Kissed by Songs of Lilies: A Frog Prince Fairy Tale Romance

1. The Stolen Bride

Iwoke to rain lashing my window panes. Outside, the sky was red on the horizon–a bad omen.

Still, it wouldn’t stop the festivities tonight. Another blighted ball.

I turned over in my bed and groaned into my pillow. Another day wasted with preparations. Another evening ruined by mindless pleasantries and idle gossip.

The summer social season lasted four long months, and my father, the ruler of our seaside kingdom, wouldn’t rest until I’d attended every single event.

To be more concise, he wouldn’t rest until I’d made an advantageous marriage. I shook the unwelcome thought from my mind and stared out at the familiar rain-soaked landscape.

I was no stranger to storms. I knew the sea’s lullaby–heavy, rolling waves and fierce winds. I’d heard lightning crack, felt thunder shake the ground, and watched ancient trees ripped from the earth.

When I was little, the storms frightened me. I would sit up in bed and cry while my fearless older sister jumped on our feather bed, telling me to hush.

Nonetheless, momma always came. She would bring a candle, gather us in her arms, and tell us stories of long ago. Stories of the fae who brought storms and stole brides.

I never thought I would become one of those stories.

That night, the air was filled with laughter and conversation. Men and women from all over our seaside kingdom gathered to dance and make meaningful connections—romantic and political.

The sound of their merriment traveled out of the crowded, stuffy ballroom, through the French doors, across the patio and the tower of champagne, and into the ancient grove of trees beyond.

I longed to follow it.

I longed for freedom.

It was a wicked thought. My mother was dead. My father, my sister, my kingdom–they all depended on me and my prospective marriage. I couldn’t let them down.

So, my younger sister, Magnolia, and I stood dutifully at the entrance of the ballroom, greeting our guests. The arrivals were becoming more spaced now.

Magnolia wiped a trickle of sweat from the back of her neck. ”Do you think anyone would miss us if we went to the refreshment table?”

I looked up at the grand clock, its golden hands ticking in quiet synchronization. ”It’s scarcely past seven. We should wait a few more minutes.”

Magnolia’s lip poked out in a subtle pout that reminded me of when she was younger. ”All of these people are late. Why should they receive a formal greeting?” she grumbled.

”Maggie,” I admonished.

She gave me her best puppy dog eyes. ”Georgia,” she whined. ”I know you don’t want to stand here any more than I do. It’s so humid I could float to the refreshment table.”

I couldn’t help but smile. ”You’re right. It’s dreadful, isn’t it?”

As we moved to abandon our post, a familiar voice drawled, ”Why, Georgia, Magnolia!”

I turned and spotted Lady Catherine at the ballroom entry. Her gown’s hoop skirt protruded at least a foot on each side, and its silver brocade accented her graying hair. She waved merrily at my sister and I.

Was it too late to pretend I hadn’t seen her? Magnolia seemed to have the same thought because she kept walking. I gently grasped her wrist and tugged her back. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment.

Privately, Maggie called her Lady Cat because once she cornered you, there was no escape. Just like a cat with a mouse, she could happily torment you for hours.

”Hello, my darlings. I do apologize for being late,” she said. ”You know how hard it can be to get out the door.”

Having stood in this doorway for nearly an hour, I imagined I knew it far better than her. I smiled nonetheless. ”It’s no trouble. We’re pleased you could make it. You are well, I hope?”

”Oh, yes. Incredibly so. And your family?” she inquired, glancing around the ballroom, likely to take inventory of tonight’s guest list.

”Yes, thank you. We are all well. Father is in excellent health. How is your daughter? I believe she was recently married.”

She beamed at me. ”Very well, indeed. The Duke is a fitting husband for my sweet Angelica. I always did say she was the prettiest of her age, excluding present company, of course.”

”Of course,” I replied through a thin smile. I hated how everyone was always scrutinizing my appearance and temperament. Was I fashionable? Was my face pleasing? How was my manner? Was I haughty or humble?

My governess had tried to counsel me on which traits would secure a fetching husband, a fabulous fortune, and a beneficial alliance for our kingdom. However, I proved to be a poor student.

I just wanted to be myself.

But I was afraid the real me wasn’t enough. I enjoyed reading late into the night, allowing the candles to burn down to their wicks. I liked being with Magnolia and running through the woods. I liked digging my hands into the soil and gardening.

Sadly, I was fairly certain much of this would be considered ”below my station” at best and ”wild” at worst.

I wasn’t fit to rule a kingdom.

It was always supposed to be fearless Briar, my older sister, but she was gone now. I shook the melancholy thought from my mind and tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

Magnolia was rapidly steering said conversation toward her favorite topic. ”Do you have any news from the harbor?” she asked curiously.

It was one of the benefits of talking to Lady Catherine. Her husband was a wealthy merchant, so she knew everything going on at the harbor—which ships had come to port, which ships had never returned, any new or unique products in the market, and stories of the fae and their terrible island.

”Tragic news, I’m afraid,” she said, glancing around and lowering her voice.

Whatever she knew wasn’t polite party conversation. My interest was immediately piqued. ”Oh?” I asked.

She motioned us closer. ”Another abduction at the marketplace. This time, two children were taken.”

”How dreadful,” I said softly. My heart ached for the family. I knew how hard it was to lose someone you loved. I thought again of my elder sister, Briar.

Maggie asked, ”And it was them?”

Lady Cat nodded. ”Their father made a bargain with one of the folk. They say he didn’t mean to trade the children, but you know how it is, he got the wording wrong.”

My sister and I both nodded. We knew the stories. The fae brought nothing but destruction. Their storms had battered our coastline for generations. No one wise sought them out.

If you were unwise, you could find them in the market, selling their wares for a secret or a whispered price. No coins were accepted. Instead, you would pay with something far more precious—your laugh, your most cherished memory, your old age, your greatest secret, your first love, a single tear, or a lock of baby hair. If you offered them gold instead, it would turn to sand and slip through your fingers.

This man had paid dearly indeed.

My sister lowered her voice. ”His nightmare may not be over. If they have taken the children, they may yet be replaced.”

My mouth dropped open in horror. I hardly dared to speak that word aloud.

”Changelings,” Maggie whispered.

Sometimes, the fae would steal a human child and replace them with a changeling, a fae child. It was their cruelest trick. At first, some parents were fooled, but most knew within days. While the child looked exactly the same, little clues would emerge. Suddenly, the child’s favorite food would make them sick or their hair that had always been parted to the left might move to the right.

Once the parents knew, things often escalated. The fae child could become volatile, malignant, or restless. If they became terribly angry, it was rumored their eyes would turn black. To toss them out was to risk the wrath of the fae and guarantee your own child would never be returned. I couldn’t imagine the pain of looking into the eyes of a near perfect facsimile of your child, only to meet a stranger’s gaze.

Lady Cat shook her head as if it were all too much for her. ”A grim business. Now, princesses, you must promise you will never, ever visit their markets. If you encounter a fae, hold your tongue. A word may cost you your life.”

We nodded. We knew this. Every child in our kingdom knew this.

Yet, somehow, people were always ensnared. How? Why?

Another twenty minutes passed as Lady Cat told us every imaginable detail of this season’s new fashions.

I found my mind wandering back to the patio and its welcoming breeze and star-studded night sky. I bet it was cooler out there.

The truth was I didn’t want to stop on the patio. I wanted to keep going. I wanted to go deeper and deeper into the canopy of trees and underbrush until I could scarcely find my way back again.

It was a wicked thought. My father, my sister, my kingdom–they all needed me.

Maggie stomped on my foot, startling me away from my thoughts and back into the ballroom. ”Ow!” I cried.

Lady Cat blinked at me in concern. ”Are you quite alright, princess?”

”I, um, yes. I mean no...”

My sister, always a better liar, came to my rescue. ”Oh, she looks positively faint. She really should sit down.”

”It must be the heat,” Lady Cat lamented. ”Get her a glass of something cool and have her rest for at least two dances.”

My sister bobbed her head obediently. ”Yes, Lady Cat–Catherine,” she corrected herself.

We hurried away. A line had formed at the punch bowl where men and women were imbibing perhaps more than was socially acceptable in their quest to beat the heat. The temperature would have been unbearable if it weren’t for the open doors and windows, allowing a distant ocean breeze to ebb and flow.

Unfortunately, we walked straight into another obstacle, our father. Tonight he was acting as king, host, and apparently matchmaker. He wasn’t alone. By his side stood a stout, strong man, likely in his mid-forties.

Upon spotting us, my father opened his arms in welcome. I tried not to cringe. I knew exactly who this man was–another suitor.

”Ah, my two darling daughters. At last. Allow me to introduce our guest, Regent Callahan. He has traveled far to be here with us tonight.” My father held my gaze meaningfully. His intent was clear. This man was an advantageous match, and I should act accordingly.

I forced my lips into a smile and inclined my head in deference. ”If I’m not mistaken, your dress denotes you are from Frost Haven. Is that so?”

He looked pleased that I knew something about him. Encouraged, his eyes ran up and down my figure appraisingly. I supposed he liked what he saw because he licked his lips and asked, ”Might I claim your next dance?”

My stomach turned. This man was more than twice my age, and everything about him felt wrong. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, lingering on my breasts. I didn’t want to dance with him. I certainly didn’t want to marry him.

But our riches wouldn’t last forever. The fae’s storms ravaged our shores. The cost to rebuild and survive was high. Our kingdom had no male heir and no clear line of succession.

And so, I danced.