Chapter 5 #3
“Shh,” said Louis. And then Henry couldn’t speak and was limited to glaring and waiting for the death blow. Now that he’d lost Stefano, he didn’t mind dying, but he wished he’d been able to cause Louis pain first.
Louis stared down at him in very much the same way that Stefano peered at interesting insects.
“When my father brought you here, I doubt he anticipated that you would love Stefano. Certainly not that you would love him so well. I want you to know that neither I nor anyone else used magic to achieve that. Your feelings for my brother—and his for you—are entirely natural.”
It had crossed Henry’s mind, now and then, that enchantments had possibly been involved. He’d never discussed the matter with Stefano. Honestly, Henry wouldn’t have cared if a spell had been responsible, because whatever the cause, his love was genuine.
Louis walked away, and before Henry could wonder what he was up to, he returned.
His hands were positioned as if cupped around something.
Another deadly gesture, no doubt. Then he lifted the upper hand and revealed…
a frog. It was a bit larger than most of those that lived in the pond, with bright green skin and bulging eyes.
“You must pay careful attention to what I say.” It was unclear whether Louis was addressing the frog or Henry. Paralyzed and helpless, Henry had no choice but to listen.
“The first thing you must understand is that love can be an enormous weakness. You’ve experienced this already: Cyrus has exploited Stefano’s affection for you and used it as a way to control his potentially wayward son.
Love can prompt an unarmed man to attempt an attack on a prince who is also a wizard.
And sometimes, grief for a lost love can be fatal. ”
Why was Louis torturing him like this? Usually he spoke very little, and here he was with speeches and false sympathy, prolonging the inevitable. Let him get on with the killing!
“I will place iron bands around your heart, Henry, to keep it from breaking. You have been my brother’s loyal friend and you deserve that small mercy.”
Of course Henry couldn’t ask what in all hells he was talking about.
All he could do was watch as Louis lifted the hand holding the frog higher, causing his sleeve to fall back and reveal a trio of narrow metal bracelets around his wrist. Eyes closed, he stroked the bands with two fingers. They disappeared.
A sharp agony engulfed Henry. It felt as if his chest had been impaled by a giant shard of ice. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, couldn’t even open his mouth to gasp.
The pain departed as quickly as it had arrived. Still lying twisted on the ground, still shocked at Stefano’s death and awaiting his own, Henry felt oddly calm. He found himself wondering whether there was an afterlife, and if so, whether Stefano awaited him. That was a pleasant possibility.
Louis crouched down and spoke softly. “The second thing you must understand is that Stefano is not dead. You see, I love him too.” He used the tip of one finger to pat the frog’s head.
It blinked its eyes, which were eerily like Stefano’s warm gray instead of the usual yellow. Then it gave a small croak and hopped off his hand. A moment later Henry heard a splash as the frog leapt into the pond.
* * *
“You should leave now,” said Louis.
Henry stood beside him, gazing over the surface of the pond. Stefano was presumably in there somewhere, either swimming around or sitting on a lily pad. Perhaps he was one of the several frogs currently singing from atop a partially submerged log at the water’s edge.
“Leave?” Henry hadn’t been thinking about what would happen next. The leg he had twisted was slightly sore, but the sun felt nice on his shoulders. He felt oddly detached from the world, detached even from himself.
“The king and Prince Philip will assume he’s been murdered or has fled,” said Louis. “Either way, they’ll blame you—for killing him, for letting someone else kill him, for allowing him to slip away.”
Henry considered his options. “What if I tell them you transformed Stefano into a frog?”
“I’ll deny it. But they’ll have your head even if they believe you.”
That was undoubtedly true. “But Stefano—”
“Will live out his life where he truly wanted to be. Lounging about in the muck.” Louis gestured toward the pond.
“I hope you realize I’m trying to spare you—just as I’m trying to spare him.
You don’t deserve any of what my family has done to you.
Take some small valuables from his chambers—I’m sure he must have jewelry or the like. Leave the kingdom.”
In fact, Stefano did own quite a bit of jewelry.
Most of the items had been left to him by his mother, who died when he was a toddler.
He rarely wore it in public, but on occasion Stefano and Henry would lounge around their chambers wearing nothing but the precious rings and necklaces.
Henry knew that even a small part of Stefano’s collection would be plenty to establish a home for himself somewhere over the border.
But no. What if Stefano was injured or grew ill?
What if a bird or a snake ate him? Henry frowned at those possibilities.
His profound love for Stefano was gone—no, not gone.
Faded and shriveled. Yet he still cared about his prince and still had a sense of responsibility toward him. “I won’t abandon him.”
Louis turned to give him a close look. “Three iron bands were not sufficient, it seems. Interesting. But you can’t remain at the palace if you want to live.”
“Then I’ll take him with me.” Surely Henry could find a home where they’d both be safe and content.
He concentrated, trying to remember the details of geography lessons that hadn’t seemed important at the time.
The sea was to the east, jagged mountains and dry plains to the north—none of that suitable for a frog.
Fraysia was across the southern border and would likely soon be annexed in its entirety.
All right, the west, then. He had a vague recollection of lakes in that direction.
He wished he’d paid more attention to those lessons.
Lessons. An image flashed into Henry’s mind of the room where those lessons had been held: a compact space adjacent to the palace library, sparsely furnished with a few tables and uncomfortable chairs.
The windows were placed too high to look out of, and the only decorations had been some dusty paintings of a few of Stefano’s ancestors.
In this particular memory, Henry sat close beside Stefano at one desk—all the better to poke him if his attention wandered—while Louis sat at the other with an expression of sharp interest. All three of them were listening to their instructor for the day, the court physician.
“You must not act rashly,” she was saying. “Use careful observation to determine the cause. All injuries have the proper treatment, all illnesses have the proper cure, all poisons have the proper antidote, all curses have the proper countermeasure.”
The memory faded, but not the knowledge it had brought. Henry gave Louis a steady look. “What is the countermeasure?”
He didn’t think Louis would answer. For a minute or two, neither of them said anything, although the frogs continued their song.
“A kiss,” Louis finally said.
“All right, then. I’ll kiss every frog in the pond until I find—”
“Not from you. From the Fraysian princess.” Louis looked slightly smug.
Instead of feeling newly enraged, Henry was merely annoyed, which was disappointing. Hot anger would have felt better, more genuine than his current numbness. Still, he was tempted to at least make a bitter retort.
But by this point Louis had spun on his heel and marched away. A few moments later he disappeared through one of the never-used doors in the garden wall.