Just A Kiss: (The Frog Prince) (Tangled Tales Series Book 2) (6 page)

“I’ll show you how it’s done,” he mumbled to himself, slamming down his visor and charging forward with new life and vigor. He felt more like a man now than he ever had, and would prove to Lady Freya that he was worthy of her affections after all.

His lance hit the baron’s so hard that it unseated the man, and he landed on his backside on the ground.

“Three points to Sir Arnon,” called out the herald. “He is the winner of the competition and has won the hand in marriage of the baron’s daughter.”

Arnon took his victory lap, then got off his horse and headed over to the baron who had just gotten to his feet and was brushing off his clothes.

“Well done, Sir Arnon de Bar, well done,” said the man with a nod of his head.

“It’ll be an honor to marry your daughter, my lord.”

The baron looked at him and shook his head, and Arnon got the feeling the man thought he was addled.

“The prize is yours,” he said. “But my daughter isn’t a normal lady, so I think honor is not the proper word in this instance. However, I wish you well in the marriage. Meet me in the great hall for the feast and we’ll discuss the dowry you’ll attain when the vows are said.”

The baron headed away, and Arnon looked up and waved his hand to the cheering crowd. He headed to the stable outside the practice yard, with the black lace sleeve blowing in the breeze from atop his head. He looked up to the lists and nodded to Lady Freya and she just smiled and nodded back.

“My lord, congratulations,” said his squire, running up to help him remove his armor. He took off the helm and stuck it under one arm as his squire unbuckled his breastplate.

“Brother, you did it!” Wolf pushed through the crowd to greet him, with Stefan and Lucio at his side.

“Now you’ll have a wife as well as a castle.” Stefan reached out and took the helm from him while Arnon worked on removing the rest of his armor.

“Don’t say that too loud, brother.” Arnon’s eyes scanned the area. “After all, the baron’s still alive. Nothing will be mine but his daughter for now.”

“Be patient,” said his father. “This plan works out better than our previous one. Now you’re on the inside and it’ll be easier to attack.”

Arnon thought about their previous plan to siege the castle and just shook his head. “Nay, that’s not the way to do it, father.”

“Earl Tavistock,” his father reminded him, since he was in his shapeshifted form.

“When is the wedding?” asked Wolf, leaning on a rain barrel of water. The squire helped Arnon remove the last of his armor.

“I’m going to find out as soon as I get to the great hall. I’ll also find out about the dowry.” Arnon walked over to the barrel and leaned over to splash water on his face. The heat from his head being trapped in the helmet was instantly cooled. He closed his eyes as he splashed more water on his face and let out a sigh.

Ribbit. Ribbit.
Arnon’s eyes shot open at the sound, and there in front of his face was a frog in the water, staring him in the eye. He jumped back, knocking into Wolf who knocked into Stefan, who dropped his helm to the ground with a thunk.

“Arnon, you fool, watch what you’re doing,” said Wolf with a scowl.

“There’s a frog in there, and it startled me.” Arnon pointed to the water barrel.

“Where’s a frog? I don’t see it.” Stefan leaned over and looked into the water.

“It was there I tell you.” Arnon stretched his neck to look too. “Mayhap it’s that damned frog of Lady Freya’s.”

“There you are,” came a voice from behind him, and he turned to see Freya standing there with her handmaid and a guard right behind her. She held onto her frog with two hands, so Arnon knew now it wasn’t her pet he’d seen in the rain barrel. “I’d like to invite your family to the great hall to dine with us.” He wondered how she knew this was his family. He supposed it was because of the identical looks of him and his twin.

“Thank you,” said Wolf, stepping forward, being the chivalrous knight as always. “I’m Sir Arnon’s twin brother, Lord Hugh de Bar, but most people call me Wolf.” He started to reach out to kiss her hand, but then just pulled back and nodded when he realized she was still holding onto the frog.

“And I’m his brother, Sir Stefan.” Stefan nodded as well.

“And you’re their father,” she said, looking over to Lucio. Arnon and his brothers just stood their with their mouths hanging open, not sure how she knew their father’s secret. Thankfully, Lucio kept his composure and handled the situation with grace.

“My lady, I can only wish I had the honor of being the late father of these fine knights. I am Earl Roland Chaserton of Tavistock. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not the most social of people, so I haven’t. But I’m certain my father has probably met you before. Let me call him over to tell him you’re here.” She looked up, trying to catch her father’s attention, and Arnon, his brothers, and Lucio just exchanged glances. If the baron had been friends with the earl, he might know something was not right. If they were to maintain the alliance between Tavistock and Babeny, no one could ever know the truth that the earl was dead and their father was assuming his identity.

“Some other time perhaps, as I have urgent things to attend to in Tavistock and must leave anon. Still, I am honored to meet you and I thank you for your invitation.” Lucio hurried away before she could say anything more.

“Well, at least your brothers can join us,” said Freya.

“Nay, we have obligations as well,” answered Stefan. “Shall we go, Lord Wolf?”

Arnon looked over and shook his head, not wanting his brothers to leave. He wasn’t sure what he was getting into and wanted reinforcements nearby should things go bad and he needed to renege on the betrothal after all.

“Nonsense,” came a deep voice from behind them. “You’ll stay for the wedding feast at my insistence.” The baron walked up, having already removed his armor and washed up from the joust.

“Wedding feast?” asked Arnon. “Shouldn’t we wait until we’re actually wed before we celebrate?”

“We will. I’ve arranged for the wedding to take place right there in the great hall before the meal.”

“Today?” asked Freya, sounding just as surprised as Arnon.

“Aye. No sense waiting. You won my daughter’s hand fair and square, young man, so we’ll seal the deal without further delay.”

“But, it’s so sudden,” said Arnon. “And we’ve yet to discuss the dowry.”

“Don’t worry about the dowry.” The baron chuckled and waved a hand through the air. “I’ll be sure to make it worth your while. As we all know, I’m very old and won’t live forever. I don’t have a son, nor will I ever have another child since my wife is on her deathbed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Arnon saw the sadness wash over Freya’s face.

“What I’m trying to say, is that the husband of my daughter will inherit everything at my death. My castle, my riches, and take control of my army as well.”

Arnon looked over to his brothers, hardly able to control his excitement. Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted all along? This was much easier to marry the girl than to have to fight and kill for what he wanted.

“What are we waiting for, my lord? Lady Freya, may I escort you to our wedding?” Arnon held out an arm, but Freya’s hands were still occupied, holding onto her frog.

“Freya, for God’s sake put down the toad and take your betrothed’s arm,” growled her father.

“It’s a frog, father, and if I put it down it might get stepped on, so I’ll hold it instead.”

“Give it to your handmaid,” he ordered.

“Oh, no, m’lord, I don’t want to touch it.” Carine squeamishly backed away with her hands in the air.

“Then dump it in the rain barrel,” ordered the baron.

“Father, I would never put Gar in there! That’s where the knights wash up.”

“Gar?” asked Arnon with a grin.

“It’s short for Boregard.” She held up her hands to show him the fat frog, and Arnon could see its markings looked totally different from the frog he’d seen in the rain barrel. The frog croaked and wiggled out of her hands and hopped right at Arnon, landing on his shoulder.

“Gar seems to like you,” she said, holding out her hands, trying to get the frog back, but it didn’t want to come to her. It moved around the back of Arnon and settled on his other shoulder instead.

“Freya, did you hear what I said about that pesky frog?” Her father wasn’t happy and Arnon didn’t want anything to ruin this wedding. He was about to get everything he wanted and if he had to deal with a witch and a frog in order to get it, he’d do just that.

“Boregard is welcome to ride on my shoulder,” he said, taking Freya’s hand and putting it atop his arm. “Lady Freya, I’m looking forward to the wedding.”

He headed toward the great hall holding onto Freya and balancing the frog on his shoulder. It croaked in his ear and sounded so loud to him it was almost deafening. But not deafening enough to block out the guffaws of his brothers following right behind him.

Chapter 7

Freya couldn’t believe she was about to be married to a man she didn’t even know. As handsome as he was, she still wasn’t sure she wanted to be married. She climbed the steps to her mother’s bedchamber, having sneaked away when her father was busy introducing Arnon to the other knights.

She needed to talk to her mother about all this, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her. She hurried down the corridor and barged into the room, quickly closing the door behind her, hoping her father’s guards hadn’t seen where she was heading.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Marni standing at the opposite side of the room, admiring herself in her hand mirror.

“Marni, what are you doing? You are supposed to be taking care of mother.”

The witch quickly put the ornate hand mirror trimmed in swirls of gold back into the medicine bag slung over her shoulder.

“You mother’s health hasn’t changed. In fact, it’s worsened,” she said.

“There must be something we can do.” She hurried to her mother’s bedside and sat on the edge of the pallet, taking her mother’s hand in hers. “She feels so cold.”

“Like death,” said Marni.

It was exactly what Freya had been thinking. “I’m going to try making a potion at the swamp tonight,” Freya told her. “I’m sure with some of the swamp’s gifts I can concoct a potion and add some magic to it to heal her. Perhaps if we get her out of the castle and are able to use magic on her – she’ll survive.”

“Nay, I don’t think that would be a good idea since this is your wedding day and all.”

“I’ll sneak away tonight.”

“From your wedding bed? I highly doubt Sir Arnon will like that.”

“He won’t know. I’ll wait until he’s sleeping.”

“You should just concern yourself with your wedding and also your guests. After all, Arnon’s brothers will need entertaining. It’s too bad their father left, because I was looking forward to seeing him again.”

Freya’s head snapped up and she surveyed Marni busying herself with something across the room. “What did you say?”

Marni stopped and didn’t turn around. “I said you should entertain his brothers.”

“You said something about their father. Why did you say that? The man with them wasn’t their father. He told me himself that his name is Earl Tavistock.”

“My mistake,” she said, slowly turning around. “I just figured Lucio would have come with his boys.”

“Do you know their father?”

“I’ve met him once or twice through the years.” She brushed invisible lint from her clothes.

“Earl Tavistock told me Arnon’s father is dead. Did you know that?”

“Oh, I guess not.” No emotion at all showed on her face and Freya didn’t understand Marni’s sudden lack of sympathy. Even when she’d found her near the burnt witches, Marni didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact she could have been killed as well, or that the rest of her coven was dead.

There was a knock at the door and her father poked his head into the room. “Freya, your handmaid awaits you in your chamber. I’ve chosen the gown you’ll wear for the wedding, now hurry and change because the priest is waiting in the great hall.”

She looked back to her mother once again, still sleeping. “Yes father,” she said and heard him close the door. “Mother, I’m going to be married and I wish you could be at the wedding. I’m so sad that I might lose you any day.”

“Come now,” said Marni, pulling her to her feet. “I’ll escort you to your chamber myself so you can prepare, or you might never get there.”

“But what about mother?” She looked back over her shoulder as they quit the room.

“Your mother won’t know the difference if you’re married or not. She’ll be lucky if she ever wakes up again.”

* * *

Arnon leaned against a trestle table near the fire, a large tankard of ale gripped in his hand. He raised it to his mouth and quaffed down the liquid, then banged the tankard on the table and let out a loud belch. Only . . . it didn’t sound quite like a belch. It sounded more like the loud croak of a frog.

“What the hell was that?” asked Stefan, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“I – I don’t know.” Arnon held his hand over his mouth and sank down onto the wooden bench. Freya’s pet frog hopped around the table, landing in one cup of ale after another. “I think it was Freya’s frog.”

“It was you, brother,” Stefan pointed out. “What is wrong with you today? You’ve already had at least five tankards of ale and the meal has yet to start.”

“I’m just really thirsty. I can’t get enough liquid. Plus I keep having the urge to go back to the jousting yard and dunk myself in that rain barrel.”

“You’re just nervous about wedding the witch,” said Wolf in a low voice. “It’s not uncommon for a man to have questions and doubts at a time like this.”

“I don’t even know her,” Arnon said in his defense. “Then there’s the fact she’s a witch. I’m not sure I should do this. I’m going to tell the baron I’ve changed my mind.” He got up to find the baron, but stopped in his tracks as Freya walked into the room followed by her handmaid who was carrying her long train.

She looked like a princess. She wore a long, velvet bright blue gown over a long-sleeved white undertunic. Long tippets, or sleeves, were trimmed in gold lace and hung down past her knuckles all the way to the floor. Instead of her usual boots, he saw two soft silk, pale blue slippers on her feet peeking out from under the gown as she walked. She held up the edge of her skirt and headed over to the dais to meet with her father and the priest.

Her long, dark hair was plated and trailed down her back and her head was encircled with a crown of fresh flowers. He saw rings on her fingers, and she held onto a bouquet of fresh multi-colored wildflowers as well.

“Still want to change your mind?” Wolf chuckled. Wolf and Stefan’s eyes were fastened on the girl as well.

“She looks – quite different. And beautiful.” Arnon swallowed deeply, feeling very thirsty again.

“You’d better get over there before she changes her mind about you since you’re no prize,” Wolf jested with him.

“Aye, I agree, brother,” said Stefan.

Arnon quickly made his way to the dais, where the priest had already opened his book ready to start the wedding ceremony. He honestly didn’t hear a word the priest said, as the girl’s beauty took his attention. He found himself repeating the vows and then before he knew it, everyone was clapping and the priest told them they were married and that he should kiss the bride.

With all the ale he drank, he suddenly felt nauseous. He needed to belch, but held it in, because he didn’t want it to come out sounding like the croak of a frog again.

“What’s the matter?” Freya asked, looking up shyly with a small smile. “Are you afraid? After all . . . it’s just a kiss.”

At those words, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers. Once again he felt a bolt of energy dash through him just from being in such close contact with this girl.

“Let the meal begin,” shouted the baron. They all climbed the dais and took a seat at the wedding table. “I’d like to propose a toast to my new son by marriage,” he called out. “Arnon, pick up your goblet of wine and drink with me. To success and an alliance between Babeny and Slapton.”

The last thing Arnon wanted to do right now was drink more liquid. He already felt a need to relieve himself, and if he drank more he wasn’t sure what would happen. But the baron wouldn’t let him out of it, and before he knew it, he drank and once again felt the need to belch.

He let out a loud croak, trying to conceal it with his hand, but everyone heard it.

“What was that, de Bar?” asked the baron, with a surprised look upon his face. “You sounded like a . . . a frog.”

Arnon looked down, thankful to see Gar hopping around his feet. He quickly bent down and picked up the frog and held it up in the air. “I suppose Freya’s pet is just wishing us congratulations as well.”

Everyone laughed and thankfully the meal went on without any more problems. That is, until he got up to dance with his new wife, and stepped on a frog. It wasn’t Gar this time, as Freya had sent her pet up to her chamber with a page an hour ago. This frog was smaller and faster. It hopped out of the way, and he tried to ignore it. He led Freya to the dance floor and everyone started laughing and pointing at him and he couldn’t understand why.

“Brother, look behind you,” Stefan called out.

Arnon turned around to see not one, but a good half dozen frogs following him across the hall. They hopped up and down, scaring the women and making the children laugh. The small boys and girls chased after the frogs, thinking it was some kind of game.

“Are those yours?” he asked Freya.

She looked over to the frogs and then back at him. “Nay. I only have one frog, but it seems as if you have a whole court of them following you, my Frog Prince.”