The following evening—on day nine of the Summit—Ariane again walked Lucien back to his room after the dinner meal.

“How much longer do you think the Summit will last?” Ariane asked as she marched into the family wing.

“Another week at least. I suspect we’ll adjourn, but many of the representatives will remain behind for a bit longer.” Lucien was flipped on his back and held his bulging stomach with his webbed feet. He had eaten too much again—which was probably why he replied to Ariane’s probing questions without thinking.

“Who do you think will stay?” Ariane asked.

“Colonel Friedrich and the bluestockings from Arcainia,” Lucien guessed. “Queen Linnea will if she can swing it, and Princess Astra will if she’s feeling nosey enough.”

“Not the Ringsted Representatives?”

“No. Prince Callan and that Selkie Princess—Dylan—are getting married in several weeks.”

Recalling the bronze-skinned beauty and the large cake she had finished off on her own, Ariane smiled. “I like Princess Dylan. Her love of food makes her appreciate those who make it.”

“Maybe, but if she has any brats with appetites like hers, the food budget for the royal family will triple,” Lucien predicted as they reached his rooms.

Ariane momentarily balanced his cushion on one hand and fumbled to open the door.

“Henry,” Lucien wailed. “I’ve eaten too much—prepare the tonic for over indulgence.”

Ariane peered into the room—which was surprisingly dark. Only a small fire glowed in the fireplace—Henry had not lighted any lanterns or candles. “Monsieur Henry?” She stepped into the room, searching for the valet. (She felt no small amount of vindication at viewing the clean and tidy room—Lucien could not mess it up as he did as a man.) “Are you here?” The scent of cedar tickled her nose, but Henry was nowhere to be seen.

Lucien snorted and patted his rotund belly. “He might have wandered off to practice swordsmanship with the guards—he does that when he’s bored sometimes.”

When Ariane navigated her way around an armchair, the door abruptly shut behind them. She whirled around, her lungs freezing in her chest when she saw the mage.

It was one of the two rogue magic users who had attacked Lucien previously—the male who wore silk robes and a white mask. She shouted before he could move. “Help! Assassins in Prince Lucien’s room!” As she screamed, she tried to remember, when did I last see a guard or soldier? How far away are they?

She sucked in another breath of air to scream again, but the rogue mage made a clenching motion with his hand, and a black shadow clasped Ariane’s throat and squeezed. She could still breathe—barely—but her shouts were cut off.

“You again!” Lucien leaped to attention on his pillow. His body was stiff with fury, but the effect was rather unimpressive given his small—and green—stature.

“Good evening, Prince Lucien.” This voice was female.

Ariane staggered, putting her back to the fireplace so she and Lucien could face the female magic user.

She was barely visible thanks to her black clothes, but the black bandage that covered her eyes was a stark mark against the white of her skin. “Tonight, you die.”

“Awfully melodramatic, aren’t they?” Lucien grumbled. “Henry!” he shouted. “Where the blazes are you?”

The female magic user opened her mouth, and again a buzzing sound emitted from her throat. Wasps swarmed the room in a thick cloud—entering from the open window.

Ariane’s mouth turned dry even as she still struggled to breathe fully. “Hide,” she whispered. Using all the strength she could muster, she threw Lucien and his pillow across the room. He yelped as he crashed into the bed and disappeared under the covers that spilled over the side of the mattress.

The wasps tried to follow him, but they couldn’t wriggle their way under the covers like Lucien had. Instead, they covered the bed in a thick blanket and crawled across its surface, searching for a way in.

The female mage—who was still controlling her bugs with a buzz—snarled in irritation and motioned at her companion.

The masked mage casually blocked the door off with a wall of shadows, then ambled to the bed. He reached for the bedcovers—to hold them up for the wasps most likely.

Ariane coughed and felt her lungs crumple in her chest. I need more air! She stumbled and crashed into an end table. Fumbling, her fingers closed across a crystal chalice. Blessings be said for Lucien’s alcoholic demands. Her sight half fuzzy from the increasingly smaller amount of air she managed to choke past the shadows that gripped her throat, Ariane chucked a glass and the chalice at the mage. The first missed, but the second hit him on the head.

He stumbled, and Ariane felt the grip of the shadowy fingers evaporate. “Help!” She shouted as she picked up whatever she could grab—books, a log, a chess board—and chucked it at the mages. “Someone—help!” She ran across the room—still throwing whatever she could—and pounded against the door.

The black shadows that covered it were tarry and sticky. She heaved on the door with all her strength, but it would not move. The muscles of her arms burned as she pulled and her face heated with exertion. “Help!” she shouted again.

After a moment, the door gave, opening a crack that was about as thick as a blade of grass. “We’re being attacked!” Ariane tried to yell through the crack.

Lucien yelped, and Ariane whirled around—her heart beating twice as fast as normal. “Lucien!”

The frog prince hopped out from under the bed, covered with wasps. It took Ariane a moment to realize the wasps were trying to sting him, but their stingers could not dig into his oozing, mottled frog skin.

“I say, get off!” Lucien said, sounding cross as he tried to shake the wasps off.

Behind him, the male mage raised a sword made of shadows.

“Look out!” Ariane shouted. She threw a vase at the mage, but he dodged it as he lunged forward and stabbed his sword at Lucien’s side.

Ariane’s ears rang, and her heart shuddered as the sword hit the prince.

However, instead of slicing through him, the sword appeared to hit Lucien rather like a stick smacking into a ball, and Lucien was sent sprawling across the floor.

The mage glided after him and attempted to spear Lucien on the point of his sword.

Once again, Lucien was sent flipping head over feet, a green ball of indestructible amphibian as he ricocheted off a nightstand with a rather painful sounding crunch.

Her heart stabilizing, Ariane went back to pulling on the door, her muscles buckling as she yanked.

Angered, the masked mage kicked Lucien—who bounced off furniture like Princess Sylvie’s golden ball.

“Would you stop that?” Lucien demanded when he finally rolled to a stop.

“What sorcery is this?” the rogue mage hissed, his voice muffled by his white mask.

The female directed her wasps to Lucien, covering him in a thick blanket. It did no good—the wasps were unable to succeed and instead were crushed when Lucien rolled around on his back, flattening them. She shut her mouth with an angry snap, cutting off the buzzing noise. “This reeks of Angelique’s self-righteous magic.”

“If that is so, how do we kill him?” the male asked.

“We could kidnap him,” the bug mage said.

The male mage sighed behind his mask. “That’s not good enough. Kidnapping won’t have the same effect on Severin as finding the prince’s dead body.”

What are they talking about? Ariane’s feet nearly skid out beneath her as she put all her strength into yanking on the door.

The bug mage scooped Lucien up and tried to dig her nails into Lucien’s body. Ariane paused from pulling on the door—which hadn’t budged any more than she managed to yank it previously—to watch in a moment of fear. But all the bug mage managed to do was make Lucien’s eyes bulge with the pressure.

“I said, stop that!” Lucien bit the woman’s finger.

She yelped in surprise, pulled her hand free from the prince’s mouth, and shook him.

The male mage made a noise of disgust and folded his arms across his chest.

“He has teeth!” the bug mage snarled.

“Yes, veritable fangs,” her companion said dryly. “But we still have not solved our assignment—how do we kill him?”

The woman held Lucien by one leg and crossed the room—which was now in shambles as Ariane had thrown a lot of books and dinnerware. When she reached the window, the rogue mage threw Lucien with a grunt, then leaned out of the window to watch his decent.

“Lucien!” Ariane shouted. He can take a lot, but is Angelique’s spell strong enough to stand a multi-story drop?

There was a splat, and Ariane’s heart stopped.

“You hag! I am a frog, not a bird!” Lucien shouted.

Ariane’s legs almost gave out in relief at his arrogant complaint. “Lucien—hide yourself and get help!” she shouted, hoping he could hear her.

“That was idiotic,” the male mage said. “I could have suffocated him.”

“And you didn’t say so sooner because…?”

“You didn’t give me the time to think over our options.”

The bug mage sniffed. “Have at it, then.” She eased herself over the window sill and clung to the side of the chateau. “I’ll hold him until you make it down.” The woman whistled, and her wasps cleared the room. “Just kill the girl first.”

A chill crawled up Ariane’s spine.

“Ariane!” Lucien shouted. For the first time since the attack, his voice was not cool or crisply arrogant. He sounded…frightened.

Ariane stepped away from the door and planted herself against the wall. Where’s a broom when you need it?

“Ariane—run!” Lucien shouted.

Ariane darted to the fireplace and grabbed the fire poker. I just need one good hit to his head, but he’s going to expect that.

The mage raised his sword to shoulder height, but before he could move, Ariane swung her fire poker, hitting him in the kneecap.

The mage fell to his knees with a shout.

Ariane adjusted her grip on the fire poker and stepped towards him. The mage raised his hand and clenched it into a fist, and the shadow fingers were back around Ariane’s neck, choking the life from her.

They were tighter this time, and she struggled to breathe as the mage stood.

“Ariane!” Lucien shouted.

Ariane fell to her knees, her lungs sputtering.

The mage pointed his sword at Ariane and stepped in her direction. He was flattened when a heavy form hit the door, making it careen open. The mage was flung across the room.

The abuse made the mage release the shadows strangling Ariane, and she greedily sucked in air as she watched a man stalk into the room and roar. It took her a moment to place the newest arrival as Prince Severin—for the prince was usually neat and tidy, and the man standing before her snarled like a ferocious beast.

The bug mage stuck her head in the window. “What is taking you so long?” She shrieked and pulled back when she almost took a crossbow bolt to the face.

“See, I told you I need to start practicing again.” Elle stepped into the room, cradling a crossbow with the assurance of someone who had spent countless hours handling one. “I’m not as fast as I once was.”

Prince Severin unsheathed a sword and stalked in the masked mage’s direction.

The shadow mage scrambled out the window and followed the bug mage on to the roof. Elle—her crossbow slung across her back—slipped after them. She hefted herself onto the roof and out of sight of the windows with a great deal more grace than the two mages managed.

Severin stuck his head outside the window. “Lucien, are you all right?”

“How’s Ariane?” Lucien shouted back.

Severin glanced over his shoulder. Ariane, still wheezing a little, nodded at him.

“She’s fine. Are you injured?”

“No. Your guards arrived about the same time you entered my room from the sound of it. Ariane, are you really all right?”

Severin turned back to her. “I don’t think he’ll be satisfied until he sees you.”

Ariane slowly stood and rubbed her bruised neck. She offered Severin a curtsy, making him chuff, then joined him at the window and shouted down at the garden courtyard. “I am well enough, Your Highness.” Ariane squinted out in the gloom. Soldiers bearing torches flooded the courtyard. A captain held what appeared to be a wet mound of leaves—but was probably Lucien. “I am glad you survived the fall.”

“Thank you,” Lucien said.

“I’m sure you were very graceful,” she added.

Lucien croaked. “You can bet I was.”

Ariane jumped when Elle abruptly rejoined them, skidding down the side of the chateau and then stopping herself by gripping a decorative flourish carved from the stone. She held on to it with a single hand and braced her feet against a different flourish—looking as calm as she would serving tea.

“They pulled their little disappearing act as soon as they reached the roof,” she said. “I searched the area, but they’re gone.”

“It bothers me that they managed to slip past security.” Severin offered an arm to his wife. “I’ll have to speak to the mages about increasing it—it’s a miracle they stayed their course and went after Lucien and not another visiting dignitary.”

Elle patted her husband’s arm. “I’ll go check on Lucien.”

“Be careful,” Severin warned her.

“I always am!” Elle said. “Especially given that there are no stained-glass skylights here.”

Ariane’s heart sputtered again when Elle released her hand-hold on the stone flourish and skid down the wall. When she neared the bottom of the chateau, she leaped and landed in the courtyard—still wearing her beautiful evening gown from dinner. “Lucien, you frog—why didn’t you call for us?”

“Ariane did!” Lucien snapped, sounding mad. “And a load of good it did us.”

“Worry not, Severin. Lucien is feeling feisty—a sure sign he’s fine,” Elle called up to her husband.

“Ariane and I were just attacked by two rogue mages—no, I am not fine!”

Ariane abruptly pulled back from the window when Lucien’s complaint sparked her memory. “Henry—His Highness’s valet! He is always here when we return from dinner, but we did not find him—”

Prince Severin held up a hand to forestall her. “A maid found him in the larder. It is believed the mages shook him down to get the keys to Lucien’s rooms. He is fine.”

Ariane held a hand to her still rapidly beating heart and nodded.

“The guards will take you to the chateau’s barber-surgeon. If you’ll excuse me, I must alert the guests and speak to the guards.” Severin offered Elle a shallow bow, making her blink in surprise.

Slightly dumbfounded, she followed Severin out of the war-torn bedroom and found herself surrounded by guards. Shaking her head over the night’s events, she followed the guards as they led the way out of the family wing.

Say what you will about the spreading evil, the Loire royal family has changed dramatically because of it.

* * *

Late that night, Lucien remained awake with his brother and the Erlauf representative—Colonel Friedrich—in Severin’s study as they reviewed and ordered more protective security measures.

Lucien sat next to the tea tray Elle had delivered over an hour ago and glanced over the map of Chanceux Chateau Severin had spread out across the desk.

“We’ve placed more soldiers at these entrances and increased the patrols through the guest wing and the family wing.” Severin planted his hands on the edge of his desk and scowled down at the map.

Lucien studied his brother with mounting concern as he munched on a cookie. Maybe the mages weren’t as stupid as I thought. Severin’s forehead is going to be permanently wrinkled if he keeps this up, and this is just over two rogue mages attacking me. If they really did manage to off me, he might over-react. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine, Severin. As much as it pains me to say it, your decision to temporarily make me a frog was a wise one. The Summit has been undisturbed. Everything is fine.”

“We’ve doubled the guard, swept the grounds, and a number of mages attending the Summit have bolstered the protection spells. I don’t think we can make further arrangements tonight,” Colonel Friedrich added.

Severin shook his head. “This never should have happened in the first place. How do they keep slipping past our security?”

Lucien shrugged—or tried to. The movement of his shoulders was not very visible against his large girth. “They have magic. Unless you have a protective barrier like Verglas has, there’re a thousand ways they can worm through.”

“It’s a real shame we can’t borrow some Magic Knights of Sole. They really are the best option at guarding against rogue magic users.” The Erlauf colonel adjusted his eyepatch. “My wife has a pendant that protects her from some magic attacks, and it cost a pretty penny. The cost withstanding, perhaps we should see if Craftmage Stil could make more items like it?”

“What we need is help from the Veneno Conclave.” Severin sighed.

“Have you heard any news from them?” Colonel Friedrich asked.

Severin rubbed his forehead. “Just the usual excuses—they are stretched too thin and have too many mages out on assignments already.”

“Some of my Rangers reported that they seem to have a select group of mages they are sending out to deal with the few magical catastrophes they agree to solve,” Lucien swiped another cookie off the tea tray. “Those specific mages are getting run ragged as a result. Those who can afford independence—like Craftmage Stil—are more sympathetic and aware of our plight, as they travel and have seen the state of the continent with their own eyes. However, the vast majority of the magic users remain cloistered at their Academy. I suspect they are afraid of what is going on, or they wouldn’t be insistent on consolidating their forces.”

Severin stared at him. “When did you recruit an Intelligencer good enough to send to the Veneno Conclave?”

Lucien heaved his eyes to the ceiling—as much as he could, anyway. “I did not send Elle.”

Colonel Friedrich folded his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “At least we have an enchantress on our side. Angelique has been a real asset.”

“Yes,” Severin agreed. “Though I fear she is on the brink of collapse due to exhaustion.”

“So are you,” Lucien pointed out.

“Hardly,” Severin snorted. “I am fine.”

Lucien doubted that, but he did know Severin would likely never be as close to collapse as the Lady Enchantress Angelique was—Elle would drug him before she let that happen.

“You said earlier you think these assassination attempts are about me,” Severin said. “What would make you say that?”

Lucien shrugged—or tried to anyway. “It was something they said. At one point the female suggested kidnapping, but the male disagreed and said it wouldn’t have the same effect on you as finding my body.”

Colonel Friedrich thoughtfully tilted his head. “Why would they say a silly thing like that? Killing you would raise Loire’s wrath.”

Lucien snorted. “It wouldn’t, really. I’m a pretty poor crown prince. I think many would be relieved to see Severin take over.”

“Lucien—” Severin started, his amber eyes darkened with pain and concern.

“As noble and heart-warming as your belief in me is, Severin, it is the truth. I imagine the real point of the assassination attempt is to wound Severin—even if it is only mentally.” Lucien studied his brother with narrowed frog eyes. Yes, if he wasn’t my brother in every manner, it would be easy to hate him. But he is, and I wouldn’t exchange it for anything. He cleared his throat. “It makes sense. If they tried to face him themselves, they would surely get a crossbow bolt through the heart for their troubles.”

Colonel Friedrich laughed. “Princess Elle does have fast reflexes.”

Severin slightly inclined his head—the only sign of agreement Lucien would get. “It doesn’t matter. We’re never going to give them a chance to confirm your suspicions regarding their motives, Lucien,” he growled.

The study was uncomfortably quiet for several long moments.

Colonel Friedrich muffled a yawn and broke the tension. “I’m afraid I must retire. It’s already well past my beauty sleep. I’m glad you weren’t hurt, Your Highness.” He nodded to Lucien.

Lucien attempted another shrug. “I wasn’t ever in much danger.” Ariane, however…

When Lucien had been dumped out of the window, he experienced the rare phenomena of fear gripping his heart. Not from the drop—he knew he could survive it—but because he didn’t know what would happen to the mouthy maid.

When was the last time I was that afraid? Lucien wondered as he recalled the tight feeling in his chest and his franticly pounding heart. When I learned Arcainia had set the Verglas Assassins Guild on Severin? For certain when that witch turned him into a beast. But why?

Severin was Lucien’s brother and best friend. There was more to their relationship than words could explain. But Ariane was a maid.

A maid with a snarky mouth and a brave heart. Not to mention she has the intelligence of a fox. I’m starting to grow sick of that knowing look she gives me whenever she can tell I’m faking disinterest.

Maybe that was why he liked her. Most ladies Lucien met either giggled and did their best to charm him, or they were too intelligent for his prattle and thought him a foolish dandy. Ariane was one of the few who seemed to see more than he revealed.

That was a rare feat.

Still…to say I like her is a bit much. He recalled seeing the dark shadows squeezing her throat and sucked a breath of air in—almost croaking against his will. Or perhaps it is not. I may be less intelligent than Severin, but I’m at least smart enough to realize my own preferences. It seems she has become more important to me than I thought.

He mulled over the idea for a moment, then nodded to himself. Yes. It is true.

The realization was not particularly shocking or scandalous. Lucien was selfish and arrogant enough that he didn’t care what others thought of his personal life. He found Ariane amusing. So it would be.

“You two will turn in soon?” the colonel asked.

Severin silently moved an inkwell around his desk.

“We will,” Lucien assured the foreign prince/colonel. “Or Elle will come for him soon.”

Colonel Friedrich laughed. “Strong women are so loveable.”

Lucien snorted, but a soft smile curled across Severin’s lips. “They are,” he agreed.

Lucien made a noise of disgust. Good gads. I hope I never grow as hopelessly in love as Severin. Then I’ll really be an idiot.