Chapter 15
Brumenhildr seemed even less thrilled to see him than the moment she punished him, Riven thought, but he still did his best to bow before her in a welcoming manner.
“I see you have taken your punishment well by building yourself a fine castle.”
He detested sarcasm. “You cursed me to save as many lives as have been lost, yet no one from the castle knows I am here, as I am sure you intended as part of my punishment. I had to create something to alert the townsfolk that I am no regular frog, otherwise, how will I draw them to me? Once word spreads that Prince Riven is here, I shall be able to make change.”
Her eyes turned to the color of disgust, and an unknowable wind lifted her hair to float about her head in a condemning manner. “Must I add a time limit to your punishment? Will that help you take this seriously?”
“No!” He flung-out his wee hands. “People think I’m away wooing you, so no one is looking for me. One sole woman did venture here, and I hired her to locate my manservant and bring him to me. Once Philippe is here, I can order men to start the cleaning process.”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
For once, Riven was ready for this, thanks to some idle time and idle strumming. “I shall have a team of horses hitched to a fisherman’s net, which shall be tossed into the pond. They will haul out whatever I put in it. It will take many weeks, but it will be a good start.”
“And the poison from the dyes?”
He studied her, having also thought about that issue. “I shall hire alchemists to help me undo the damage.”
Her hair stilled. “What of the fish? The frogs? The birds and other wildlife?”
Riven thought for a second. “Well, fresh fish can be netted and barreled to be brought in from other ponds. Tadpoles can be brought in by buckets. Once those are established, other wildlife shall follow. I can even have a flock of ducks or geese tended here, if you wish.”
She considered him for a moment. “I give you seven days to make true headway on your plans. Otherwise, if I am not impressed when I return, you will have no more worries.”
He eyed her, unsure of her meaning. “I won’t?”
“No.” Her eyes flashed the color of retribution. “Because true frogs are incapable of foreseeing their demise.”
––––––––
SHE VANISHED IN A VILE green puff of smoke, and Riven let out a string of obscenities when she was gone that surprised even him.
“Phillippe!” he yelled, but his amphibious voice did not carry well.
There was no way he could make any headway without human help, and none seemed forthcoming.
In a moment of desperation, Riven dove and swam to the nearest shore and yanked on the first item he found—an old boot.
He kicked with all his might and managed to drag it onto the crusty sand.
A handkerchief followed, then half an ale bottle.
He struggled with each item, his thin legs not designed for such hard labor.
He had created a small pile of the refuse when hoofbeats rippled the water.
He looked over and saw Phillippe and another man heading for the pond.
Quickly, Riven dove into the water and kicked his way to his castle.
With a practiced leap, he gained the top tier and scrambled into his tiny throne, donning his crown as he sat.
Phillippe scanned the wayward castle before meeting Riven’s eyes.
He meant to welcome him, truly, but the frustration of the last few hours crescendoed. “Where have you been?” Riven demanded.
His mouth dropped open with shock. “Your Royal Highness?”
Riven gave one sharp nod. “Answer the question.”
Phillippe slid off his horse and knelt, and the other man did the same. Then Phillippe’s gaze turned to the new man. “I was with Salva, fixing the plow,” he said, his eyes unsure if he truly conversed with a frog.
“I have received no word that you even searched for me, though I have been missing for days. What say you to these charges?”
“I... I am truly sorry, Your Royal Highness. I was suffering from too much ale the other morn. When I came to assist you, I was told you were off wooing an un-woo-able enchantress. How... how did this happen? You are Prince Riven, are you not? This is no jest?”
“This is no jest. I am your prince. I was not off wooing Brumenhildr; she brought me here to punish me for this mess, and I call upon you and your vows of service to help me.”
Phillippe stood tall, ready for action. “Of course, Sir. Anything. What do you wish of me?”
“I need you to bring a team of horses here, and a large net. A large one like on seaworthy fishing vessels. I will also need men. Dozens of them. And carts. Lots of carts for hauling. And I need them all today. Can you do this?”
“Absolutely, Sir. I shall not let you down.”
“Then go. Let the wind lift your feet.”
“Aye, Sir.” He leapt upon his horse’s back, and the two of them raced for the castle.
Riven watched them go for a moment, then resumed collecting garbage from the muck. It was hard work and physically taxing on his tiny frame. Frogs were simply not built for this type of labor.
A rusty pitchfork speared out of the mud, and try as he might, Riven could not wrest it free of the pond’s grip.
He was in need of air, yet almost too tired to surface for it.
He was a wastrel, just as his mother claimed.
He had nothing to offer anyone. Bella was gone, hopefully safely at home, where one of her numerous suitors would win her heart and give her the life he never could.
Frogs did not marry.
Frogs could not bear human children.
Riven missed Bella tremendously.
She was everything he had ever hoped to find, everything he ever wanted in a woman.
But he was a frog. A frog who would be dead within a week.
He would not drag her into his quagmire and ruin her chance of happiness.
The thought did not reassure him.
Riven kicked his way upward, feeling the weight of failure crushing in on him as he surfaced and took a deep breath.
With or without the net, men, horses and carts, there was no way Riven would be able to fix this mess.
It would be better if he stopped trying.