Chapter 13
‘Twas not the prettiest of castles, nor the most fortified, but Riven was proud of how it was evolving, and by using no magic from the pond whatsoever. For a first attempt at creating anything, Riven was amazed at how much he had accomplished in but a few hours. After how sick he’d gotten from requesting the magical sugar cubes, Riven was afraid to ask for anything that was not already buried in the muck.
Therefore, when he envisioned spikes around the pond’s edge for protection, he’d dug around and pulled up hundreds of pieces of pottery shards.
One by one he dragged the bits of waste from the muck and wedged them into place, pointing outward, like a spiked fence of yore.
A warped wagon wheel became the foundation of his castle, which he managed to float to the surface with wineskins filled with air and sealed with sludge.
An old rope tethered it in place to a giant rock in the middle of the pond.
Once that was situated, Riven began building the castle walls, intermixing bits of torn leather and wool scraps with branches and lightweight refuse.
‘Twas definitely not the prettiest of castles.
Yet, ‘twas tall enough to be seen from afar, and clearly not natural to the pond, which he hoped would be enough to draw attention to his plight.
He leapt from the rim of the wagon wheel, intending to reach his makeshift throne at the top, but his thrust made the castle pitch. He overshot his chair and landed with a plop in the water clear on the other side of it.
“This will take some getting used to,” he muttered as he climbed back up on the wheel rim. His leap would make the castle pitch toward him, so he tried again, planning his leap a foot closer than the chair actually was.
It worked.
Sort of.
The chair crashed into his body, knocking the wind right out of him, but at least he was atop his throne now.
A heron flew overhead, eyeing him as a tasty snack. Riven felt a measure of froglike instinct take over, and he leaped neatly from the throne into the water near the base of his floating castle. He kicked straight to the bottom, waiting until he deemed himself safe.
He would need protection from predators. All kinds of predators. As he wracked his brain to decide what might deter birds, something shiny peeked out from the muck. He swam to it and saw it was a necklace made of mirrors. Some were cracked, but for him, it was perfect.
Frog lips could not smile, but happiness filled him as he hauled his prize to the surface, emerging from within the circumference of his castle base.
He hopped carefully from one layer to the next, dragging and gathering the length of necklace beside him as he went.
He reached his throne and placed the necklace in an ever-widening circle around his seat until he had an entire floor that sparkled brilliantly.
As an afterthought, he angled some outward so that passersby might be drawn to the shine and therefore alerted to his presence.
He knew that birds would not trust a mirror’s glare, thereby effectively shielding him.
He waited to test his theory and watched a broad wing, likely used by the falconer in his very castle, tip abruptly midair and shy away.
He was safe.
Still, ‘twould be best to ensure he had multiple escape routes, from birds, animals, and humans, so Riven dragged long strands of algae from the pond bottom and made a few slides from his throne that would deliver him directly into the water.
In the middle of his castle, he created a small room where the outer walls were lined with sharp stones, bones and pottery shards in case an animal tried to seize him.
Atop that, an old rusty bowl sufficed as his treasury, where Riven filled it with coins, gems, jewels, and anything else he could envision being stuck in the muck.
Finally, he asked the pond to provide a frog-sized, non-magical lightweight sword and spear in case he needed to protect himself in a human manner.
Once he held them in his wee hands, Riven realized he needed one final request.
A wee crown for his wee head.
Moments later, he collected it and placed it atop his head. It was not the most comfortable thing he’d ever worn, but crowns never were. He set it aside for later and went back to work.
Most of the day had passed by the time Riven decided his castle was complete.
Sure, it could use a layer of mud for aesthetics, some furniture, and something delightfully soft and warm to sleep on, but he was a small frog in a large pond and could only do so much.
His belly rumbled fiercely, and Riven had no choice but to stop long enough to find something slimy and leggy to eat.
He slipped into the reeds at the water’s edge where he had deliberately left a gap in the pottery shards and dug into the mud for worms.
If he ever turned back into a human, he would never eat eels again. Or frogs. Likely not even fish, at this rate. Living in this tiny body gave him a new perspective on what he consumed and how vulnerable animals were to other hunters.
Another condemning thought slammed into him: What if the frogs he’d eaten before had been enchanted humans like himself? How would he know?
As he slurped down his wiggling meal, the ground vibrated with hooves. He slipped back into the reeds, through the small gap in his protective fence, and swam hard for his castle. He had just donned his crown and gained his seat atop his throne when a woman approached on horseback.
“Oh, my.”
He waited while her eyes traveled over his hard work until they reached the top, where he sat, regarding her as regally as any frog prince could possibly manage.
She slid off her horse and inched closer to the water’s edge. “What a marvel to behold,” she whispered. Then, louder, “I cannot believe I am about to say this, but are you His Royal Highness, Prince Riven?”
“I am,” he said, wondering how she knew, and if she was a threat.
“Oh!” She crossed herself, gasped like she’d realized how rude that seemed, then dropped into a lovely curtsey. “Your Royal Highness, I was sent by Bella Straus to check on you.” Her eyes and mouth were wide with wonder.
He snapped to attention. “How is she? Has she left for home yet?”
“She came to say goodbye.”
He watched her eyes swim and knew this woman was as sad to see Bella go as he was.
“You must be the seamstress. Bella said she was quite fond of you.”
“As I am of her. She is a wonderful woman.”
They spent a moment sitting with their loss before Riven asked, “Did Bella have any messages for me?”
“Actually, Sir, she told me she went to speak with your parents. She felt they would not listen to her good council.”
“She did?” What a remarkable woman, facing down his parents!
“Yes, Sir. And now that I see her story is true, I must ask what I can do to help you?”
He studied her, his thoughts swirling. “Might I have your name?”
“Henriette Leboux, Your Royal Highness.”
“Henriette, I need my manservant. His name is Philippe . He can usually be found spending his coin at the Pig and Thorn. See that lone flower on the far shore?”
She looked where he pointed. “The white one?”
“Yes. Bring Philippe to me, and you shall find a coin under those petals for your effort.”
“Your Highness is too kind.”
He regarded her. “I fear I am in a most desperate situation. I am still the prince, yet I am confined here by the constraints of this spell and therefore unable to perform any of my princely duties, let alone rectify the condition of this pond.”
The woman nodded. “I shall go in the morning, as I have no escort into the pub at this time of day.”
“Do not endanger yourself for me,” Riven agreed. “Another day alone shall not harm me, though I am bored beyond measure.”
Henriette’s eyes grew wide, and her face paled as she looked at something behind Riven.
“Your Highness, I must leave. Good day to you both.” She bolted for her horse as Riven turned to look behind him.
The worm he’d swallowed twisted in his gut. His body grew colder than expected as he croaked out, “Enchantress. How lovely to see you again.”