Chapter 6 #2
He looked away. “Goddess preserve all men from such fates.”
“What of you?” she asked. “Is there a wife with tadpoles that will soon be seeking you?” She giggled, her eyes sparkling at her tease.
Would his parents look for him? Would they even care that he undertook this punishment to protect the entire castle? “I am unattached, yet I fear my parents may not expend much effort in the seeking of me.”
“Are you such a wastrel as that?” she asked, eyes twinkling.
The word wastrel struck a chord in him, but Bella clearly only teased. “I... do not think myself so.”
“What is your industry, may I ask?”
Riven looked away. “I fear I have none to claim.”
“Ah,” she smiled, her eyes merry. “A wastrel indeed. Gambler? Imbiber of spirits? Gluttonous land baron? Cutpurse? Horsethief? Am I close?”
Her merriment at teasing him lightened his heart’s burden. “Minstrel by choice, since you must know, to my family’s everlasting chagrin. Wastrel enough for your tastes?”
She smiled, angling her hand to shade the sun from her eyes. “Am I to assume your father wishes you to follow in his footsteps, yet you desire to blaze your own musical trail?”
“Clever indeed,” he acknowledged, making her beam.
“Thank you for that,” she said. “Pray tell, what would you do, given a lack of boundaries and expectations and all the world’s coin to do it?”
He stared at her with full appreciation for the question, for no woman had ever asked after his desires before. “I think I should like to build a university where all could study, including the arts, like music and poetry.”
Her head whipped to his. “Where all men can study, you mean.”
His throat made a wum sound. “Think you women would enjoy education?”
Her jaw set. “I do. They would need, however, primary education before university. My parents both taught me to read, write, and learn my figures, but I am the exception.” Her face clouded.
“Why does that make you appear so angry?”
Bella gusted out her breath and looked down to hold his eyes for a moment. “I am one of the few young ladies in town who both is capable of and enjoys reading. Such a pastime garners me few friends, as neither boys nor girls can relate to my love of stories.”
“I enjoy them tremendously, but I call them songs.”
Her laugh a moment later was musical, lightening his heart even more. “Do you, now?”
“Actually, it would seem my parents would prefer I spend my day with novels instead of... following in my father’s footsteps, as you said.”
She grinned at him. “What types of novels?”
“The Repercussions of Taxing Church Mice,” he rattled off, citing a fake title and making her laugh out loud.
“Oh, Albert, you are too funny. I value education ever so much and honestly wish it for others. Now, tell me truly, what do you enjoy reading?”
He eyed her, wondering if he should be so bold as to share. “Truth be told, I read poetry to see if I can create melodies to accompany them.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. I do so enjoy strumming the mandolin and singing.”
“That must be amazing, to hear such lovely tunes in one’s head. I do admit, sometimes I read books and then create new endings if I am unamused by the printed version. Sometimes, I even rewrite their interactions to create more drama if I feel their words fall flat.”
“Clever people enjoy clever conversation, so I understand why you would do this.”
“Doth mine ears mishear, or did you just call me clever?” She raised a brow at him, her eyes dancing with joy.
“I did. And you are a very good conversationalist, if you must know.”
The look she sent him warmed him straight through. Were he human in this moment, he would gather her in his arms and kiss her until they both forgot their names.
She added, “Did I mention I have clever ideas, as well? No? Well, mayhap you can still lay claim to a creation, even in this form. You are yet in full possession of your brain... and your hands, though small, work fine.”
Rather than discuss the limitations of his diminutive status, Riven tried clearing his throat, though all that came out was a few wum wum sounds. “Bella, give me two days. If we cannot determine a way to break this curse, I will ensure you are well on your way home.”
A bit of worry crossed her visage, but she nodded. “Agreed.”
They were now quite a few blocks into his village.
In fact, they were all the way to the pub where Riven first met Jack, the man who played the tin whistle in their band.
The scent of pastries carried to him from Pierre’s shop across the street, and Riven’s amphibious stomach rumbled in memory of the sweet apple tarts.
Alas, the baker would not be able to make change from the coin in Bella’s pocket.
Though his companion knew not its worth, Riven did.
A prince’s weekly wages she carried in that coin, and he did not want her to get swindled or cheated.
“How long have you been a frog?”
Torn from his musing, he blinked at her. “Half a day at most. The longest of my life.”
“Interesting morning we both have had.” She regarded his froggy form. “Have you considered ways to break the curse?”
“I have not had time to do so.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Then I must deliver you immediately back to your pond. Clearly, I am a distraction.”
His throat made the wum sound again. “The absolute best of distractions. I would be wallowing in sorrow had you not appeared.”
“No,” she clarified. “You would be wallowing in mud.” She laughed at her own jest.
And for the first time that day, Riven felt enchanted.
––––––––
AFTER A FEW MOMENTS of travel, Bella asked, “Where should we go first?”
He considered his answer. “Are you comfortable around well-mannered horses?”
“All horses, yes. We have a lovely plow horse at home. Her name is Mathilda, and she is wonderfully versatile.”
“The same one who tossed your father?”
She eyed him. “I found paw and claw marks in the frost where there was clearly a scuffle. It was most likely a wolf attack, so I place no blame on her withers.”
Riven would smile if he could. “Your father was lucky to have escaped them.”
“The castle was quite close when it happened. I understand why he sought shelter there.”
Her comfort and confidence in horses would work with his plan. “Keep on this street until you reach the inn. Then, go inside and ask for Enzo. Give him the coin and tell him you were sent to return Nocturne to his barn.”
“Nocturne is a horse?”
“Yes. I know he was stabled there while I was in the bar. He is all black, devoid of markings, so he will not stand out. You will walk him, not ride him.”
“You know this horse?” She eyed him. “Oh. He is your horse, is he not?”
Although Riven had no interest in telling her the truth, his throat let out a giant croak.
“Hm.” Bella looked straight ahead. “So now I’m to become a wastrel horse thief like you?”
He smirked at her tease. “Horse delivery girl. You will need him. Esch-Sur-S?re is a long way from here.”
“You’re familiar with the town I’m from?”
He shook his head. “Luxembourg is weeks away by horseback, months by foot. Consider this my contribution to our quest. Now, Enzo is to give you four shillings as change, and he may keep the remainder of the coin. Tell him you are instructed to have a fine meal and drink for your efforts.”
Bella took a deep breath. “Four shillings, whatever they are. I shall do as you bid.”
Riven gave her a careful description of shillings so she would not be swindled.
They came to the inn, and Bella relayed her message to Enzo. While the barkeep clearly did not believe her, the coin and its promise was enough to silence his doubts. Bella enjoyed a giant bowl of stew and honeyed mead, sneaking bits of her meal down to Riven when no eyes were on her.
From his position on the floor, Riven was able to hear everything... including the disparaging remarks made about himself:
He was not serious enough to inherit the kingdom.
Too bad the queen had not birthed a second, more responsible son.
He should be devoting his time to wooing a suitable maiden, not playing music.
The half-wit likely forgot he was scheduled to play today. All that ale yesterday....
Mayhap the enchantress who visited stole him away. Or did he woo her truly?
And then, there were the more generous comments from the women’s table:
Would that the prince were already their liege, as the day’s work would be merrier.
Aye! A carefree soul as the prince would likely forget to collect taxes!
An absent liege would be far better than the cruel one they had, for certain.
How drunk would the prince need to be to woo a lowly maid?
A fair face and finer dancer proved the price would be a great lover—should I ask the herbalist for a love potion?
Any prince that fine of feature was welcome to woo her.
He ducked low into his wineskin when he saw the last two ladies who wished his attention. The swineherd’s daughters’ fetid stench overwhelmed his own slimy pondwater. He glanced up at Bella, appreciating the tasty but salty morsels she continued to deliver to him from her own bowl.
A feeling of hopelessness swept over him.
He knew as the prince that his actions would be scrutinized, but he truly thought he brought more joy than anguish to his people.
Hearing these comments firsthand made him realize he, too, was being judged by the state of his visage and rank and not seen as the person he was.
‘Twas the first time he truly understood what Bella had meant, for ‘twas also the first time someone had walked fully in his own shoes.
And the way she saw Riven a person—despite his appearance—and not a prince to be charmed was energizing.
Bella had no idea who he was. Her kindness had no ulterior motive, meaning she was naturally a generous person, which he truly admired.
Were he human, he would tell her as much, for this was a woman he would like to take to wife.
Of all the blasted timing of this stupid curse!
The realization he desired her was met with another delivered morsel of food from her kind hand.
He swallowed the bit of meat and felt his stomach twist. Though the venison tasted fine, the stew suddenly made Riven gag.
Nothing in the bowl sat right with him. Was their trial trip into town a waste?
Would carrying the pondwater with them not circumvent the curse?
As he pondered these questions, a cockroach scooted past Bella’s foot.
Without thought, Riven’s tongue flicked out and snatched the bug, and he then swallowed it in one gulp.
It was exactly what his stomach needed.
So why did Riven want to vomit at what he’d done?