Before Ariane could reply, Prince Severin stood, making his chair scrape. “I call to order the first meeting of the Summit,” he said. “As I said last night, my wife and I have organized this event with the intension of addressing the rampant evil that has spread across the land. I would like to begin with a report on each country. In my invitations, I asked you to prepare such a report ahead of time so we might all be aware of the troubles we face. Who would like to go first?”
“I can.” The man in the Erlauf military uniform stood and addressed the crowd, letting Ariane see the black eyepatch that covered his right eye. “I am Colonel Friedrich of the Dragon Army, husband of Queen Cinderella, and Prince of Erauf. Erauf lands have been overrun by goblins. It started two, perhaps three years ago. It’s an infestation that has grown steadily worse—and it is unusual because of the great number of goblins we’ve fought and their solid organizational methods.”
The debonair colonel clasped his hands behind his back and nodded to a soldier who stood near him. The soldier took a stack of papers and began passing them out. “We’ve outlined the places in which they’ve hit us and the spots where we have successfully routed them,” the colonel continued. “Since Cinderella was crowned queen, things have gotten a little more manageable—not because the goblins have stopped coming but because we now recruit among former Trieux citizens as well.”
There were some murmurs over this. Five years ago, Erlauf had invaded the much smaller country of Trieux after Trieux had made declarations of war. The battle was brief, and the losses had been quite low, but many countries of the continent had not looked favorably upon Erlauf for what was thought to be a radical response.
Ariane glanced down at Lucien to see what he thought.
The prince was peering at his reflection in his silver wine goblet, blinking one eye and then the other.
The pattern continued throughout the morning.
Lucien stretched out on his back when the King of Torrens reported a recent increase of trolls, giants, and ogres that had started not even a year ago. He loudly ate crackers when Baris told of an influx of harpies and a kraken attack. Worse yet, he fell asleep when Prince Callan of Ringsted and his bride to be—the Selkie Princess Dylan—explained they had defeated a sea witch who had created massive storm fronts that isolated Ringsted not even a year ago.
By the time they had gotten to Loire, Ariane was irritated enough with the apathetic prince that she considered poking him awake. I didn’t know so many countries were experiencing such turmoil. She looked from the various reports Lucien had been given by multiple representatives to the prince, who was still napping. How can he sleep at a time like this?
“What of Mulberg?” Princess Astra of Baris asked after Severin finished the Loire briefing. “Why did they not send a representative? Did you not invite them?”
“They were invited,” Princess Elle said. “But in her reply to the invitation, the Queen of Mulberg said they hadn’t experienced any difficulties whatsoever, so she did not see the necessity of the Summit.”
“I imagine their lack of trouble is due to the Veneno Conclave,” Emperor Yevgeniy said, his voice was perhaps a little bitter. “With the Conclave’s base and Academy in Mulberg, I cannot imagine rogue mages would risk venturing there.”
“Did you send an envoy to Zancara?” Lord Dooley—one of the Ringsted representatives—asked.
Severin shook his head. “Zancara’s borders are still closed. It’s anyone’s guess what is happening there.”
Ariane glanced down at Lucien again, who was so deep in sleep his back feet were twitching. She frowned and tugged on his pillow, rocking him out of his nap.
“What did you do that for?” Lucien complained.
“You are in a meeting of countries,” Ariane replied in a lowered tone. “Sleeping through it will not make a favorable impression.”
“So? You’re not my teacher. Ugh. Well, you’ve woken me now. Lift me up so I can drink some wine.”
“The servants will not refill your glass,” Ariane said. “I suspect your brother has ordered them to cut you off.”
“What? Why?”
Probably because you are a frog and you’ve drunk almost a full bottle of wine by yourself? Though, to be fair, he did spill much of the bottle when he flailed his cup around between his snack of crackers and his nap. Rather than reveal her thoughts, Ariane said, “Who can tell?”
Lucien grunted. “I’m going back to sleep. Don’t wake me again!”
Ariane glanced around the room—the representatives were now listening to the representatives from Farset. Hoping her whispered conversation with Lucien was escaping notice, she said, “You are the crown prince. You should remain invested.”
Lucien released a throaty-croak. “If I didn’t know any better, I would accuse you of consorting with Scholar Pierre. See here: Severin is running this. He’s awake for it. He will tell me everything I missed once this mess is over.”
“Your brother’s knowledge is not a proper excuse,” Ariane said.
Lucien, who had been snuggling down into his cushion again, froze. “What did you say?”
Ariane tilted her chin up at the frosty tone he had used. A soft spot, hmm? “Just because Prince Severin is a competent leader does not provide you with an excuse to be irresponsible.”
The frog prince scuttled around so he could face Ariane. “That is where you are wrong! Whatever I would conclude from this meeting, Severin will be five steps ahead of me.”
“Your brother’s intelligence has no direct tie to your abilities,” Ariane said.
Lucien was silent for several long moments.
Ariane couldn’t tell if he was angry or thoughtful as his frog features were rather difficult to read. He was silent for so long Ariane briefly returned her attention to the Farset representatives.
“You understand nothing,” Lucien finally said with a surprising amount of vehemence. “You’re just a servant, and you are overstepping your boundaries. Now be quiet.”
Ariane blinked in surprise as Lucien hopped in a circle and turned his back to her.
Prince Severin leaned in. “Is everything all right?” he asked in a rumbling whisper.
“Naturally,” Lucien snarled. “Everything is fine.”
Severin raised an eyebrow but glanced back at the Farset representatives and sat up straight in his seat once more.
Ariane released a tiny sigh and took a moment to straighten her dress. I don’t know what’s more disheartening…all this bad news from other countries, or the knowledge that Loire has a spoiled and selfish crown prince.
Lucien thought he would give Ariane the tongue lashing she deserved when she returned him to his room that evening. However, before he could launch into his stern lecture, she opened the door and tossed him inside. As if he were a dirty shirt!
Lucien yelped as he was thrown head over heels and landed on a folded blanket with a splat. The cushion he spent the day on hit him a moment later and bounced off. “You!” he thundered, but Ariane had already shut the door and waltzed off during Lucien’s brief time as a flying frog.
“Good evening, Your Highness,” Henry said. “I am glad to see you are looking so spritely.”
“That, that, that commoner!” Lucien snarled as he righted himself.