base and Academy in Mulberg, I cannot imagine rogue mages would risk venturing there.”

“Did you send an envoy to Zancara?” Lord Dooley—one of the Ringsted representatives—asked.

Severin shook his head. “Zancara’s borders are still closed. It’s anyone’s guess what is happening there.”

Ariane glanced down at Lucien again, who was so deep in sleep his back feet were twitching. She frowned and tugged on his pillow, rocking him out of his nap.

“What did you do that for?” Lucien complained.

“You are in a meeting of countries,” Ariane replied in a lowered tone. “Sleeping through it will not make a favorable impression.”

“So? You’re not my teacher. Ugh. Well, you’ve woken me now. Lift me up so I can drink some wine.”

“The servants will not refill your glass,” Ariane said. “I suspect your brother has ordered them to cut you off.”

“What? Why?”

Probably because you are a frog and you’ve drunk almost a full bottle of wine by yourself? Though, to be fair, he did spill much of the bottle when he flailed his cup around between his snack of crackers and his nap. Rather than reveal her thoughts, Ariane said, “Who can tell?”

Lucien grunted. “I’m going back to sleep. Don’t wake me again!”

Ariane glanced around the room—the representatives were now listening to the representatives from Farset. Hoping her whispered conversation with Lucien was escaping notice, she said, “You are the crown prince. You should remain invested.”

Lucien released a throaty-croak. “If I didn’t know any better, I would accuse you of consorting with Scholar Pierre. See here: Severin is running this. He’s awake for it. He will tell me everything I missed once this mess is over.”

“Your brother’s knowledge is not a proper excuse,” Ariane said.

Lucien, who had been snuggling down into his cushion again, froze. “What did you say?”

Ariane tilted her chin up at the frosty tone he had used. A soft spot, hmm? “Just because Prince Severin is a competent leader does not provide you with an excuse to be irresponsible.”

The frog prince scuttled around so he could face Ariane. “That is where you are wrong! Whatever I would conclude from this meeting, Severin will be five steps ahead of me.”

“Your brother’s intelligence has no direct tie to your abilities,” Ariane said.

Lucien was silent for several long moments.

Ariane couldn’t tell if he was angry or thoughtful as his frog features were rather difficult to read. He was silent for so long Ariane briefly returned her attention to the Farset representatives.

“You understand nothing,” Lucien finally said with a surprising amount of vehemence. “You’re just a servant, and you are overstepping your boundaries. Now be quiet.”

Ariane blinked in surprise as Lucien hopped in a circle and turned his back to her.

Prince Severin leaned in. “Is everything all right?” he asked in a rumbling whisper.

“Naturally,” Lucien snarled. “Everything is fine.”

Severin raised an eyebrow but glanced back at the Farset representatives and sat up straight in his seat once more.

Ariane released a tiny sigh and took a moment to straighten her dress. I don’t know what’s more disheartening…all this bad news from other countries, or the knowledge that Loire has a spoiled and selfish crown prince.

* * *

Lucien thought he would give Ariane the tongue lashing she deserved when she returned him to his room that evening. However, before he could launch into his stern lecture, she opened the door and tossed him inside. As if he were a dirty shirt!

Lucien yelped as he was thrown head over heels and landed on a folded blanket with a splat. The cushion he spent the day on hit him a moment later and bounced off. “You!” he thundered, but Ariane had already shut the door and waltzed off during Lucien’s brief time as a flying frog.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” Henry said. “I am glad to see you are looking so spritely.”

“That, that, that commoner!” Lucien snarled as he righted himself.

Henry picked Lucien up and carried him to a small end table. “What of her?”

“This morning she dared to tell me how I ought to conduct myself during a meeting—she said it wasn’t good enough to rely on Severin!” Lucien climbed into the bowl of tepid water Henry set down next to him.

As little as he liked it, he was far more comfortable when his skin was wet. When dry, it caused him mild discomfort, but things could be worse. Thank goodness I don’t have to subside on insects. Lucien splashed around in the water before he remembered himself. “The cheek of that girl! She ought to be thrown from the chateau.”

“I believe Princess Elle has said far worse of you,” Henry said.

“Maybe, but at least she is my sister-in-law. Ariane is a servant,” Lucien said.

“I am impressed you expended the energy it took to remember her name rather than referring to her merely through pronouns,” Henry said.

“I know all the servants by name.” Lucien croaked in irritation when he hefted himself out of his water bowl and nearly spilt the thing.

Henry blinked slowly at Lucien.

“I do!” Lucien puffed up. “For security purposes, of course. As a prince I shouldn’t have to know them, but in these troubled times, it’s important to know who surrounds you—even if they are of a lower class.”

Henry furrowed his brow. “Then you knew Mademoiselle Ariane’s name before she aided us when you were attacked?”

“Of course. She was hired on two years ago as a house maid. And now she dares to tell me how I ought to act!”

“And how did the meeting go?” Henry asked, ignoring Lucien’s anger as he fluffed Lucien’s day cushion.

Lucien crawled across the table, leaving a wet trail behind him. “It’s worse than I thought,” he admitted. “I believed I had an accurate measure on things with my Rangers acting as my eyes and ears, but there has been more trouble than I estimated.”

Henry nodded. “I am glad you have realized that, Your Highness.”

Lucien suspiciously eyed his valet. “Are you going to join Father, my teachers, and now the maids in brow-beating me to act more ‘princely’?”

“No,” Henry said.

“Why not?”

“Because for the moment I am reassured enough that—in spite of your complaints about nosey maids—you must have been listening to the meeting after all, or you wouldn’t have this particular opinion.”

Lucien was silent as he stared at his valet, who was fixing the blanket Lucien had landed on. This is why I didn’t want a military-trained valet. He is far too observant and cunning for my taste.

* * *

On the second day of meetings, Prince Lucien—and Ariane—were displaced to a small table just behind Severin’s seat.

Ariane suspected the move was meant to somewhat hide Lucien’s clear disinterest with the proceedings, but she didn’t trust that the new spot would really succeed in that venture as Severin sat at the head of the oval-ish shape in which the tables were arranged.

Perhaps Prince Severin is hopeful no one will be able to see Lucien. Ariane glanced down at the prince, who was stretched out across his cushion and had a webbed foot dangling into a teacup of water.

He is such a disgrace. Ariane held in a sigh and returned her attention to the speakers.

“Sorcerer Rothbart’s shadow has plagued my people for years,” Emperor Yevgeniy of Kozlovka said. “We need help—of the magical sort—to dislodge him if we are to provide any sort of support.”

Colonel Friedrich of Erlauf studied the emperor with his good eye. “You’ve informed the Conclave?”

“Yes,” the emperor said. “No help has come.”

Lady Enchantress Angelique delicately cleared her throat. “I will admit to the Conclave’s fault in this area,” she said. “But we were only recently informed of your situation.”

It is quite interesting to see the different dynamics between all the countries. Ariane neatly folded her hands in her lap. They must be careful not to offend anyone—powerful magic users like the lady enchantress included.

“I am afraid I must disagree with you, Lady Enchantress. I have been sending messages to the Conclave for years,” Emperor Yevgeniy said.

Ariane’s eyes flickered from the emperor to Angelique. Surprise registered on the lovely enchantress’s face. She looked to the other magic users who were in attendance as well, and they all also seemed surprised with this news.

“I understand your frustration,” Princess Astra of Baris said with narrowed eyes. “But I find it disdainful that one rogue sorcerer can occupy your entire country.”

“Baris is only dealing with harpies, are they not?” the emperor asked.

“Yes, but that is likely because fifty years ago we managed to fight off a wave of dark magic,” the princess said. “And we had to do that on our own. Neither the Conclave nor any of the countries here were willing to help at the time. Back then we all warned you that it did not bode well for the future, but our warnings were ignored. And now you say you cannot handle one measly sorcerer?”

“Baris has proven its exceptional strength and its power of foresight. But not every country can do what Baris did,” Prince Severin—ever the intermediary—said.

Ariane glanced down at Lucien for contrast. The frog prince was making swirlie patterns in his teacup with his toes.

“Arcainia did.” Princess Astra turned her piercing gaze to the Arcainian representatives. “Twice. Once with the ogre, and once with a witch.”

“Indeed,” Puss—Crown Princess Gabrielle’s talking black and white cat, who still occasionally made Ariane’s mind struggle—said. “But Arcainia has proven to have an exceptionally smart royal family.”

Ariane glanced at the Kozlovkan Emperor, wondering if he would take offense to the statement, but Crown Prince Steffen diffused the situation before it could grow any tenser.

“May I assume that I am included in my family as being exceptionally smart?” the prince asked.

The cat twitched his nose. “On average, no. However, you did make one brilliant decision in your life that negates that.”

“Marrying Gabrielle?” Crown Prince Steffen guessed.

“Naturally,” Puss said.

This raised a few chuckles as Crown Prince Steffen rolled his eyes. He was placated when his wife took his hand and rested it on the table. He brought it to his lips and kissed it.

Ariane relaxed slightly and rearranged her hands to fight the impulse to braid her hair that curled around her shoulders. She studied the glossy surface of the table, her eyes traveling across the decorative flourishes carved into the edge.

“Please, continue, Emperor Yevgeniy,” Prince Severin said.

As she listened to the conversation renew, Ariane mindlessly used the skirts of her dress to brush some dust out of a few flourishes.

She paused when she realized Lucien had twisted so he could stare at her. “Do you need something, Your Highness?”

“What are you doing?”

Ariane quickly smoothed her skirts and clasped her hands together. “Nothing, Your Highness.”

“You were jiggling the table.”

Ariane raised her eyes to the ceiling. He has no tact—unless he decides he wishes to be charming. “I was cleaning.”

“Why were you cleaning?”

The slight sneer in his words made Ariane want to snarl back at him, but she kept her tone pleasant. “Perhaps because I am a maid?” she suggested.

Lucien croaked. “If Kozlovka had maids like you, Emperor Yevgeniy would have been hen-pecked into moving on Sorcerer Rothbart, regardless of the possible folly.”

“Folly?” Ariane asked.

“It would be truly foolish to face a sorcerer who has seemingly mastered various dark arts without help from other mages.” He stared at Ariane for several more moments—awaiting a reply—but Ariane could only blink in surprise. Dimly, she heard Prince Severin rumble in the background.

“Kozlovka does indeed need help,” he said. “I acknowledge Baris’s strength and bravery, but the entire central government of Sole is shut down due to a curse cast by one rogue magic user. We must proceed with caution.”

When it became apparent she wasn’t going to reply to his jab, Lucien returned to playing with his water. Ariane, however, mused over his response.

He’s listening. Even if Lucien appeared to be disinterested, he was clearly still listening, or he wouldn’t have known about Rothbart. Moreover, his comment proved to Ariane that despite his idiotic words, Prince Lucien was just as smart as his brother. For Lucien had called out the dangers of attacking Rothbart before Prince Severin had a chance to mention it. So he doesn’t completely rely on his brother—or at least he wouldn’t have to. Is his arrogant, alcoholic prince persona just an act? The idea seemed overly optimistic to Ariane, but in her heart of hearts she wondered…

* * *

Ariane was still pondering the matter when the evening came and the representatives were all released to freshen up for dinner. Lucien, unlike the rest of the guests, had no need to change, so instead he ordered Ariane to take him to Severin’s immense gardens.

He spent the time hopping around, grumbling under his breath, but Ariane was amused to see he made a point of inspecting several of the beds.

“Completely taken with his stupid flowers,” the prince grumbled as he stared at a rather impressive lilac bush that was budding early. “I thought Elle would keep him from turning into a farmer, but instead she encourages it! He needs children. They need children. It will give them someone else to lecture.”

Ariane cleared her throat to cover the chuckle that almost escaped, then made a show of peering around the garden.

They were in a large, open courtyard that boasted cobblestone pathways and some impressive flower bushes. Guards were posted at the four entry points to the courtyard, but the area was so big, Ariane wasn’t sure she could have thrown a rock and hit one of them.

Lucien moved from the lilac bush up to a rose bush that was just starting to grow buds. “I swear, one of his gardeners must have magic. Everything grows out of season here.” He dolefully eyed the large shovel and spade placed next to the rose bush as if they were magical tools.

Whether he’s smart or stupid, the rumors that he dotes on Severin are true—though Severin is still a saint to suffer through his particular brand of love.

“I need wine,” Lucien announced.

“Her Highness ordered you to be cut off after an entire bottle of wine mysteriously went missing at lunch time,” Ariane reminded him.

“She can’t tell me what to do,” Lucien declared. “I’ll drink what I want.”

“I disagree,” Ariane said. “I believe as long as you are a guest—and a frog—you truly are at her mercy.”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Mademoiselle Cleanliness? No, I did not!” Prince Lucien hopped a few feet away. “So you can—”

The prince was unable to finish his sentence as a black snake with a red belly struck. It lunged from the leafy shade of the rose bush and had its mouth closed around Lucien before Ariane could scream.

“No!” she shouted. She heard clattering—most likely the guards—and her heart pounded in her throat as the snake struggled to swallow the crown prince.

I have to do something! Ariane snatched up the gardening shovel, smashing it into the snake’s body. It hissed and jerked, but it couldn’t bite her as Lucien’s fat frog body still filled its mouth.

If I hit it on the head, I might kill Lucien, too! Ariane raised the shovel above her head and struck the snake in the body again.

She drew blood, and the snake thrashed, and Ariane could hear Lucien’s muffled voice. “You are going to spit me out, you despicable creature!” Moments after, his head popped out of the snake’s mouth, though half his body was still in its jaws. “I will not be eaten! Particularly not without a good wine to accompany me!”

Lucien’s complaint assured Ariane he wasn’t dying, so she tried to hit the snake again—though this time she missed.

The snake, with Lucien bulging from its mouth and Ariane still trying to hit it, began to slither towards the thick lilac bushes.

“Step back!” a soldier shouted.

Ariane darted backwards, her palms turning clammy.

One of the soldiers threw a dagger that pierced the snake’s body and nailed it to the ground, stopping its departure.

“You. Will. Not. Eat. Me!” Lucien stubbornly repeated. He had hefted most of his body out of the snake’s mouth, but the creature bit down on his legs and held him dangling.

“Prince!” Ariane shouted, this time gripping her shovel like a pike.

The soldiers skid between Ariane and the snake with their swords drawn. In the blink of an eye, they beheaded the beast and pulled Lucien away from the creature.

“Here, take him.” One soldier held Lucien out to Ariane, who hesitated for a moment before scooping him up in her arms.

Two of the soldiers moved to stand by Ariane and Lucien—their swords still out as they eyed the beautiful gardens with new suspicion.

The remaining two poked at the snake’s body with their swords.

“I’ve never seen a snake with this color pattern,” said a tall soldier with constantly narrowed eyes. He flipped the snake over, pointing out the strange, black-gray pattern Ariane hadn’t initially seen as it blended in so well with the snake’s black back.

“Send word to Prince Severin,” ordered one of the soldiers who hovered over Ariane and Lucien.

“You think this was another assassination attempt?” Lucien asked.

“I’m afraid so, Your Highness.”

Ariane glanced down at the transformed prince, wondering how he would take the news. He was quiet, though he blinked and tucked his front legs over Ariane’s, making her shiver a little at the slimy feeling of his skin.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness,” said the soldier who wanted to call for Prince Severin. “But I believe it would be for the best if you returned indoors.”

“Of course.” Lucien’s voice was airy and care-free, though after her experience with him at that morning’s meeting, Ariane was willing to bet he was deep in thought.

“This way, Mademoiselle,” a soldier murmured to Ariane, leading the way back to the Chateau.

Araine followed him, though she shifted Lucien’s impressive weight from one arm to the other.

“That’s twice, now, you’ve saved me,” Lucien said, surprising Ariane.

“I didn’t do much this time, Your Highness,” Ariane said.

“You hit that snake with a shovel.”

“Perhaps, but it was the soldiers who killed it.”

“But you still tried to stop it,” Lucien said.

Why is he being so insistent? “…Yes.”

Lucien rolled back slightly so he could peer up at her with his froggy eyes. “Why? Why risk yourself, again?”

Ariane took a moment to think before she responded. “Because I would never let someone die before me without reaching out to help.”

Lucien was quiet for the rest of the walk to Chanceux.

* * *

Lucien was deeply grateful when Ariane carried him off to a private salon instead of traipsing him before Severin and Elle.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his brother and sister-in-law; he just didn’t want to see them at this moment, as it would mean he’d have to acknowledge that their paranoia was perhaps not so far-fetched.

Unfortunately for Lucien, when Ariane stepped out of the salon to speak to the guards, she returned to find him attempting to pry a cork from a bottle of wine and promptly scooped him up on a cushion and took him from the room.

“Release me, maid!” Lucien ordered as Ariane marched down the hallway.

“No,” Ariane said stormily.

Lucien tried to peer up at her without tipping over. “I don’t understand why you’re upset. I was nearly eaten alive—wine is the least of what I deserve.”

“Indeed,” Ariane said. “As the day has been so trying, you should retire and recuperate.”

“I haven’t even had dinner yet!” Lucien cringed at the shrill tone of his own voice. I’ve been a frog for three days, and I’ve gone from a charming prince to a spoilt child whining at the maid. I’m not sure my image will ever recover.

“I am sure Henry can be convinced to take you to dinner, or to have a tray brought up for you,” Ariane said.

Lucien grumbled and settled into his cushion, trying to meld with it as much as possible. (Though he would rather die than admit it, riding around on the cushion was rather terrifying—much like perching on the top of a carriage with horses pulling it at a gallop.)

Ariane reached Lucien’s quarters shortly, opened the door, and again tossed Lucien and his cushion inside so he flipped head over webbed feet.

This time, he landed on a bearskin rug set out before the fire and skid a little before finally stopping.

“The guards will inform Prince Severin and Princess Elle of tonight’s incident,” she said as Lucien righted himself. “Good evening, Your Highness.” Ariane ducked out of the doorway.

“Rude servant!” he shouted after her, but she was, of course, already gone.

“I see you have returned before dinner, Your Highness.” Henry stepped out of the shadows, already armed with a bowl and a towel. “I hope you did nothing untoward?” He glanced at the closed door and raised his eyebrows.

“I was nearly eaten by a snake in the gardens,” Lucien snapped.

Henry’s expression—which was nearly invisible to begin with—changed from chiding to mild worry as the position of his forehead wrinkles altered slightly. “Do you require any medical attention? The barber-surgeon, perhaps?”

“No, I’m fine.” Lucien sighed as Henry picked him up and set him on the small table for his regular bowl-bath. “I was luckily too fat for the snake to swallow easily.” He eased his way into the bowl and splashed around for a quiet moment or two.

“Are you certain you do not wish for a second opinion? We could seek out Lady Enchantress Angelique.”

“Yes, I’m certain. Why?”

“You are unusually silent.”

Lucien tried to snort, but he didn’t really have the nostrils for it, so it got caught in his throat and made his chest puff up. “Yes. Tell me, Henry, is it normal for people to be willing to risk themselves for others? And I am not referring to people they love, but rather people they…dislike.”

Henry meticulously set out a towel for Lucien to crawl on to. “You are referring to Mademoiselle Ariane?”

“She took a shovel to the snake—which was probably magic, as the soldiers didn’t recognize its coloring.”

Henry held the bowl steady so Lucien could heave himself over the side without tipping the whole thing. “Mademoiselle Ariane is quite brave. I imagine you are correct in thinking not everyone would have helped you, but I believe more people would than you believe.”

Lucien stared at his giant canopy bed unseeingly. “Not many of the nobles would,” he said grimly. He knew this from experience. The very people he had wined and dined and done every possible thing to charm had wanted to put Severin down like an animal when he was first cursed. The memory still made Lucien want to grind his teeth—even if he didn’t have many at the moment.

He fidgeted and dusted the thought from his mind. “Soldiers and guards would, but I always assumed that was due to their temperaments and Severin’s training.”

“The lower class is also capable of great goodness and nobility of temperament as well, Your Highness,” Henry said. For once his voice did not sound dry like sand or hard like rock, but softer—like water. “Just as you are.”

Lucien glanced up at the valet, who ignored the look and instead picked up the bowl of used water and strode across the room.

It’s something to mull over, I suppose. Along with the rest of the wretched news the Summit has brought.