Bella and the Bullfrog (Fumbled Fairy Tales #1)

Chapter 1

Bella raced across the tower’s uneven stone floor to her father’s cell and clasped his icy hands in her own. “Papa!”

“Bella! How did you get in here? Get out before that beast sees you!”

“Papa, you’re freezing.” Puffs of vapor floated out of their mouths in the crumbling tower. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“No. Go, before he finds you.” He coughed, a sound utterly horrifying to witness.

A looming shadow enshrouded them, and Bella turned to behold a behemoth blocking her exit to the stairs.

The beast’s giant taloned paw dashed out and wrapped around Bella’s throat, lifting her from the ground.

As her feet dangled, she wrapped her fingers between his nails and her skin to give herself breathing room.

“Put her down!” her father coughed.

“What is a beautiful thing like you doing here?” the beast growled, his voice so low and animalistic as to cause her hairs to stand on end.

“Please, let my father go.”

“Intruders must pay the price.”

“But he’s dying. Surely you can see that? Please, let him go.”

“Why should I? He shall only send more people here to interrupt my peace.”

“I won’t,” her father promised.

“I do not believe you,” the beast growled, the sound deadly and dangerous.

As another ongoing round of coughing wracked her father’s body, Bella pried one claw away from her throat. Desperation overtook her. “Take me,” she offered.

“You,” he scoffed, then set her down. “You?”

She gasped as his paw fully released her throat. “I will stay in his place.”

“Bella, no!” her father cried, but an enchanted key floated out of nowhere and turned in the lock.

The beast yanked her father out of the cell and spilled him to the ground, then lifted Bella by her shoulders to face him.

His eyes glowed red in the darkness as they scanned her body.

“I will come back to deal with you later.”

She was thrown onto the pile of straw in the very cell her father had just occupied as the door slammed shut behind her. She spun and reached her hand through the bars. “Papa! Wait!”

But they were already gone.

“Please let me out,” Bella called an hour later, but no one replied, though she had hoped the enchanted items she had met were still lingering somewhere on the stairwell.

She shook the bars on her tower door, but despite being old and rusty, they held fast. She banged her fist twice more, hoping the talking broomstick and pair of manacles that brought up a crust of bread for her were still within earshot.

“I’d already agreed to stay. You don’t have to imprison me. ”

Silence.

She gusted out her breath and slid down the door.

Under the wan wintery light fanning in from the tiny window, Bella made out a rickety chair missing a back leg and the pile of straw that rustled on its own.

She hoped it was mice and not rats. Anything but rats.

With nothing to do and chilly darkness descending, Bella picked up the chair and set it against the wall for support.

If she balanced just right, she might be able to keep her feet and skirts off the ground and remain unmolested by whatever furry vermin stirred in the chamber.

In a lifetime of questionable decisions, this was by far her worst.

“Oh, Papa, I hope you can forgive me for my impulsiveness.” Not that he could hear her. If that looming beast of a creature downstairs were to be believed, her father was on his way home to their quaint provincial village in exchange for Bella remaining in his stead.

She sighed. Home. Where three men of questionable character and dubious hygiene kept vying for her hand in marriage.

She knew she would have to choose one of them eventually, but Bella kept putting it off, much to her father’s dismay.

Yes, of course Papa stated he worried about who would care for her when he was gone, but Bella wasn’t ready for that step.

She wanted to accomplish something significant in her life—adventure or employment or, best option, start a school where anyone could learn—before she was forced into a wifely role.

Being imprisoned by a beast in an enchanted castle, however, was not on that list.

The hay rustled some more, and Bella stomped a foot at it in her irritation, hoping to scare the creature away. Instead, something small glittered as it emerged from the mound.

Intrigued, Bella leaned forward. Assuming it to also be enchanted, she said, “Hello. Who are you?”

The item tipped forward in what Bella thought might have been a bow or curtsey. “I am Mrs. Loomis. I was a seamstress here, my lady, before... well, before.”

It was a needle. In a haystack. In a prison tower. “I’m no lady. Just a prisoner, like you.” Except... a needle might be just the godsend she needed to tumble the lock open.

“Oh, I’m no prisoner. A magpie found me a moment ago and dropped me into that window when I yelled. Scared the feathers straight off it, I did.”

A reluctant smile broke upon Bella’s lips.

“I’ve no doubt.” She adjusted her skirts and leaned toward the tiny shard, shocked at how easily she’d adjusted to speaking with enchanted items today.

If one were to bend a magical item, would it still hold its enchantment?

Or would fashioning Mrs. Loomis into a lockpick be the end of her?

Best to err on the side of mortal caution.

“Small as you are, think you could wiggle into the keyhole and unlock my door? Or hasten down the stairs to see about setting me free?”

“Oh, no, my lady. The master would have my head.”

“Master? You mean, that beast is your master? Was he once human?” He wore pants with a slit to accommodate his plush tail, and something golden like a pendant had glistened in the tawny fur covering his chest, so in this cursed castle, it made sense.

But why keep her prisoner? And why had all three enchanted items insisted on calling her “my lady,” despite her numerous corrections to the contrary?

If a pin could flush white with fear, this one did. “I... must go. Good day, my lady.” And before Bella could snatch her into her grip, the needle dove under the crack in the door and disappeared.

“No, please!” She listened for any reply, but the needle made hardly any noise as it flung itself down the dark, curving stairs.

Alone. Bella removed her arms from her coat sleeves, drew her knees to her chest, and spread her opened coat over herself for warmth, tucking it right up to her ears.

She then rested her chin on her knees and hugged herself tight.

She was hungry, tired, uncomfortable, and sickened over her unfair imprisonment.

Hers and her father’s. What had Papa done more than seek shelter when their horse got attacked?

Bella saw the wolf tracks in the frost and knew why Papa had come here; she just didn’t understand that beast’s utter refusal to treat her and Papa as guests.

Bella needed something she could use to break free.

The chair would not work. Ditto for the straw.

She had nothing to work with in this chamber, though daylight might bring fresh hope.

Maybe with a sharp stone she could carve a key from a slat in her chair?

She had just closed her eyes to envision her escape when the tower began to shake violently.

The rickety chair dumped her to the floor, and Bella flung out her hands to break her fall.

But she kept falling.

And falling. She screamed, and when that scream ended, she took another breath, ready to scream again. Should she scream again? Where was she? Would this fall ever end?

The breath raced from her lungs as she squeezed through colorful clouds and never-ending rainbows. Stars, moons, oceans, trees... all a blur. She forced air into her lungs and logic into her brain. No fall lasted forever.

This one, however, came quite close.

After long minutes of tumbling, Bella landed softly but awkwardly on her hands and knees in the middle of someone’s home.

Bright morning light spilled in from the high windows, and the smell of spring flowers filled the air, as well as cheerful birdsong she did not recognize.

She stood and looked around, enjoying the warmth that she rubbed into her chilled skin.

Where was she? This was not her country; her village currently prepped for the upcoming winter. Another bird made a call that was alien to her. No, not just the bird. This entire place was alien to her.

“Exactly how far did I fall?” she breathed. Or was this a dream? Or magic? Or had that beast returned and banged in her skull, and this was what the afterlife looked like? She pinched her arm; it hurt, so she was not dreaming. Or dead.

At least the landing felt like a matter of inches and not leagues. She stood and shook out her skirts, her nose catching the scent of baked items burning.

“Hello? Papa?” she called. “Is anyone here?”

Nothing.

Bella headed toward the oven and grabbed a mitt to remove the pastries that had just overshot their cooking time. She set them on the stove top and saw a kettle also on the flame. She moved that to a cool burner when she noticed the steam piping from the top.

“Is anyone home? Your food was burning.”

She removed the mitt, concerned that some ill tidings had befallen the home’s occupant and worrying over what may have happened to her father.

This home was spacious, round, well-appointed with items that indicated opulence without excessive access to wealth.

She peeked for anyone hiding behind the settee and chair, then saw a wide staircase that followed the curve of the room.

She called out again and headed upstairs.

The first bedroom at the top was filled with mirrors. Cheval, wall, and handheld versions were everywhere.

“Odd,” she whispered into the vacant space, then moved to the second one.

This one was clearly from a youth, as the walls were painted, the occupant’s age showing by the complexity of the artwork the higher up the walls one looked. Three pillows with giant felt letters lined the bed. Bella frowned, pushed them together, and read the syllables.

“Ra-pun-zel? What does that mean?” She studied the painted walls, marveling that every square inch was filled with creativity.

“This whole situation is strange.” She headed back downstairs and thought to check outside, as maybe the homeowner was working in the barn, or wandering afield, but she could find no doorway out of this place.

“What manner of nonsense is this?” She chose a point at the bottom of the stairs and pressed on the wall around the room’s entire circumference before realization set in.

She flung open the lowest window shutters and confirmed her suspicions. “I’m trapped in another tower.”

The ground was thirty, forty feet below.

If adventure was what Bella wanted, then adventure was what she would have.

“I’m not an inventor’s daughter for nothing,” she said to no one. “But I’m also practical. And problem solving is best done on a full stomach.” She steeped some tea, ate all six brown-bottom pastries, then set about finding the best way out of that place.