Chapter 15
Sleep that had been difficult to obtain the night before now felt impossible from my current position—no longer balancing on a lily pad, but resting on Alden’s pillow. His head was nestled only a few centimeters away, each of his rhythmic breaths acute in the darkness, my new night vision such that darkness was no obstacle to admiring him; no matter where I looked, I could see his softened features only a short distance away.
I’d protested the arrangement the moment Alden had suggested it, but the curse prevented my informing the overly compensating prince that it would be inappropriate for a woman to sleep so near him—an arrangement made worse when I was his apprentice—leaving me no counterargument, especially when our cramped shelter left very few options that wouldn’t expose me to the rain.
In the end I’d been helpless against Alden’s sweet insistences to share his pillow, and though my small size provided enough room for me to effectively keep my distance, no amount felt far enough with my escalating uncertainties.
The spellbook that had curled itself beneath the blanket and tucked itself against Alden’s side served as an unofficial chaperone. The cast communication spell allowed me a glimpse of its smugness in satisfaction as it guessed the reason I couldn’t sleep, which only seemed to confirm its misguided notions. I never would have imagined that the spellbook who initially hadn’t taken any interest in me would have become such a determined matchmaker.
I snuggled deeper in the soft down and closed my eyes with a firm resolution to ignore Alden’s proximity, yet I could still sense his nearness, growing more acute ever since realizing the direction of my shifting feelings. I struggled to redirect my thoughts, focusing instead on the rhythmic pattering of rain against our makeshift shelter overhead or on counting the stars I could faintly see beneath the thin shroud of clouds, but nothing worked, leaving me a captive of my insomnia.
The night seemed to stretch on forever. Eventually the rain ceased, leaving behind a stillness with its blanket of raindrops against the forest, and a ribbon of soft dawn caressed the horizon. Alden stirred awake, his bleary gaze immediately shifting to where I rested a few inches away, as if to assure himself I was still there.
He sat up to stretch before giving me a gentle pat. “Good morning, Mae. I didn’t know frogs were such early risers.”
I didn’t have the heart to confess that I hadn’t slept at all; there was no use worrying him when he had far more pressing matters to which to devote his attention. “Have your powers fully recovered?” Magic felt like the safest topic to broach.
He flexed his hand experimentally and summoned a handful of magic, glowing brightly in the faded morning light. “Better, but not entirely recovered. I likely expended too much for yesterday’s potions.” Worry tugged on his frown as his mind drifted back to those failures. He cast an uncertain glance towards the cauldron set up a short distance away. “Perhaps I should have chosen a less complicated potion.”
His discouragement tugged on my heart. I yearned to explain that the problem wasn’t his abilities but that his failed potions had been the result of the follies of the frog he’d adopted battling romantic feelings for him, but embarrassment held the explanation back.
“You should trust the excitement and passion you felt when you chose this one,” I said. “Before deciding to give up, perhaps you can make one final attempt, this time without my help in case the problem isn’t your lack in ability but due to my shortcomings in assisting you.”
He seemed reluctant to try again, but in the end his determination proved stronger. I settled on a nearby log to wait as he ventured into the forest to procure the necessary ingredients, distance that did little to lessen my awareness of his presence; I obsessively followed his every footstep against the undergrowth, the rustle of the leaves as he foraged his ingredients, his adorable mutterings to himself.
He secured even more of my attention when he returned with an armful of plants and I no longer had to rely on my imagination. I found as much fascination and fondness in his every movement as he brewed the potion as I took in watching Corbin play or spending time with Mother as we worked. Without a potion to distract me, I was left at the mercy of the emotions that refused to be wrangled into submission, no matter how much I wrestled.
The time needed for him to create the potion wasn’t nearly enough for me to make much progress in bringing my feelings under control. Alden glanced at the pocket watch he’d been using to measure the brewing time. When the allotted amount had passed, he tentatively peeked into the cauldron, his shoulders stiff as he braced himself for another disappointment.
His tension relaxed. “I think I finally succeeded.” Hesitation filled the words, his lingering uncertainty before he tested the brew.
I hopped onto his shoulder to see for myself. Rather than the soft rosy hues and floral fumes of the love potion we’d created several times the day before, the potion was now the bubbly, fern-colored consistency illustrated in the A Potion to Heal All Ailments recipe.
I knew I should be happy for Alden having finally succeeded, but his doing so without my interference only confirmed what the spellbook had believed to be the cause of the error. Despite my own efforts to work through my emotions and my adamant denials they were love, I felt a wave of sadness that he possessed no romantic feelings for me in return that could have tainted the potion.
Of course he doesn’t love you—you’re a frog.
Ever since my transformation, I’d striven to suppress the discouragement brought by my cursed condition. Somehow it’d been easier to suppress in the face of my determination not to allow anything to hinder my efforts to help my brother than it was now midst my escalating heartache.
With a steadying breath I locked these unproductive feelings away. They didn’t go quietly, requiring much shoving and maneuvering before I succeeded…only to be too large for the lid containing them to shut properly, let alone lock.
I managed to quiet them enough to offer Alden a tight smile. “I knew you could do it.”
He grinned bashfully. “Your belief has given me more support than you know.”
While the sentiment wasn’t the love I secretly yearned for, his words still caused my heart to swell. Whether or not he felt for me what I was beginning to feel for him, in the end we were friends, a precious relationship worth cherishing regardless of whether his emotions ever deepened.
Alden bottled up a sample of the potion before using a bit of wind magic for his supplies to pack themselves up into his enchanted trunk while he went to work deciphering where the judging would take place. Once he’d obtained the coordinates through solving a magical cryptogram, he washed off the scents lingerings from the failed potions and created a portal that would take us to where the judges awaited us.
This time he had little trouble finding the concealed tent and entered confidently, his stride faltering slightly as he realized that this stage was not judged by a single enchanter but a full panel of four judges seated in a row on cushioned stools. His eyes flew to Enchantress Ivy’s, but she gazed at him impassively, as though she did not recognize him.
With Alden’s pattern of success, I fully expected this challenge to go as smoothly as the others…but rather than the approval he’d received for the elemental challenge, Enchantress Ivy frowned at the offered flask.
“A health potion, an area that…most don’t have much experience in at your stage of training. Not to mention you chose a rather ambitious potion to attempt, rather daring for such an important event.”
This wasn’t a promising beginning. Alden wrung his hands. “I thought now would be a good time to broaden my horizons, considering most of the magic I’ve been focusing on until this point have been spells that will be of little use in helping others.”
This earned nods of satisfaction from three of the judges. They murmured among themselves before Enchantress Ivy spoke. “Evidence of your growth as a wizard. Let’s determine the quality of your potion.” She examined the flask. “The color is good, but not quite the depth it should be when the ingredients are properly blended together.” She passed the vial to the next judge and each carefully examined the liquid through the clear glass.
Alden tensed, his sense of foreboding palpable—heavy enough to crush my own shoulders, as if my growing feelings connected me to him, allowing me to empathize with him in a deeper way than I had before.
Enchantress Ivy uncorked the flask and swirled the liquid experimentally before lifting the vial to smell the contents. Her nose wrinkled. “Not quite the scent a healing tonic is supposed to possess, but not too far off as to be unrecognizable. Now for the most important test.”
She extended her arm to the enchanter next to her. Nodding, the man withdrew a small dagger from his robe and with a swift motion, slashed across her exposed forearm. Alden lurched forward. “Enchantress Ivy! Why—”
“To test its effectiveness,” she said smoothly, seeming entirely unconcerned by the blood dripping against her pale skin in unsettling splotches. The other judges likewise watched calmly, their only emotion seeming to be curiosity about the potion’s effectiveness. Enchantress Ivy tipped the flask so that just enough liquid poured onto her wound and winced. “It stings a bit. Healing tonics are supposed to be soothing, so you’ll lose some points for that. However…”
She watched approvingly as her cut healed, not only sealing the wound but erasing every trace of blood. She lifted her forearm to better study it.
“Not even a scar. The true test would be how it fares against more serious ailments than a mere cut, but unfortunately we’re not at liberty to use a potion not created by a certified healer on someone suffering from such a serious condition [Oops, in one of the earlier chapters Alden told Mae that there are no trained healers. Should I clarify that affording them would be beyond her current means? Or is there another way to fix that plot hole…if it’s considered one?] . But that is unnecessary for our purposes; I’m familiar enough with healing spells to know it should work for most ailments, if not the most dire. Not bad for a first attempt.” She finally allowed herself a slight smile before adjusting her expression back to the emotionless mask the rest of the judges wore.
The man who’d cut her arm turned his gaze to Alden. “You brewed the potion well enough for it to prove effective.”
Despite the praise, apprehension twisted Alden’s expression as he shifted nervously. “But…not enough?”
Enchantress Ivy sighed. “Not quite enough. You clearly overstretched your abilities, an overexertion that would be best used for a potion that would be affordable for the populace if you’re sincere in using your magic to help others. You also cut several corners—I suspect you dried the kudzuarrowroot with fire magic rather than using natural sunlight, and didn’t properly drain out the extra moisture in the leaves of your other ingredients after they’d been soaked in the recent rain, which slightly altered their magical properties.”
Alden stiffened. “Did those errors make that much of a difference?”
The aged enchantress at the end of the row spoke for the first time. “Enough to make them discernible, and enough to compromise the quality. Surely you know better than to speed the magical process along, especially in a potion such as a healing tonic where mistakes would prove far more disastrous than they otherwise might in a less important brew. Why did you rush it? You had several days to complete a potion.”
“I just wanted…” He lowered his eyes and fell silent, but I sensed the words that remained unspoken: he’d placed greater emphasis on being one of the first to complete the task rather than taking the extra time necessary to ensure the quality of his potion. His carelessness had likely resulted from his fluster in his previous attempts repeatedly resulting in a love spell; in his excitement at having finally brewed the health tonic, he’d neglected to test it.
Enchantress Ivy knew him well enough understand his reasoning. “In magic, speed is of less importance than effective spells. You should know better.” Despite her rebuke, I could detect a note of gentleness in her voice.
His shoulders slumped. “I know…and I’ll pay for my negligence with my failure.” His expression was gaunt, his tone emotionless in his disbelief.
One of the enchanters cleared his throat, compelling Alden to look up. “Not necessarily. It all depends on where you stand after the other results come in. You are one of the first to complete this stage, so as of yet we cannot determine how you rank among the others.”
“Even if I rank higher than the others, do I really deserve to move forward with my mistakes?”
“No wielder of magic, no matter how advanced, is without mistakes,” Enchantress Ivy said. “Even with your errors, we are still able to measure your full worth as a wizard—you brewed an advanced potion that for the most part succeeded, a feat above many. The level of the potion counters some of the points your mistakes cost you, making it passable enough not to immediately disqualify you. It will all depend on the qualities of the potions we receive from the other contestants.” [I think some other contestants could be involved, but don’t have to be in great detail. Perhaps a competition could involve directly competing side by side in something? Mainly I think it’d help to see more of what Demetria is doing for her competitions.
Leftthis comment in as a reminder to brainstorm with you as I still can’t think of anything. ??]
Alden stood still a moment, as if processing these conflicting messages until the elderly enchantress waved her hand.
“You have several days until the next competition begins; you may return home or wherever you wish in the meantime. A message will reach you to let you know whether you will progress or not, but this is an excellent time to rest and to practice.”
Enchantress Ivy nodded. “Don’t give up yet.”
But by his expression, part of him already had. He left the judging tent in a daze, scarcely noticing the handful of other contestants who were arriving or waiting their turn to be judged.
My gaze remained riveted to Alden’s disheartened expression. I yearned to conjure up the words that would make him feel better, but the lingering uncertainty about his stance would only make them seem insincere, not to mention I doubted Alden wanted to converse with his frog in front of the other contestants.
Alden’s despondent posture suddenly stiffened as he caught sight of a wizard who had just stepped through a portal into the clearing. He took an involuntary step towards the man before swiveling around and rushing into the forest. I nearly slipped off his shoulder with the sudden motion. He stopped as soon as he was within the concealment of the trees.
I stared at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. I just didn’t want to be seen.”
“By Demetria?”
Alden’s expression twisted at the mention of his sister. “I didn’t sense her presence, but I did see another person who knows me too well to be fooled by my disguise. You remember my mentioning my friend, the one who knew of my plans to try for a position on the council?”
After a moment’s thought I recalled the day he’d tried to guess my identity and had briefly wondered if I was this wizard. “Is he here?”
Alden nodded, his face creased in puzzlement. “I can’t imagine why Kai would have entered the competition. He never indicated any interest, even when I told him of my intentions.”
“Are you going to speak to him?”
Indecision flickered in his eyes before he shook his head. “I can’t. He would doubtless recognize me through my disguise, and while I trust him, I can’t risk anyone else overhearing or guessing my identity by seeing us together. Or…” His eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. “It’s possible it’s not even him, but someone disguised as I am who has taken on his appearance.”
Stepping a little deeper into the forest, Alden made some calculations before opening a portal that led us back to the clearing where we had set up camp. He moved about restlessly, picking up books and bottles before setting them back down, followed by an equally restless spellbook.
At my questioning look he sighed and settled beside me. “I really should return to the palace while I have this break. It would be an excellent chance to catch up on my other responsibilities. Yet I fear I would be useless there while I’m so distracted and likely give myself away, so I’ve decided to stay here and study.”
He glanced without enthusiasm at the pile of books that normally consumed his interest but couldn’t occupy him while he awaited the news on whether or not he’d passed the potions challenge.
The next day was unbearably long. Alden dutifully pored over his books and spent a few hours practicing spells, but his focus was too weak to do well, leading to only more frustration.
By the following morning Alden looked positively ill, pale and gaunt after staying up most of the night with his books. He again spent the day practicing and studying, a desperate glint in his eyes.
As afternoon waned, I urged him to eat from the food I’d foraged and rest, knowing he’d need his energy if he did advance to the next round, but he couldn’t seem to relax. Though I ached to dispel the silence choking the air, I wasn’t sure what I could offer to lift his despondent spirits.
In the end, an apology seemed the best course. I hopped close to where he slumped cross-legged on the ground. “I’m sorry, this is likely my fault.”
He blinked, as if I’d tugged his thoughts from somewhere far away…likely in the depths of his perpetual sense of inadequacy. “Why do you assume that?”
“The love potions were the result of my assistance…leaving you flustered when you finally created the healing tonic.”
Alden sighed. “You heard all the mistakes I made with my potion. The fault lies with me. I’ve allowed my worries and insecurities to cause me to not only miss things around me, but block my current powers and capabilities. I need to maintain a clear head if I have any hopes of winning…assuming I get the chance to try again.”
Anxious to keep the gloom from settling over him, I searched for a topic to distract him. “Tell me about your friend that you saw at the judging.”
A slight smile crossed his face and I felt instantly encouraged. “I met Kai when I was quite young. He was just a little older than I was and we started our magical training together since he came from a prominent family that lived near the palace. Our poor tutor was tormented with our pranks as we learned new spells, but we formed a strong bond as we were tested and tried. The three of us—”
“Three?” I interrupted, inwardly chastising myself for my rudeness.
A shadow crossed Alden’s countenance. “Demetria studied with us, at least she did for a time. We all showed promise and were pushed hard to learn and progress. It was difficult, but Kai and I learned to embrace the challenge, realizing the potential we could have as powerful wizards. Demetria struggled more as our studies pushed our physical, mental, and emotional boundaries. She began to feel resentment towards our teachers for what she saw as needless cruelty, which led her to start cheating at her magical tasks—either by bribing older students to do her work or finding ways to fool the tutors into thinking she’d done it when she hadn’t.”
Alden sighed, shaking his head.
“The sad part is, she was more powerful than either Kai or I; she could have succeeded as we did with less effort. But it was more than she was willing to do. And as she pursued ways to avoid the hardest work, her interests veered towards forbidden magic.”
I saw his depression returning and hastened to change the subject. “Do you and Kai still work together sometimes?”
Alden nodded. “While we no longer spend our days side by side, we’ve had the opportunity to collaborate at times, and still keep in contact as often as possible. A wizard’s life can be rather lonely, never truly fitting in with the others and being expected to help in any troublesome situation. Adding that to the responsibilities of nobility makes it a life of pressure and expectations. It’s good to have a friend who understands. I do wish I could speak with Kai now, though I know it isn’t wise to reveal myself.”
The sun was now nearly out of sight behind the trees and Alden stood slowly, offering me a nod of thanks for the conversation.
He prepared a simple dinner, choking down a few bites before pushing the rest of his portion towards me. I continued to monitor him as he unrolled the bedroll he kept stored within his enchanted trunk.
Even amid my worry, I soon became distracted with the insistent humming of a nearby insect, an enhanced sound I’d gradually grown accustomed to as a frog that it’d become a harmonious line in the melodious background noise. Try as I might to pay attention to Alden, eventually the buzzing seduced my attention away; my gaze drifted to the nearby fly’s movements as it wove almost waltz-like through the air above a nearby clump of foliage.
Unbidden, my mouth began to water. I couldn’t help but obsessively follow its movement. Try as I might to pay attention to Alden’s steady stream of conversation, in this moment no topic he chose to discuss could prove as fascinating as this fly, drawing ever closer…closer…
Suddenly, my tongue involuntarily shot out to scoop the fly from the air and return with its prizes. With a shuddering gulp, I swallowed it.
Alden’s voice halted mid-comment of a conversation I hadn’t realized he’d begun as he prepared for bed. He blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just witnessed. “Did you just eat a fly?”
Mortification burned my cheeks, even as disgust coiled my tongue. “I’m a frog. It’s in my nature to eat flies.”
“True…but it was my understanding that you’re a transformed frog…meaning I just found the perfect fodder to tease you with for the remainder of his friendship.”
He doubled over in laughter, not even ceasing when my tongue darted towards one of the roasted chestnuts on his discarded plate and flung it at him. Not even the nut’s warm, buttery flavor was enough to dispel the lingering bitter aftertaste of the fly burning my taste buds.
Several hasty hops brought me to the refreshing reprieve of the water from nearby pond, whose murky taste was far preferable to what I’d just consumed. Even after I’d gulped down several mouthfuls, it did little to suppress my imagination that could still feel the fly darting around in my stomach, a sensation no where near as pleasant as the flutters Alden had caused me to feel of late.
When I returned to the crackling fire, Alden’s laughter had finally died down to soft chuckles. As much as I resented his finding humor at my expense, his laughter was warm and contagious, lighting up his eyes to dispel the stress that had been present of late. My stomach gave another shudder, far different than my horrific imaginings of a trapped fly.
Flustered, my throat swelled defensively. “I’m sure my trauma was infinitely amusing. Perhaps you should accidentally eat a fly and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “You should have seen the look on your face when you accidentally ate that. When I remember that you’re actually human…it’s truly horrifying to consider.”
After several deep breaths he eventually calmed down, but his good mood lingered for the remainder of the night, extra welcome after the tension that had consumed him of late…making me realize that I’d willingly eat as many flies needed, just to earn another of his smiles.
He finished preparing his makeshift bed. I nervously eyed the pillow, unsure I wanted to return to it after the ordeal his proximity had brought during the storm…while also wanting nothing more than to remain near him, especially when he was so distressed.
A soft golden butterfly suddenly appeared against the settling darkness, flying ever closer to land gently on Alden’s finger. I recognized that spell.
“A message from the palace,” Alden confirmed. “Likely from my parents ordering me to disregard the competition and return home, a summons I’ll be forced to obey if I fail to pass this challenge…”
He seemed reluctant to open it, but after a moment’s deliberation he caressed one of the butterfly’s glistening wings with a resigned sign; it transformed into a piece of parchment.
His brow furrowed as he read it. “Maeve…”
I hadn’t expected him to murmur my name. “Does the message concern your—” I broke off, remembering I shouldn’t have any reason to recognize the name.
He read through the message several times before he finally glanced up. “It’s about my apprentice. She’s apparently missing.”
This naturally wasn’t news to me, yet what puzzled me was who at the palace had discovered this and felt inclined to send Alden word during such an important event. No matter how I attempted to assemble the pieces, I remained confused.
“I don’t understand. How did the palace know your apprentice was missing?” I’d had little to no connection with anyone at the castle throughout the brief duration of my studies.
“Apparently a message from her mother came for her…only she wasn’t there to receive it.”
His words doused me in icy fear. Message…from Mother…Corbin! Fear swelled, so thick and suffocating I could scarcely breathe.
“A message? What did it say?”
But Alden had no answer for me. While I drowned in my whirl of worries over every horrible possibility of my brother’s condition, he sent his own enchanted message to check on his apprentice; yet no matter how long he waited, he received no response.
In that moment my reluctance to let Alden discover my identity vanished. Nothing mattered aside from helping Mother and Corbin, and it seemed likely that making myself known would be the most useful strategy. Hopefully Alden would help me once he realized who I was.
I took a couple of hops away from Alden so that the message would have a chance to fly from him to me rather than merely returning to the sender. As Alden prepared a second attempt, I settled myself and fixed my eyes on it, willing it to come to me and finally reveal the secret of who I was. But I suspected that whatever barrier the curse had erected to smother my powers and keep me from divulging my true identity also blocked the message’s tracking magic, preventing it from finding its intended recipient.
Curses were truly a bother.
Alden worried his lip. “I gave my apprentice a means to write me with any questions or concerns, yet even with her perpetual curiosity I haven’t heard from her the entire time I’ve been gone.”
“And you didn’t think to question why?” In my rising panic my tone came out harsher than I intended.
He shrugged helplessly. “She’s fiercely independent and I’ve been so consumed with the competition that I didn’t immediately notice she hadn’t contacted me. I’ll never forgive myself if in my negligence something happens to her.”
Nor would I should anything happen to my dear brother. I suddenly hated myself for leisurely waiting for Alden to earn a healing spell. Though my transformation into a frog had complicated matters, I should have found another means of returning home to help him rather than endure the longer road I’d chosen. If the delay had worsened Corbin’s condition…
I needed to go to him. Immediately. Yet as before, I had no means of doing so—no sense of direction, no magic, nor means of travel. If Alden knew I was his apprentice he’d easily be able to help me find a way to reach Corbin, or even give me a flask containing his healing tonic. Yet no amount of hopping about his ankles or frantic ribbiting allowed me to communicate my desperation; the more I struggled to think of words the curse would allow me to say, the more my throat seemed to seal off, closing off all human communication.
Worry furrowed Alden’s brow the longer he waited before he finally squared his shoulders. “I’m going to try to track her down myself. You stay here.” With a flick of his wrist, his books and potions floated into his magic trunk.
My frantic croaks intensified, only drawing his attention once he’d created his portal.
“I won’t be gone long, Mae, but this is important.”
With a reassuring pat on my head he stepped into the portal. I tried to hop in after him, but it vanished the moment it swallowed him up, causing me to fall helplessly on the other side.
With his absence, I had no distraction from my escalating worry weighing every restless hop about the clearing. Scarcely any time passed before I realized I couldn’t wait for Alden’s return. He would come bearing news that he’d discovered no trace of me at the castle, and likely wouldn’t even bother visiting my cottage, considering it’d been Mother’s message that had informed him of my absence.
Alone with only the spellbook for company, I had no distraction from the darkness twisting my thoughts. What could Mother have written me about? The waiting felt endless, each moment that trickled away one less spent at Corbin’s side where I belonged.
Suddenly I couldn’t sit still any longer. The spellbook immediately came after me as I left the clearing, but with the settling darkness and my small stature I easily evaded it in the underbrush. I waited for it to search for me in a different direction before I hopped from my hiding place to venture deeper into the forest, urged forward by my blinding anxiety.
It wasn’t long before I realized I had no idea where I was and had no way to return home or to the clearing I’d just left. My deepening panic settled over me, causing my fears to manifest and take on a life of their own in the all-encompassing darkness to muddle my senses and sense of direction.
I was lost…with no means of finding a way to my brother whose worsening condition I was helpless against while trapped in my current form.