Chapter 9
Iwatched Wizard Alden from his position kneeling on the bank a short distance away where we’d set up camp, staring into the murky water as he painstakingly reapplied his disguise so that it wouldn’t falter again, his spellbook hovering nearby repeatedly opening to specific pages of magical formulas to aid him. He paused to stare at his reflection before he splashed the water, soaking not only his face and hair but his robes. With a groan he buried his dripping face against his pulled up knees, where he remained.
I tentatively hopped closer and grazed his leg, the closest spot I could reach. He startled and slowly lifted his despondent gaze to meet mine.
“Oh, it’s you.” He frowned. “I just realized I don’t know your name. Do frogs have names?”
I gazed at him for a moment, battling internally. While part of me was desperate to be known in hopes he would work to free me from my curse, my trust had been shaken when I discovered I was an item on a checklist.
Eventually, my hope that he would decide to help won out. I tried to say Maeve, but unfortunately the curse had taken this loophole into account—my true name emerged as nothing more than a frustrated croak, forcing me to settle for my nickname. “Mae.” Disappointment coursed through me, causing me to realize that despite my doubts, I ultimately trusted Alden’s intentions, even as I felt a small twinge of relief that at least he didn’t have to know—yet—about my foolishness that had landed me in this predicament.
“Mae?” Even though the prince didn’t speak it in Mother’s gentle tone or Corbin’s dear voice, my heart wrenched upon hearing it again. His head cocked to the side as if puzzled and he opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but shook his head and murmured to himself something I didn’t quite catch; I only heard the words, “name…male.”
Now that the matter of what to call me was settled, I returned to the one that had drawn me to his side. “I thought you’d be happier at your success in passing the first challenge, but instead you seem…rather miserable.”
He snorted, a rather unregal sound. “An apt description for my emotional state, considering I didn’t pass anything. Once again my success is only a result of my blasted station. Thank goodness magic will be the judge in this competition, yet what if even it chooses to favor me based on title rather than merit? My station has already prevented me from furthering my studies as I wish, putting me at a disadvantage, behind those whose time isn’t constrained by a position they did nothing to earn and who didn’t come this far by relying on such a handicap.”
He spoke his confession in a rush of words before reburying himself against his knees.
“You earned your place via your own merits—you not only enchanted me with communication, but transposed magical knowledge.”
He glanced up long enough to roll his eyes. “In regards to the latter, you well know I did nothing of the sort.”
“How else did I know the answer to the enchantress’s question?” I challenged. “Contrary to what you may believe, there are no secret libraries containing magical tomes within a typical swamp where frogs make their home.”
“When I first touched you, I sensed that you possess magic of your own…which confirms I did nothing to qualify for this magical competition on my own.”
H [Marked as a reminder for me to go over this addition again.] is fists clenched. “I will do all in my power to never need rely on my title again.”
Beyond his vehement declaration, I detected pain that went deeper than the events that had just transpired at the entrance challenge…which brought to my remembrance an instance early in our acquaintance when he had eluded to his royal status giving him a position he didn’t deserve.
I considered my words carefully. “Your frustration seems to extend beyond this single instance. Has there been another time when you previously acquired something based on your title?”
He didn’t immediately answer, his gaze gaunt as he stared unseeing into the flickering flames. He finally took a wavering breath. “When I was thirteen, I’d progressed as far in my magical studies as I could beneath my tutor and was eager for the next step in my training, as were several of my peers. We had the opportunity to receive individual training with highly esteemed enchanters.
“A young witch with a pronounced gift hoped to gain an internship with Enchantress Ivy, who specialized in her particular talent. As Head Enchantress, Ivy was the most skilled enchantress of the available teachers, so my father insisted she tutor me instead of the young witch she was initially assigned.”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t find out what had happened until well into my internship after discovering the extent of this young witch’s stagnation in her progress after she’d been matched to a teacher who didn’t possess the knowledge adequate enough to help her grow in her unique abilities. I tried to make things right, but switching at that point teachers would require both students to start over, so in the end I could do nothing. The guilt has haunted me for years.”
Remorse settled over him at the memory. I hopped closer and rested a warty hand on his arm. “You were so young at the time, at an age where it was difficult to accurately notice others’ potential outside of yourself, or understand the full weight of how such a decision could affect others.”
He sighed. “I know, but that doesn’t lessen my guilt. The experience not only deepened my aversion to my status, but made me desperate to live up to my magical potential so that my inadvertently taking away another budding witch’s opportunity to study beneath Enchantress Ivy wouldn’t be in vain, as if by reaching my potential as a wizard could somehow atone for what had happened…even though deep down it will do nothing.”
Silence settled over us at the conclusion of his story, the only sound the fire’s popping embers. “What was the witch’s specialty?” I asked.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Healing, similar to my apprentice’s.” [I just had a thought! Should I add in the Epilogue that Maeve is receiving specialized lessons from Enchantress Ivy to become a healer?
And wouldEnchantress Ivy specializing in healing in any way affect Alden being able to acquire the healing charm Maeve needs when he steps down from the council?]
I emanated an involuntary croak of surprise. He mistook my reaction.
“The young witch’s unfulfilled potential in such a rare talent that could benefit so many only deepens my regret. I admit discovering that my apprentice also possessed a similar aptitude drew me to her. I hoped that if I could help her develop her talents, in some way I could make it up to the witch who lost the opportunity due to my selfishness…only for me to neglect my apprentice’s training for my own selfish interests. Once again I’m putting my title above others…this time my magical one, not my royal one.”
He unfolded his clenched fist to glare at the box he held that contained information about the next challenge. Longing briefly pierced his frustration, but the next moment he threw the chest into the pond. Without hesitation I jumped in after it.
I felt a brief flare of panic at my inability to swim, but fortunately the skill accompanied my new body. I expected my lungs to scream for air the moment I submerged, but I didn’t seem to require any. The cold water was a pleasant temperature, comfortable against my warty skin, and I was able to hold my breath without difficulty.
I kicked backwards with my webbed feet to dive deep enough to wrench the jewelry box free from the soil. It was almost too heavy to lift in my diminutive state, but I managed to hoist it into my thin arms and push off the ground to swim towards the surface.
Without want of air my movements were leisurely, allowing me time to enjoy my surroundings. My new vision allowed me to see through the murky water so I could experience the world beneath the surface in vivid detail, an array of leafy aquatic plants and colorful fish, a unique backdrop that contained an enchantment of its own.
I lingered as long as I could before my weak arms ached from the weight of the small box. I bridged the remaining distance to break through the surface and hop onto the bank where Wizard Alden awaited me, eyes bulging with worry.
“Are you alright, Mae?” Even with my nod of assurance he remained unconvinced. He lowered his flattened palm for me to hop onto and lifted me eye-level to better examine me. Annoyance quickly eclipsed his relief at seeing me alright. “Why did you jump in after it?”
“To rescue it after you foolishly threw it away. There was little risk, considering I’m a frog.”
Wizard Alden sighed. “I have no right to participate in the next challenge. How can I do so in good conscience when in my weakness I entered the competition by claiming ideas that weren’t mine? I didn’t perform the knowledge spell Enchantress Ivy gave me credit for as it’s one I have yet to learn, nor did I create a third charm like the rules dictated. I shouldn’t have given into temptation by taking the easier path. I don’t deserve—”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but their position atop my new body rendered it impossible. “You do deserve to enter this competition. You’ve achieved an advanced level of magic through fifteen years of training and hard work, unlocked the magical lock on the map, deciphered the first challenge’s riddle, and performed a complicated spell that granted me speech. That’s not nothing. You need to remain in this competition, not just for the promised reward but so that you can prove to yourself what a remarkable wizard you are.”
He stared at me, his eyes glassy, as if he might cry. “Thank you, Mae.”
The emotion wrenching his voice reached inside to tug on my heart. I wasn’t certain frogs could blush, but I imagined prickles of heat tinging my cheeks, likely a lingering effect from my exertion in retrieving his clue.
I cleared my throat and hastily looked away. “Are you going to figure out how to unlock the box?”
He remained still a moment, as if determined to ignore the next challenge out of stubborn pride. In the end his desires for the magical position compelled him to examine it. He only needed a minute’s perusal.
“It’s not a complicated charm. I should be able to unlock it in an hour at most.”
“I told you that you were qualified. It’s not magic you lack but confidence.”
A shadow of a smile finally emerged and I thrilled to see it. I couldn’t help but watch as he worked at the puzzle lock—the way his grey eyes lit up, the furrows in his forehead as he concentrated, the steady confidence in each movement despite his flares of insecurity.
I hopped towards him for a closer look. He seemed to be spinning a glistening ribbon of light, but from my position on the ground it was impossible to see the way he maneuvered this magic like a lock pick.
My frustrated ribbit drew his gaze and he slowed upon noticing my attention. His fingers curled around my stomach to carefully pick me up and rest me on his shoulder so I could better see.
He’s so thoughtful.
I made the observation begrudgingly, hating to admit I’d been wrong in my initial assessment of his character. My attention was quickly drawn to his magic. Though my vantage point offered me a much clearer view, his moving hands got in the way, making it difficult to watch in any great detail.
“How is this unlocking process different than when you unlocked the enchanted map?”
My unquenched curiosity broke his concentration, but though his movements didn’t slow, he remained patient as he answered.
“Quite different,” he said. “The map’s lock was an enchanted one invisible to the eye that acted as an additional layer hovering above the object, while this is an actual lock. Opening it is like a code one has to listen to with a magical ear and careful observation of the magic surrounding it in order to decipher how to unlock it. One of the roles of the Enchanters’ Council is to serve as guardians for priceless relics and protective spells, so it doesn’t surprise me that such a charm guards the clue to the next challenge. I imagine there will be many more.”
His information saturated the dry soil parched from the knowledge I’d yearned for in the days following his absence, but not enough to completely quench my constant thirst.
“What’s the difference between a charm that requires you to hear the magic and one that requires you to feel it? What types of relics need to be guarded? Are there other things the Council protects? What—”
His chuckle interrupted the myriad of rapid questions. “You’re quite inquisitive for a frog, even a magical one. You remind me of my apprentice.”
He remembered me. By his frown, I worried the recollections weren’t favorable…and in that moment I realized just how much I cared about his good opinion.
My heart beat rapidly. “Is something the matter?”
He hesitated. “Thinking about my apprentice reminds me that I haven’t been a very good mentor to her. Her curiosity is one of my favorite things about her, her interest in magic like a thirsty plant that I repeatedly neglected to water, especially when she was just starting her magical journey. Despite being so consumed with preparing for this competition, I should have treated her better rather than be selfishly absorbed in my own interests.”
Though his clear remorse softened me, it wasn’t enough to heal the hurt brought by his neglect. “If you were so busy, why did you acquire an apprentice at all? Was it solely for the pride and accomplishment?”
“A bit of that.”
I blinked, stunned he’d admitted it so readily.
He considered. “But there was another, more important reason.” He said nothing more, but I couldn’t leave the question unresolved.
“What was this reason?”
He cast me a sidelong glance. “Is a frog really interested in this story?”
“If we’re to be companions for the foreseeable future, I want to better understand you.”
He nodded but didn’t immediately speak. The lock emanated a faint click that made me think he’d unlocked it, but he just flicked his wrist to exchange the golden magical light for an amber one, as if switching between magical tools. I wanted to ask about the difference between the two, but was too invested in our current thread to distract him.
“I met my apprentice the same day I had an unpleasant encounter with my sister…the magical one, not my sweet nonmagical elder sister. Demetria has always been fascinated with magic, but her interest lies in exploring forbidden aspects of the craft. In her frequent efforts to prove that her powers are superior, we got in a magical fight…which I lost, leaving me feeling resentful that despite her frequent abuse of her powers she possesses greater talent. So when later that day I met the woman who would become my apprentice, I desired to acquire the status of mentor not solely for the competition, but to tutor someone in the magical arts as they should be learned.” He sighed. “Or perhaps those reasons were merely an excuse and in truth I only wanted to feel better about my own abilities. Despite my initial reasons, I found tutoring her surprisingly enjoyable…albeit distracting.”
Annoyance flared in my heart at his admission, but before I could offer a snapping retort, his brows furrowed.
“Perhaps that’s not the best word. I didn’t mind her curiosity and I found great satisfaction in watching her grow. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been so distracted with my own concerns.”
The words reminded him of the matter at hand and he returned to his lock. I struggled to sort out my emotions warring between lingering annoyance at his neglect and relief at his confession that he hadn’t meant to ill use me as I found my attention drawn to his magic…particularly the way he lit up as he manipulated it.
He’s rather cute. It was different than being handsome, though he was that too—it embodied both his personality and his passion for magic, all which only enhanced his appearance. “Are your good looks part of a charm or are they natural?” Curiosity compelled me to ask the impertinent question before I could check the errant words.
His hands stilled. “Pardon?”
My entire body grew unbearably hot, tempting me to hop into the pond to hide my burning embarrassment. “Nevermind.”
By his bewildered expression he’d clearly heard me. “I have better uses for my magic than my appearance. Does your question indicate that you find me attractive?” He seemed rightfully confused that an apparent amphibian happened to notice such a thing.
The heat suffusing my warty cheeks deepened. “I—” The last thing I wanted to admit was that yes I happened to find him annoyingly handsome, an opinion which would prove awkward after I turned back into a human and he realized I’d been his apprentice this entire time. “It was merely an observation. After all, I’m a frog.”
“A delicate way of informing me that despite my secret ambitions, I can give you no competition for the myriad of frog love interests I’m sure you’ve had throughout your life.” The idea seemed to amuse him. “If you wish to become a human, then you’ll eventually need to expand your horizons to people…but you still won’t need to worry about me, considering I have no interest in a relationship.”
His statement about being my competition confused me, but my attention was caught by the last part of his statement. “You don’t?” It seemed a preference unbefitting a prince who possessed unlimited options amongst the court.
He didn’t seem inclined to answer, his attention already far from our topic and focused entirely on the lock. I thought that’d be the end of our conversation, but after a few minutes of silence he eventually spoke.
“My looks are like my title—the product of random chance. Rather than my personality or my abilities, they’re what instead draw the unwanted attention of women whom I doubt see beyond them or my status.”
Which only reminded me of an unresolved puzzle. “You told me you once earned another position you feel you didn’t deserve.”
He lifted his gaze. “Does such a tale really interest you?”
To my own surprise I found that it did. Ever since meeting the prince, mystery had shrouded him like the magic he possessed. I wanted to blame his aloofness and distraction with his own responsibilities preventing us from getting to know one another, but in truth I’d been just as consumed with my own studies, likewise too busy to take notice of him.
Yet now, cursed as a frog and miles away from my family, my elusive mentor was my only companion. “It does,” I said.
“Then perhaps I’ll share that story another time.” He returned his focus to the lock. I felt bad having diverted his attention for so long, so I didn’t interrupt him until he finished, a process that took another hour. It eventually clicked open and a swath of light rose to form into a parchment bearing instructions for the next task.
Wizard Alden plucked it from the air. I gave him a moment to study it before I could no longer contain my curiosity. “What’s the next task?”
He didn’t immediately answer, his brows furrowing as he reread it. “A test of Elemental Magic.”
“Such as wielding fire, wind, water, or earth?”
He’d already demonstrated his prowess in such abilities back when he’d been attempting to convince me to become his apprentice. Yet he continued to frown. With an impatient sigh I hopped into a position where I could better read its contents—which turned out to be atop his head of brown hair, a position that was surprising soft and which brought with it the rather startling urge to nestle myself deeper.
He jolted, nearly sending me careening off my perch. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to read.” I expected him to brush me off, but to my surprise he made no motion to do so.
“Next time please warn me before you do that.” He allowed me to remain and further obliged me by lifting the instructions so I could better see them.
Unsurprising for a magical competition, the task was a bit more complicated than I’d initially assumed, yet still seemed simple enough: to use the elements to create a new form of magic.
“That’s not too bad.”
He startled, and this time I did tumble from my precarious perch, only spared a painful landing when he caught me. His widened eyes stared down at me sprawled on his palm. “Not too bad? Do you have any idea what it takes to create new magic?”
A shiver of annoyance rippled over me as I sat up on my haunches. I might have the unfortunate luck of currently being trapped as a frog, but I wasn’t entirely without magical knowledge…though admittedly a month’s worth of study was nothing to boast about.
He looked too panicked for me to retort with the sarcastic quip I was tempted to bestow. My flare of temper fizzled, whether because my magical transformation had miraculously granted me patience or the understanding I’d glimpsed in the prince’s motives and character had moved me.
“Apparently not. What does it require?”
“Creating forms of any particular magic requires not only deep knowledge but impressive skill—to know it on such an intimate level as to be able to manipulate it at will and create something new.”
“Which seems an ideal challenge in a competition where the winner will sit on a council over other magical beings.”
He only groaned.
“Why are you so discouraged? Didn’t you expect something of this nature when you entered?”
“It’s one thing to anticipate something and quite another to be required to actually do it. I’m not sure whether I actually possess the necessary skills. I couldn’t even come up with clever charms to cast on you; how can I create something entirely new? Though I’m experienced in elemental magic, it doesn’t extend to mastery. If I can’t live for my magic…what purpose do I have?”
I sighed. “You’ve given up before you’ve even begun. What better way to learn what you’re capable of than through the challenges this competition will require?”
He bit his lip. “Perhaps because for the first time in my life, I have the opportunity to earn something I want based on merit rather than position. I’ve always wondered what I’m truly capable of, and am terrified of the possibility I’ll fail at the one thing that brings me joy.”
It wasn’t until this moment that I realized just how much his magic meant to him. At last I felt I fully understood the prince—the reason why he’d insisted on keeping his identity a secret when we’d first met, his obsession with his magical studies, his acquiring an apprentice he had little time for, his neglecting his royal duties in order to enter such a prestigious competition, his desires to win according to his own merits without relying on help from others.
I felt the strangest urgency to erase the defeat settling over him, a desire for his happiness I couldn’t even begin to explain. I remembered each token of kindness he’d rendered me as Maeve, particularly the way he’d made Corbin smile. For all his faults, he was inherently a good person.
In that moment I decided to do all I could to help him win, even if it was the last thing I ever did.