Just A Kiss: (The Frog Prince) (Tangled Tales Series Book 2)
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Authors: Elizabeth Rose
Just A Kiss
(The Frog Prince)
Book 2
Tangled Tales Series
By
Elizabeth Rose
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.
Cover created by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik
Books by Elizabeth Rose:
♔
(Legacy of the Blade Series)
♛
(Daughters of the Dagger Series)
♛
Ruby
♖
(Madman MacKeefe Series)
♖
Onyx
♖
Ian
♗
(Barons of the Cinque Ports Series)
☀
(Elemental Series)
☀
The Dragon and the Dreamwalker
✛
(Tarnished Saints Series)
✛
Tarnished Saints’ Christmas (Prequel)
✭
(Greek Myth Fantasy Series)
♡
(Short stories)
♘
(Cowboys of the Old West Series)
❤
(Tangled Tales Series)
☂
(Single Title)
☂
The Caretaker of Showman’s Hill
(Gnarled Nursery Rhymes)
☠
Muffet (coming soon)
Please visit Elizabeth’s amazon page
to see boxed sets, print, and audiobooks
Website:
elizabethrosenovels.com
Table of Contents
The frogs in Freya’s swamp were singing, warning her trouble was on its way.
Quickly and carefully Freya collected the swamp water into a small glass jar and held it up in the air, letting the rays of the full moon light up the contents within. She took a deep breath and touched the crystal orb hanging around her neck from a cord made of braided horse-tail combined with her own jet black hair. Closing her eyes, she silently recited her spell that would let her see the trouble on the horizon before it happened.
She usually recited her spells aloud to keep from being distracted by her own thoughts. Even then, Freya’s forte was transporting – not dabbling in this kind of magick. Marni had told her she needed to be more discreet and learn to do it silently, and that her progression with spells would come in time. Marni was the most powerful witch of the swamps, so Freya listened to her advice. Sometimes.
“Show me what comes my way,” she whispered, trying her best, but still not able to say it all in her head. Didn’t Marni as well as the rest of the swamp witches know that she didn’t like the silence? Freya was an only child and liked to talk to people and have others around her. Even at her young age of twenty summers she often felt lonely. She talked to herself or the trees or even the frogs just to pretend that someone was listening to what she had to say.
She was the youngest witch of the coven. Her mother, Lady Almeta of Slapton in Devon, was also a witch, but very ill and on her deathbed. Her late father, on the other hand, was naught more than a simple knight. Or so she’d been told. Her mother had beckoned to him when the moon was full one night. She’d mated with him in order to conceive, since her own husband was old and unable to father a child. Freya’s real father had died in battle before she was born, so Freya never even knew him.
Her mother’s husband, the old baron, Lord George Fane, could not father children since he was so old when he married Almeta. He’d been desperately marrying one lady after another trying to have an heir – but never did. He blamed it on the women of course, but silent gossip suspected the fault fell upon him alone, but no one would say it aloud.
Lord George didn’t know that Freya was not from his seed, but then again, he didn’t need to know. Freya’s mother had done the deed with purpose. To give hope to an old, barren man, as well as bring him respect from his people. If he had known what she’d done, Almeta would have been banished from Slapton, and Freya along with her. He could never find out that she and her mother were witches, or she was sure he’d tie them to stakes and burn them himself since he hated witches.
A loud croaking sound from the ground by her feet gained her attention. She looked down to see Boregard – her Familiar who was a frog. She could understand him for some reason and he was telling her that she needed to go back to the woods and join the rest of her coven.
“Hush, Gar,” she told him, using the shortened version of his name. “I need to learn to do this on my own without your help.” Instantly she felt a surge go through her and she almost dropped the jar as she bent over in pain from the feeling of pressure crushing her chest.
“Show me the trouble that comes to the swamp,” she commanded. Then in the beams of moonlight, the water in the jar turned blood red and she saw flames burning higher and higher.
“Warriors,” she said aloud, figuring this must mean a village was about to be pillaged and burned, or perhaps there’d be an attack on the castle. She made a quick sweep with her eyes at the trees around her, and she strained her ears to listen for movement. Then she heard it. The sound of thundering hoofbeafs shook the earth beneath her feet as the enemy approached the swamp. She tasted the irony tang of blood on her tongue, and realized she’d actually managed to have a premonition of some sort. Whatever it was, it meant that someone was about to die.
Freya could barely concentrate on her spell because the frogs kept croaking louder and louder. She hunkered down by the shore trying to collect enough swamp water in a second jar to be able to add it to her potion back at the castle. That is, the potion that she’d been concocting and hoped would be able to break the barrier around the castle that kept any magic from working within the high stone walls.
This was the third time this week she’d been to the swamp, trying everything from spells to potions to figure out what it would take to break through the curse that made her magic useless within the stones of the fortress. Her mother was very ill, and the baron refused to let the woman leave the castle. There was no way Freya, nor the other witches of the coven, could help her now. This was all the fault of an old witch that her mother had a confrontation with years ago. Hecuba had put a spell on the castle, making magic nonexistent within it.
Freya looked over her shoulder as she collected the rest of the ingredients she needed. The swamp weeds were just about in bloom and at the perfect time for harvest. She had to work fast since the sound of hoofbeats was getting louder. She was alone in the swamp tonight, as the rest of the coven was having a meeting in the woods inside the ring of standing stones in the clearing. No one would be able to help her should she run into trouble now.
She pushed the jars into her travel bag and closed it up quickly. The warning of Boregard and the other frogs was loud in her head, drowning out any other sounds around her. She stood, ready to make her way back to Castle Fane, but stopped in her tracks as she saw men on horseback riding right toward her – being followed by a large black wolf!
“Egads, Arnon, slow down and tell us where you’re going. We should stick to the path this late at night,” came Sir Stefan de Bar’s cautious complaint as always.
Arnon de Bar urged his horse forward, ignoring the warning of his elder brother. Stefan was a good knight and unbeatable in battle, but worried like a wench at times. Arnon had learned to just ignore him when this happened.
Arnon’s twin brother, Hugh, was in wolf form at the moment, and followed at his side. While Arnon had been lucky enough to be released from the old witch Hecuba’s curse and no longer resided in the body of a wolf, his brother hadn’t been so lucky. Hugh, known as Wolf, still shifted into a wolf every night. Thank God his new wife, Red, didn’t seem to mind.
Behind Arnon and Stefan rode their father, Lucio de Bar who was a warlock. Because of things that had happened lately, he had to stay in his shapeshifing disguise as the Earl of Tavistock instead. But when the family was alone, he thankfully was able to shift back to his normal form.
“I have the urge to go to the swamp,” mumbled Arnon, riding even faster toward the water. He heard frogs calling in the night, and the sound drew him to the water like a siren of the sea luring poor doomed sailors to their deaths. A sense of urgency engulfed him and nothing else mattered but getting to the swamp quickly.
“Arnon, you are being reckless and addled,” scolded Stefan. “Let’s get back on the road, and ride to Castle Fane like we’ve planned.” The wolf let out a low growl of agreement.
“Aye,” said his father. “We need to find out how well the castle is protected and if we’ll be able to lay siege anytime soon. I want all my sons to have their own lands and castles, and this one is ripe for the picking. It would be a good fiefdom for you, Arnon, or possibly for Stefan.”
“I don’t want a castle I have to take by force,” protested his brother. “Let Arnon have it. I’ll find an old deserted castle somewhere and make that my domain.”
Arnon knew the plan. Castle Fane was ruled by the old baron who would be dead soon anyway. He had no male heir, only a daughter. The castle was large, but didn’t seem well protected. His brother, Wolf, had a full army at the ready in Babeny, and his father – in his disguise as the earl of Tavistock – had another army at beck and call as well. Tavistock and Babeny had been enemies until recently. With the death of the real earl and Lucio taking his place, they’d been able to secure an alliance between them.
Arnon broke through the woods first, stopping at the edge of the water and jumping off his horse. He walked slowly along the shoreline of the swamp, feeling excitement as well as danger here. He didn’t understand it, but felt as if he had to be a part of it.
“Well, we’re at the swamp, now what?” Stefan leaned over from atop his horse and shook his head.
“I’m not sure. All I know is that I need to be here.” With every step Arnon took along the edge of the water, frogs hopped out of the marsh and landed with a splash in the swamp just ahead of him. It made Arnon feel powerful for some reason, as if these were his soldiers at his command. He heard the loud croaking of a frog, and if he listened closely, he swore the damned thing was actually talking to him, though he didn’t know what it was trying to say.
“All right, enough of this nonsense.” His father turned his horse, readying himself to go. “Arnon, let’s get back to the plan.”
Arnon cocked his head, thinking he heard twigs snapping up ahead. In the dark he swore he saw movement behind a large rock not five paces in front of him. “We’ve got a visitor,” he told the others, unsheathing his sword. He turned his head slightly when he spoke, yet at the same time kept his eyes forward as he peered into the darkness. “Wolf, can you find out who it is?”
His brother, the wolf, growled lowly. With his head down and the fur standing up on his neck, he slinked forward sniffing the ground. He headed right for the boulder where Arnon had thought he’d seen movement.
“Over here,” Arnon called over his shoulder to Stefan and his father. “Wolf’s tracked someone down.” He hurried forward and they proceeded to follow on horseback.
“Leave me alone! Get away from me,” a female voice echoed in the night. The sound came from behind the boulder. Then he heard Wolf growl, and also the sound of wrestling and rolling and the snapping of twigs upon the ground.
Arnon raced forward and rounded the boulder, stopping in his tracks as he saw Wolf with his jaws around the neck of a beautiful woman who lay prone on the ground.
“Let up, Wolf,” he ordered.
His brother opened his jaws and let the girl go, but stood over her, panting in her face.
“Call off your killer wolf!” The girl’s mahogany eyes bore fire and her full lips turned down into a frown. Her skin was white as snow, and her long black hair was mussed. Part of it stuck out crazily behind her, yet she had a few long strands braided and coiled atop her head. Her eyelids were painted in purple, and a dark black color shadowed and outlined the almond shape of her eyes. She looked exotic and alluring. He’d never seen anyone like her and wondered who she was.
She wore a black leather bodice with long lace sleeves, a flowing black skirt that nearly reached the ground, and short black boots on her feet. Her hands were covered with black lace gloves, and oddly enough the fingers of the gloves seemed to be missing. Black leather arm bands embedded with metal studs covered her forearms. He’d never seen a woman dressed so oddly in his life.
“Wolf, leave her alone. She’s no threat to us,” he commanded as he approached the girl and the wolf.
Wolf backed off and crouched down at Arnon’s feet, his eyes never leaving the girl.
“Who are you?” asked Arnon, putting his sword back in the sheath. “Are you in need of our help? Why are you out here at night by yourself?” He held out his hand to help her to her feet.
“I won’t answer any of your questions.” She just stared at his hand but didn’t take it. “What I want to know is who are you and why are you in my swamp?”
“
Your
swamp?” chuckled Arnon, taking her arm and pulling her to her feet anyway. “You act as if you own these lands when I know they belong to the Baron of Slapton.”
“She does,” came a voice from behind him as his father rode up with Stefan at his side.
“What do you mean?” asked Arnon. “She does
what
?” The girl just stared at them but didn’t say a word. “She’s obviously not a noble – dressed like this and wallowing around in the mud in the middle of the night and all alone.”
“I’ve seen her before, Arnon, I’m sure of it,” said Lucio. “I think she’s the daughter of the baron.”
“You have got to be jesting.” Arnon laughed again, and reached out for her. “Let’s take you with us, shall we?”
“Don’t touch me!” The girl swiped her hand through the air. She never touched him, but as if being hit by an enemy in battle, Arnon was forcefully pushed to ground. Stefan started laughing, and Wolf jumped to his feet.
“How did you do that?” spat Arnon, getting up and reaching out for her again.
“I said – don’t touch me!”
This time Arnon ended up in the swamp. His body hit the water hard and the splash was loud. He ended up sitting waist deep in slimy water with the ends of his long, dark hair floating on the surface. Frogs croaked and jumped all around him. This time both Stefan and his father laughed and it only make Arnon more determined than ever to put the odd girl in her place. He gritted his teeth and shot to his feet once more.
No woman would make a fool out of him in front of his family. Determined to bring this girl back to Babeny if it was the last thing he ever did, he once more headed for her. A huge green and yellow frog jumped at him from the water, and thunked against his chest, managing to stop him in his tracks. The frog landed on the shore right at Arnon’s feet.