Chapter 12
The night stretched around us, yet no matter how many minutes trickled away sleep couldn’t lure me from my whirling thoughts. I sensed Alden’s own worry choke the night as he too lay awake, forming into twisting shapes much as King Ciaran had manipulated the darkness, as if remnants of his power lingered along with the effects brought by his presence.
This lurking darkness reached inside my subconsciousness like sentient shadows to twist my worry into tangible forms—all of Corbin. During the day I’d been able to placate my frantic fears, but now there was nothing to distract me, giving them full reign.
The darkness breathed life into all my worst imaginings—that I would remain trapped as a frog forever, leaving my family without support; how in my absence Mother struggled to care for Corbin and manage the house alone; Corbin’s current illness leaving him weak with fever and crying from the relentless pain. Helplessness entangled my small body like seaweed chaining me to the pond’s dark depths where there was no escape.
My eyes snapped open with a breathless ribbit. Daybreak had finally arrived to push away the suffocating darkness. Slants of early morning dawn caressed the water, yet its rays did little to warm my all-encompassing chill, the icy fear paralyzing my limbs no match for my body’s ability to adapt its temperature to its surroundings.
Shudders rippled over me, shaking the lily pad where I perched to create extending ripples across the pond. My first inclination was to find Alden, but there was no sign of him. Panic, already so near the surface after the nightmare that had haunted my sleep, surged through me. I hopped along the lily pads to reach the shore where the remnants of his fire remained along with his tangle of unfolded blankets, evidence he’d left in a hurry.
I struggled to still my frantic breaths enough to focus on my heightened awareness so I could search the forest. After a moment of concentration, I was able to carefully peel back the magical layers filling the air with its gentle hum to detect soft footsteps not far from where we’d encountered the dark king.
The sound guided each of my hurried hops until I found Alden amongst the pines, crouching to search not only with his eyes but with the glistening pinprick of magic against his fingertips that combed the forest floor.
“Alden!” My voice was weak with relief yet sharp enough to be scolding. He glanced up, brows furrowed in surprise.
“Good morning, Mae. Did you sleep well?” The dark circles beneath his eyes testified of his own difficult night.
“Of course not,” I snapped. “My horrible night was made worse when I woke up to find you missing.”
“Were you worried?” He blinked in clear surprise at the conclusion.
Worry…the intensity of the emotion shocked me. With the constant struggle to survive brought by my common birth and Corbin’s continuous precarious health, worry had been my constant companion. Yet though I recognized the feeling, it now felt…different.
I’d never expected to harbor such an emotion towards a wizard whose magic made him perfectly capable of protecting himself. Such feelings seemed unproductive when I considered how much more my helpless little brother or exhausted, overworked mother were in need of my concern. The feelings were not only thoroughly perplexing, but brought a sense of guilt, as if worrying about someone outside my family somehow betrayed them.
I was tempted to bury my concern deep enough it’d be impossible to unearth and examine…only to still at Alden’s softening expression that caused my insides to flutter in a way that was both alarming and pleasing.
“Forgive me for worrying you. While I’m accustomed to receiving concern from my family, guards, and on occasion from my subjects, it’s not often I receive it from a friend. Thank you, Mae.”
Heat swarmed to prickle every wart marring my skin, a contrast to the misty morning’s chill. In my embarrassment I tried to avoid his endearing expression…but my circular vision made it impossible to fully look away. My new abilities could be quite the inconvenience.
I cleared my throat with a rumbly croak. “I should have known you wouldn’t waste a moment you could be spending on the competition.” I hopped closer to study the section of ground he searched, which appeared entirely ordinary to my untrained observation. “Have you found what you’re looking for?”
He shook his head. “I’m undoubtedly wasting precious time best spent on coming up with an idea for a new kind of elemental magic, while the part of me that is afraid my creativity isn’t up to the task is finding any excuse to stall. Though deep down I’m only sabotaging myself, I still hold out the hope that whatever clue is hidden within this forest will grant me what I feel I lack in order to compete with advanced magical wielders.”
I felt a swell of protectiveness at his deepening look of dejection. “Not only are you not approaching the task with your own abilities and strengths, but you’re likely giving the other competitors too much credit by assuming they’re strong in all the areas you feel you’re lacking. If you approach the competition by attempting to emulate King Ciaran, the judges won’t be able to adequately measure whether you, Prince Alden, are fit for a council position.”
He considered my words a moment before slowly nodding. “You’re right. I should spend my time and efforts focusing on my magic.”
He ceased searching for whatever clue the king had alluded to last night and returned to the clearing to practice his magic, but I lingered. There was little I could do as a silent bystander; I yearned to support him in ways beyond encouragement. King Ciaran’s hint had been important enough to Alden for him to expend so much focus on it; perhaps I could dedicate my own attention and my enhanced animal senses to the abandoned task.
This new sense of purpose served as an antidote to some of my suffocating helplessness and guided me deeper into the forest. Hop by hop I carefully investigated the undergrowth. Morning hadn’t illuminated the uncertainty that had marred my search last night, but I hoped it’d make whatever I was looking for easier to recognize should I stumble upon it.
Discovering that I’d spent my entire life living in an enchanted forest without recognizing the magic that filled the trees left me feeling insecure in my powers of observation, but since beginning my training I’d become more familiar with the power that touched every living thing.
I hoped that even my rudimentary knowledge would be enough to detect something outside my realm of experience, though in truth I possessed little hope of being able to discover something Alden had missed. Yet while I couldn’t access my powers in my cursed form, they manifested themselves in unique ways that would provide an advantage he didn’t possess.
My enhanced vision made the world sharper, causing the vivid colors to pulsate with energy; my hearing amplified not only the sounds filling the forest but magic’s soft, nearly indiscernible melody, making its whispers that wove through the air easier to decipher. With some focus, I was able to comb through each magical layer glimmering across the undergrowth in search for what didn’t belong.
Eventually I came across a clump of clover containing a unique aura. Curious, I probed the magical air around it as best as my webbed feet allowed. In one of my dreaded magical theory lessons during my apprenticeship, Alden had explained that magic connected to everything, and that each force possessed unique properties that made them naturally inclined for certain aspects of magic—whether spells, potions, or even use with the elements.
Whereas most seemed inclined towards one or possibly even two, this plant seemed to test the usual limits by possessing the potential for any of the elements, something I hadn’t yet encountered in my studies.
“I might have found something.” I hesitated to distract Alden with false hope, not trusting my limited experience and unwilling to bring something up that would only discourage him further, but if this was indeed what we were looking for, my silence would hinder his potential progress.
As though receiving magical advice from a frog was the most natural thing in the world, he immediately tucked his magic away and approached to crouch beside me. He rummaged through the undergrowth before his breath hooked. “This plant possesses an affinity for multiple forms of magic.” He met my gaze. “Could this be what King Ciaran alluded to?”
I shrugged. “It seems a likely possibility.”
I expected him to be happier he’d finally discovered King Ciaran’s hint but he only sighed as he pulled his hand back. “The magical energy is strong; I’m not sure why I failed to notice it earlier.”
“Even if you failed to immediately notice it, it seems too coincidental you chose this location randomly; I have no doubt that your subconsciousness recognized the magical possibilities here, even if in your distraction you didn’t immediately realize it.”
As I spoke, the furrows of discouragement harrowing his expression grew slightly more shallow, though they didn’t smooth entirely, his doubts remaining as he plucked the spellbook from where it hovered over his shoulder. “Magical maps.”
The book obeyed his command and glowed; when the enchanted light faded, he flipped through its newly transformed contents now showcasing all manner of maps until he came across one of the forest where we currently resided. He studied it a moment before tapping a section.
“It appears this forest is known for producing an abundance of natural resources that can be used in multiple fields of study. I had never heard of such a phenomenon; I’m admittedly rather inexperienced in geography and never considered how I could use the layout of an area to enhance my magic.”
Even with Alden’s own royal tutelage, I wasn’t surprised that the dark king possessed greater knowledge on the subject. With the curse of darkness afflicting his kingdom, he undoubtedly had given deliberate focus to the study of other lands in hopes that by better understanding their makeup he could find a potential means of restoring the light to his own kingdom.
“Perhaps that’s part of these challenges: to not only test your magical knowledge, but how you utilize other subjects in enhancing your powers.”
Alden nodded thoughtfully in response and returned to his task now armed with the knowledge that whatever he created could utilize more than one element, which would open up more possibilities. I resumed my search in case there was anything more of interest to discover in these woods, yet despite my best efforts in concentration, my curiosity acted as a magical lure, continuously drawing my attention to the nearby wizard as he conjured each element in turn and experimented with methods in weaving them together.
With my elementary training in spells, charms, and potions, my experience in the more intermediate elemental magic had been limited to what Alden had demonstrated for me when he was attempting to secure me as his apprentice, leaving me fascinated with the process.
I attempted to contain my whirl of questions in order to avoid ruining his concentration, but in the end my valiant efforts proved futile as my curiosity emerged victorious. “Are there ways to combine them?”
I’d expected him to ignore me as he’d often done during my apprenticeship, but to my surprise his gaze shifted over; his handful of conjured wind that was swirling several leaves gently through the air fizzled out, causing them to flutter to the ground.
“What do you mean?”
Despite his patient tone I hesitated, not wanting to distract him unnecessarily, before pushing forward in the hopes that my prodding questions would potentially help him approach the problem from a different angle.
“Magic seems to be comprised of various building blocks—whether it’s spells containing layers of words, or potions comprised of multiple ingredients.”
He paused. “You’re suggesting I’m perhaps overcomplicating it? I don’t deny the possibility, which is ironic considering I often scolded my apprentice for doing that very thing and frequently encouraged her to return to the basics.”
I bristled at the example, but suppressed my frustration to better focus on the matter at hand. “Perhaps the elements aren’t any different—by layering them on top of one another you can create something unique, working with them as a whole rather than separately.”
Though admittedly intrigued, he seemed reluctant to accept my insight. “Relying on you rather than my own knowledge feels like cheating.”
Annoyance flared at his continual stubbornness. If he knew my true identity, I could share my experiences not only with my family helping one another, but how my village often came together to work together. I pondered another way to impart my thoughts.
“Advice is no different than the other knowledge at your disposal; how you use it and your magical skill to approach the puzzle will remain unique to you. No one can rely solely on their own merits. A king has advisors, a prince has guards, and those in a village rely on one another in order to survive. Seeking guidance from others will only enhance your efforts in doing your best and allow you to reach your full potential.”
Silence extended as he considered my words before the corner of his mouth slowly curved up. “You’re rather insightful for a frog.”
I swelled at the compliment, my throat enlarging with an involuntary croak of pleasure, which earned me one of his adorable smiles that had been rather elusive of late.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to discuss the matter with you; if I hope to succeed in my goal, the first thing I must sacrifice is my pride.”
I immediately seized his tentative invitation before he could change his mind. “Based on my understanding of the task, you’re not being asked to create something new, but rather expand on your current knowledge of the elements in order to discover how to use their magic in unique ways that will benefit others.”
“I’ve been attempting to think outside the box, but everything I’ve come up with so far seems too lackluster for such a prestigious competition. I need to think of something both unique and practical if I am to stand out amongst my competitors.”
He listed a variety of ways the elements could handle basic tasks. In truth they weren’t bad ideas in and of themselves, but I had to admit that he was correct—they lacked originality. With Alden’s intelligence, I knew he had the capacity to come up with something innovative, if he could only discover that initial inspiration to build upon.
I considered. “Perhaps the problem is not your education but your limited knowledge: you’ve only experienced the world through the lens of a prince and a wizard. Until you learn to see things differently, it may be hard to come up with uses for the elements beyond your current understanding.”
Thoughtful furrows creased his brow. “I’ve been involved in my royal duties enough to possess a general understanding of my subjects’ lives, though it wasn’t until I met my apprentice that my knowledge extended beyond the mere basics. While I’ve previously visited villages and interacted with my subjects, my apprentice’s home was the first village house I’d been invited to, allowing me to observe the lives of the common class through her family.” His lips twitched at a sudden memory. “While there, I used my powers in a way I’d never done previously: I enchanted a broom.”
My own smile turned up fondly at the recollection, along with every mention of the bewitched object Mother had given in each her letters, as well as her gratitude towards the help the spell provided in her chores.
“What spell did you use to enchant it?” The question was both for his benefit and to satisfy one of many unresolved curiosities about the abundance of spells that could be performed.
He shrugged. “Just a bit of wind magic.”
“In essence, you came up with a creative use of the elements to create a new spell; I doubt How to Enchant a Household Broom is a charm you encountered during your studies.”
His eyes bulged. He opened his mouth…but rather than words, the only sound that emerged was a groan as he burrowed his fingers into his hair and closed his eyes. “Magic is so much simpler when I’m not trying so hard.” He scrubbed his hands across his face and sighed.
“In essence, when magic is free from pressure, you’re able to focus on how much you enjoy it, which in turn increases your creative ability.”
“Exactly.” Hope lit his eyes as he peeked through his fingers to stare at me. “I think I finally understand your earlier insight: the competition isn’t testing my skills as a mage to manipulate the elements themselves, but instead how I approach it using my powers.”
“The council position undoubtedly requires a certain level of mastery,” I said. “But considering you’re working towards becoming a representative in the field of magic over all who practice it, members need to possess a deeper understanding of the various ways it can be used. Magic for its own sake is of little worth if it can’t enhance the lives of others.”
“Something my position as a prince gives me greater investment in.” He nestled his chin in his hands and stared off into the trees, as if searching the magic filling the air for additional clues.
“There are several different ways I can accomplish this task, but with the deadline pressing, it’d be best to focus on the approach you’re suggesting: finding a creative way to use one of the elements…or perhaps several working together, similar to how they coexist in this plant. So that is the hint…” He stroked each leaf thoughtfully.
Leave it to Alden to find another way to challenge himself. “I know that your royal world has accustomed you to flashy displays of magic, but even the most simple of charms have potential—such as an enchanted broomstick lessening the workload of an overburdened mother.”
He returned to his experiments with renewed purpose, building upon my advice with his own skillset. The stress that had previously shrouded each of his rigid movements had disappeared; joy lit his expression once more, an adorable sight I hadn’t witnessed since before the competition and which was much more distracting than it should have been.
I gave my head a rigid shake. Now was not the time to allow my mischievous thoughts to consider anything adorable about the wizard. Yet despite these firm admonitions, awe kept my gaze riveted to him as he worked. He didn’t seem to have a blueprint in mind; rather, he played with various elements in turn, experimentally weaving them together to see how they interacted…similar to how King Ciaran had molded the darkness with the same ease as a potter manipulating clay. A small smile touched his lips as he seemed to actually be enjoying himself for the first time.
Time passed, measured by the several shapes in various stages of fire, earth, water, and air that littered the ground before an idea finally lit Alden’s countenance. Eyes bright with determination, he pushed forward with greater purpose, conjuring swaths of water, handfuls of fire, adornments of earth, and threads of air, all of which he wove together in a manner similar to Mother creating cloth at her loom.
When he finished, he held up what looked like a small, plain square of white cloth. I felt a flicker of disappointment as I stared at it, such a drab and unassuming thing after the swirls of magic he’d been crafting with.
But as I hopped closer, I noticed an unmistakable shimmer of enchantment. A layer of water magic wrapped around the cloth…or was it air magic? I prodded it inquisitively and finally noticed that the scrap of muslin was surrounded by all four types of magic, something I”d never seen before.
“What is it?”
Alden grinned. “It”s whatever you need it to be,” he explained, rather cryptically. He conjured a bowl and set it in front of him before wringing the enchanted cloth over it. Water poured out of the muslin, filling the bowl with the purest crystal drops. He paused to take a sip and poured the rest over a nearby plant.
“The water spell,” I murmured. “What else can it do?”
Alden took the cloth—which had somehow stayed dry—between his fingers and concentrated a moment before snapping it sharply and releasing it. A spark flew out of it, catching in a clump of dried moss. The cloth danced merrily above the embers, fanning them into healthy flames. At Alden’s nod, a concentrated whoosh of air extinguished the burgeoning fire.
“Fire and wind,” I whispered in wonder. “Does it do anything for earth?”
Alden tried to look nonchalant, but I could tell he was especially excited about this demonstration. He carefully wrapped the cloth around the base of a small berry bush that wasn’t currently fruiting and gently pressed it against the ground.
My amphibian eyes caught a faint glow that seemed to move from the earth into the trunk of the bush, causing it to tremble slightly. I gasped as buds formed along the branches, blossoming before my eyes. Before I could do more than marvel at their beauty, the petals fluttered to the ground, replaced by small green globes that quickly grew into glossy, burgundy fruit.
“Try one,” he encouraged.
My long tongue darted out, snagging a berry that burst against my taste buds with sweetness. Marveling, I stared at the wizard. “You used all four elements, not in any flashy display, but in ways useful for even a nonmagical person.”
“You were right, Mae: my purpose in magic is to help people. This is something anyone could use, but especially those most in need. With this simple piece of fabric, they can have water and food as they travel, along with warmth.”
“Oh, Alden.” My tone was breathless.
I expected a triumphant grin, but instead he lowered his creation with a wince of pain, as if the effort he’d expended to create it had hurt him…a reaction I’d never witnessed in him before.
Alarm flared. “Are you alright?”
“It’s nothing.”
But the lines creasing his brow contradicted his hasty reassurances; he flexed his hand, as if trying to shake off an unsettling feeling. My worry had returned, causing my rapidly pounding heart to beat even faster than I’d become accustomed to in my new body.
Upon noticing the concern undoubtedly evident in my expression, his grip on the flower tightened as he hastily straightened. “We should leave; the deadline for the elemental task is quickly approaching.”
Before I could question him further, he created a portal that would take us to the next round of judging…where we’d see just how well Alden’s elemental flower held up against the offerings brought by the other competitors.