The Frog Prince (Timeless Fairy Tales #9)
K. M. Shea
Chapter 1
The Prince and the Maid
Lucien wondered if it was possible to die of boredom. If it was, surely he had to be at least halfway there. He propped his feet up on a footstool and stared at the ceiling as his teacher droned on and on like a worried sheep.
“—after countering their forces in the magnificent battle for Glowma, Princess Rakel marched her troops north and re-captured Ostfold, the capital of Verglas,” Scholar Pierre spoke in a voice that sounded as dusty as one of the scrolls he was constantly pushing into Lucien’s face.
Lucien tapped his fingers on the armrests of his chair, then loudly yawned.
Scholar Pierre did not take the hint but droned on. “Though Princess Rakel proved to be the linchpin for Verglas’s war against the Chosen, it was well known that several military figures supported her. Verglas lore claims the existence of a General Halvor, but Loire has no such records. This might be in part because our country as we know it had not yet been formed.”
Irritation made a muscle in Lucien’s cheek twitch. Why doesn’t he stop? Haven’t I been obvious enough in my disinterest?
When Scholar Pierre paused for a moment to take a breath, Lucien was quick to interject. “Yes, that’s all very well, but you’ve been rambling on about history for the entire morning. Isn’t it time to stop?”
Scholar Pierre adjusted his spectacles with a thoughtful expression. He was younger than most of the teachers Lucien had been foisted upon during his endless years of lessons. Scholar Pierre's bland blonde hair was always uncombed, and his shirts were wrinkled, but the lines of his face were still soft.
He can't be older than Father—a rarity in a community that seems to most value whoever has the longest, whitest beard.
“We have closely studied history today, Your Highness, because it is a vital and important subject. It is one in which you must be well versed as a member of the royal family.”
Lucien smirked. “Then make Severin learn it. He's going to be my advisor on everything. As long as he knows it, we’ll be fine.” His brother—half-brother if one wanted to split hairs over it—would frown sharply at him for skipping his duties, but the truth was Lucien wouldn't ever do anything without Severin anyway, even when he was crowned king in the far-off years to come.
“Your brother already learned these lessons at age thirteen,” Scholar Pierre said.
Lucien dropped his smile and scowled. He didn't appreciate the reminder that his father forced him to keep up lessons and classes as an adult, while Severin had finished his classroom studies when he was barely more than a child. “But if one of us knows this information, that should be enough.”
“I'm afraid not, Your Highness. You are the future king. Even with Prince Severin at your side, you must still rule on your own knowledge.”
Lucien settled back into his plush chair, wriggling when a button dug into his back. “Then enlighten me. How does the mystical royalty of foreign countries affect my rule and reign?”
Scholar Pierre rubbed his chin and squinted at Lucien. “History repeats itself, endlessly,” he said. “The people and cultures change, but we are forever making the same mistakes. Countries overspend their budgets; wars come and go, and the people fear the future and incorrectly recall the past with more fondness than it deserves.”
Lucien rolled his eyes. Such a jolly fellow he is. “If history always repeats itself, why bother learning it? By the time you can tell it is repeating, it's already too late, and you are in the middle of it.”
“You must know history so you may change it,” Scholar Pierre said. His eyes were lit with an intense light as he held Lucien's gaze. “If you are in the middle of a massive repeat of historic events, knowledge of the past will provide clarity in a time when very little makes sense.”
Lucien stared at his shoes—irked to see that some of the decorative bows adorning them had become untied. “That sounds like something a historian would say in order to secure employment,” he muttered.
Scholar Pierre peered at his pocket watch. “If you are so opposed to history, we could switch to mathematics or economics.”
Lucien wanted to sneer, but he forced himself to keep his bored look in place.
While Severin had finished his formal schooling at such a young age, Lucien assumed he would need lessons for longer—he was a lazy heir apparent after all and had always been several months behind Severin, even though he was older. But Lucien had passed his twentieth birthday years ago, and he was still learning the same lessons he had been taught as a child—and all of this was under his father's orders.
If Father had his way, I would be taking lessons until the day I die—such moving confidence he has in me.
“If you look to the chalkboard, I believe today we should discuss balanced budgets,” Scholar Pierre said.
Lucien made a show of yawning again and fanning his face. “Sorry, old boy. I don't have it in me today. I think we’re done.”
Scholar Pierre glanced at his pocket watch again. “Your lessons aren't scheduled to end for half an hour.”
Yes, I am so inept I cannot be trusted to manage my own schedule. Lucien's smirk stayed indolent. “I say they're over now.”
Scholar Pierre bowed. “Very well, Your Highness. I will look forward to tomorrow's session.”
Lucien airily waved as he hopped out of his chair. He strode to the door and slipped out of the study and into the hallway as smoothly as he could. I need to get out of here. Too bad Severin and Elle are in Noyers, or I could beg off on a trip to Chanceux. His mind dwelled on his brother's pleasant chateau before his thoughts shifted to his brother and sister-in-law as he strode down the hall. I need to avoid Severin like the plague—he’s here to prepare for that wretched multi-country summit he’s holding at Chanceux. Seeing him will mean more responsibilities. But Father might leave me be if I were with Elle. I’ll have to barter with her to get her to agree to it, though, unless we go riding.
The little bit of tension that Lucien held in his shoulders eased. That’s it. I’ll call for Henry to bring me my riding boots and coat, then I’ll go for a ride.
He whistled happily as he popped out of one wing of the palace and into a small garden that was enfolded within the palace walls. At the opposite end of the cottage-sized garden was a maid sweeping cobwebs off a doorframe. “You there, maid,” Lucien called.