Ariane lolled her head to one side. I should change him back, she decided in her slightly addled thoughts. It would be for the best. There is no sense in dragging this out. “No, you can be a prince again right now.” She ignored his squawk as she picked him up and kissed him on the top of his froggy nostrils.
Silver wrapped around Lucien’s frog body, glittering like distant stars. The light expanded, growing larger and larger, until it split, and Lucien—back in his regular human body—fell directly on top of Ariane.
In hindsight, I probably should have not held him over me when I kissed him, Ariane mused as his sudden weight once again squeezed all the air from her lungs. This is rather uncomfortable and less delightful than one would think.
“Your Highness!” a soldier shouted.
Lucien planted his hands on either side of Ariane’s head and boosted himself up. He still wore the same clothes he had been in when Ariane saw him cursed—though they were markedly rumpled, and the puff of his petticoat breeches was entirely flattened—but his hair was in disarray and his eyes were wide with something akin to concern or worry instead of narrowed with that cocky sneer he used to wear.
He abruptly stood. “I’m human,” he blinked.
“See? I said you were smart,” Ariane said. She yelped when Lucien squatted down at her side and picked her up.
“Where’s that mage?” he shouted.
“We’re here!” Donaigh called from the window—a small, round man peering over his shoulder.
“My quarters, now!” Lucien thundered.
“Your Highness—one of the salons would be closer,” a guard offered.
“Don’t squeeze so hard,” Ariane sourly demanded when he tightened his grip on her legs and her back.
“Show the way,” Lucien ordered.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Ariane grimaced as the pain in her arms grew, even as the tingling sensation spread through her body. I’m glad I came here, she thought as she glanced up at Lucien’s face—which was tightened in a grim expression. And I’m glad I had the chance to meet the frog prince. Darkness swamped Ariane’s vision. She tried to fight it before giving in and falling unconscious.
Lucien fidgeted—switching back and forth between pacing and running his hands through his messy hair as he watched Ariane.
Pale and unconscious, she was splayed out over a settee, and the mage with healing magic knelt at her side.
“She’s going to be fine, Your Highness,” the mage said without turning around.
“You said that a quarter of an hour ago, and she still hasn’t awakened,” Lucien said.
The portly mage turned around and gave Lucien a flat, unimpressed stare. “My magic is still purging the venom in her body. Right now, rest is the best thing for her. It’s a good sign.”
Lucien nodded and tried to rub some of the stiffness out of the back of his neck.
He always thought he knew what pain was. As a crown prince—moreover as Severin-the-military-enthusiast’s brother—he had been trained up in the art of fighting and had gotten in a fair share of scuffles. He had been stabbed before—that was, he assumed, the worst pain possible. He was wrong.
Seeing Ariane tossed around like a ragdoll…watching the spiders bite her while being completely powerless to help her in any way…that was the worst kind of gut-wrenching, heart-stopping experience he had ever gone through. Even now, he still felt his muscles twitching.
She could have been killed! Lucien rubbed his face. When we’re married I’ll have to see to it that she has more weapons training than the basics her father taught her. With her personality, if a mage attacks one of her guards, she’d jump in to help.
Lucien assumed it was a given they were going to marry. He had known he had deep feelings for her, but his fear had confirmed it. Ariane obviously felt the same way, or she wouldn’t have been able to break his curse. (Lucien was not going to be the idiot Severin had been and mope around, too foolish to see the truth of what the broken curse had meant. He, for one, wasn’t going to question his good fortune that Ariane returned his feelings. He intended to embrace it wholeheartedly.)
“Sit, Your Highness,” the gutsy mage ordered. “I understand you worry for her, but working yourself into a lather won’t make her wake up any sooner.”
“I’m not a horse,” Lucien protested, though he followed the suggestion and plopped down in an armchair that offered an excellent view of Ariane’s face.
I suppose now that I have identified I love her, I’m supposed to moon over her beauty and her quirks…but I’m just so thankful she’s alive, I can barely string words together.
He felt his body start to relax as he remained seated, and his breathing finally slowed down. I thought I lost her…. Lucien glanced up when he heard the salon door open and his brother’s heavy footsteps.
“How is she?” Severin asked the mage—though he reassuringly clasped Lucien on the shoulder.
“She is still a little ill,” the mage started.
Lucien bolted upright. “You said she was fine!”
The mage eyed Lucien. “But my magic is purging the toxins from her body, so she will be completely restored in a matter of hours. Sleep is very important for her at this moment.” He took great pains to enunciate his last sentence and honed in on Lucien as he spoke.
“Good.” Severin swung his dark gaze to Lucien. “The mages are secured and subdued. They’re much younger than we estimated.”
Lucien nodded—though he kept his eyes on Ariane’s form. “What will you do with them?”
“Question them, of course, but I’m not sure what luck we’ll have. It seems they’ve both been turned mute—though I rather think it was against their will as they have tried to talk. Whatever spell it was that set it off, we think it was tied to the mask the male wore and the black bandage the female wore.”
“What will you do if they can’t be questioned as a result?” Lucien asked.
“A number of the visiting mages are traipsing through their holding cells as we speak to see if they can identify them or lift whatever spell it is they’ve been hit with. Eventually we will have to contact the Veneno Conclave—punishing the magical is their duty, not ours.”
“I see. You’ve come up with a good plan, as always.” Lucien glanced away from Ariane long enough to offer his brother a small but genuine smile. “Though it rankles me to think that we have to send them off to the Conclave when it has been so useless these past few years.”
Severin shrugged. “We have neither the ability nor the resources to hold them for an extended period of time. I find the idea less than favorable given that the Conclave holds tight to its own business and is unlikely to tell us what they discover. However, Sybilla—a fairy godmother—is in a high enough position she can demanded a report, and she promised to pass the information along.”
Lucien nodded and returned his gaze to Ariane.
“Are you going to return to the Summit meetings now?” Severin asked. “We will reconvene shortly—after the mages inspect the rogues that attacked you.”
Lucien shook his head. “I want to be here when she wakes up.”
The healing mage did not bother to disguise his long-suffering sigh.