Chapter 1
If you ever meet a talking frog—any chatty amphibian, really—my advice would be to ignore it. That’s what I should have done, anyway.
It was the most important day of my life. My eighteenth birthday. I was beyond nervous, so I spent the morning in my papa’s industrial kitchen in France, making my birthday cake. Papa had been teaching me to make cream puffs, and for my birthday I created a towering croquembouche. I filled each little choux pastry with vanilla cream, then drizzled the whole tower with golden threads of caramel.
My mother had harassed me for taking the time to bake on such a busy day—especially when time runs slower in the human realm—but I didn’t want to whip all that cream by hand. I needed the KitchenAid.
My human father was happy in Faerie, but he still kept an apartment in Paris. It was in an old stone building with a balcony view of the Eiffel Tower. There were rooms for my parents and me, and a professional-grade kitchen with all the shiny copper pots and cooking gadgets you could dream of.
Sometimes we came to Paris for a holiday, or to do some shopping, but more often, Papa and I just snuck off to cook. It was our own little world in that kitchen.
I put the last spoon in the dishwasher and glanced at the enchanted clock on the wall that kept Faerie time. Oops, I was running late. I pulled off the apron covering my green spider-silk gown and slipped into my satin heels. I didn’t usually wear heels, but Mother insisted I look my best today.
“No one wants to see your bare toes, Tuala,” I muttered in my best impression of my mother.
A glance in the mirror told me that pale pastry cream was smeared on my golden-brown cheek. I hurriedly scrubbed it clean and adjusted my golden tiara on my black curls. Good enough. Carefully, I lifted the platter holding the croquembouche and stepped through the pantry door that disguised a gate to the faerie realm.
Between one step and the next, the stainless-steel kitchen disappeared and I was back in the realm of Faerie, standing in front of the Lily Gate.
My kingdom’s faerie gate stood on a beautifully carved stone platform in the middle of the pond in front of the castle. Pale pink lilies floated in the water, and stepping stones shaped like lily pads led to the shore. A stone arch, carved with lilies and gilded with the gold that powered the gate’s spell, stood on the platform.
I heard the chatter from the party in the distance. Mother wasn’t going to be impressed with me. I hopped onto the first stepping stone and wobbled on my stupid heels. The platter wobbled. The towering croquembouche wobbled. A little cream puff, right at the top, broke free from the threads of caramel, bounced off my platter and landed on the stepping stone.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the rest of the cream puffs stayed put. I had just gripped the platter more firmly and lifted my foot to step onto the next stone, when a little green frog jumped out of the pond and ate the cream puff in one bite.
I stared at it in disbelief.
“That was delicious! Could I have another one?” croaked the frog.
The frog was talking to me.
I stepped back in shock. Only there wasn’t anything to step back onto, and I tumbled into the pond.
The pond was only waist-deep, but that was more than enough to soak me from my satin heels to my gold tiara before I managed to get my feet under me. I sputtered as my head broke the surface of the water. Little golden cream puffs floated around me and I heard a musical trill of laughter coming from a lily near me.
“Stop laughing, sheerie!” I hissed at the tiny faerie hiding in the flower. The laughter was smothered, but the lily still shook slightly. Of all the aos sidhe—the small folk—no one loved mischief like the twinkling sheerie.
The frog leaped from the stepping-stone with a splash and began to swim around me, munching three more cream puffs before the little pastries became waterlogged and started to sink.
“You!” I pointed a dripping finger at the frog. “This is all your fault!”
“I hardly think that’s fair,” mumbled the frog around a mouthful of vanilla cream. “It’s not like I tripped you. Those shoes were an accident waiting to happen.”
“You’re still talking! Why are you talking?” I gaped at the obnoxious amphibian.
“I should think I’d be allowed to defend myself against your ridiculous accusations...”
“No, I mean, why can you speak at all?” I pushed a sopping curl out of my face. My hairpins were lost to the pond, and my thick hair was already springing back up into ringlets. “You’re a frog. Are you under a spell? Did you eat something magical? Anger a witch?”
“Well, Tuala, I—croak!” The frog shut his mouth in surprise. “Excuse me, what I meant to say was—ribbit! Hmm, it would seem I’m prevented from explaining.”
“Interesting.” I eyed the frog suspiciously. “And how do you know my name?”
“Croak.”
“That’s convenient.” I started slogging my way toward the bank. My bare feet collided with the sunken silver plate and I sighed and dunked under the water’s surface again to retrieve it. My shoes I left to rot at the bottom of the pond. The goldfish could have them.
“It’s hardly convenient for me,” said the frog, breast-stroking along beside me. “I’d much rather be able to explain myself.”
“And I’d much rather not show up to the start of the trials soaking wet and smelling like algae.” I reached the bank and pulled myself up onto the grass, collapsing in a heap of wet silk skirts. “Looks like neither of us gets what we want today.”
I eyed the billowing white canopies set up for the party. A row of low hedges stood between the courtyard and the pond. Maybe no one had seen my undignified dunking?
“I really did want to make a good impression today,” I muttered, picking at my sodden dress.
“What’s so important about today that has you all dressed up?” The frog settled down beside me in the grass.
I sighed. “Today is my eighteenth birthday and the first day of the trials.”
“The trials?”
I leaned back on my hands. “Okay, so when I was a baby, my parents threw a massive christening party. Standard princess stuff.”
The frog nodded encouragingly.
“And they invited all the heads of the Seelie Courts, and other important faeries, like Clíodhna, the elder fae. She came in disguise, of course, as she’s still in hiding from the Unseelie Queen. But she did arrive, and she agreed to be my godmother. She told my parents she would give me the gift of true love. She had looked in her enchanted mirror and seen that when I turned eighteen, they should hold a competition to find my future husband and co-ruler of the Lily Court. The winner would be my destined mate. My perfect match.”
The frog flicked out his tongue and snagged a fly. He looked a bit shocked as he started to munch it. “What did your parents think about that gift?”
“As a Seelie princess, my mother was raised with a great respect for Clíodhna and her wisdom. She was very pleased.”
“And your father? He’s human, not high fae. What did he think?”
“How do you know my father is human and not one of the Tuatha Dé Danann?” Was this frog a regular inhabitant of our grounds?
“Well, your skin is a clue, for starters. The Tuatha Dé Danann are all pale skinned and your skin is golden brown.”
I eyed my tawny hand and nodded. “But there are faeries from beyond Tír na nÓg.”
“True, but your ears are also much rounder than is usual for a high fae.”
“Fair enough, frog detective. Yes, my father is human, and yes, he was less impressed with Clíodhna’s announcement. She insisted she had foreseen it in her enchanted mirror, but he was still skeptical. In the end, my parents came up with a compromise. They would hold the competition, but the prize would be engagement only, not marriage. Papa wanted to make sure I had time to truly get to know the person, before binding myself to them for centuries.”
“Your father sounds like a wise man,” remarked the frog.
“He is. He helped me come up with the challenges for the princes.” I struggled to get to my feet. The silk dress was much heavier when wet. “And now, dear frog, I need to get changed. My mother is going to have my head for this.”
“Really?” asked the frog.
“No, but she’ll say I told you so, which is nearly as bad.” I picked up the platter mournfully. “I do wish I hadn’t destroyed my croquembouche though. I wanted to start out on a good note.”
“But you’re the one who gets to choose,” pointed out the frog. “Shouldn’t the princes be the ones who are nervous?”
“Logically, yes. But I still kind of feel like puking at the thought of meeting them all. Prince Naven from the Juniper Court was my friend when we were little, but I haven’t seen him in almost two years. I’ve met one or two of the others at the high court, but I don’t really know them. And a few are from other parts of Faerie, altogether. I wish I knew more about them.”
“I see...” said the frog. “What you need is a—”
“Document detailing all their interests and character traits? I am working on one, but I don’t have enough information yet.”
“Um.” The frog looked a bit taken aback. Not an unusual response when I started talking about research, but not an expression I’d ever seen a frog make. “No, I was going to say that you need an inside man. Well, amphibian.”
I picked up the frog and held him at eye level on my palm. “I’m listening.”
“I already have some knowledge of the Seelie princes because I—ribbit!” The frog grimaced. “And I could collect information on the foreign princes for you. No one would notice a frog.”
I considered his offer. I couldn’t deny I would feel a lot better with an ally to help me sort through the candidates. Even a small green one.
“Why would you help me?” I asked the frog. “What’s in it for you?”
The frog watched a small dragonfly dance past. “I don’t suppose you have any more pastries?”
I laughed. “It’s a deal. Now, if we’re going to be allies, I can’t keep calling you frog. What’s your name?”
The frog croaked at me, and then shrugged apologetically.
“Right, then. In French, you’d be a grenouille. I think I’ll call you Grenie.”
The frog sighed. “It’ll do, I suppose. Now let’s go meet those princes.”
I helped Grenie up onto my shoulder. Even with my heavy, sodden dress, having a friend put a spring in my step as I walked up to the castle to change.
Chapter 2
When I entered the courtyard in a pink (and dry) silk gown and leather flats, the chatter immediately hushed and everyone in the crowd turned to look at me. Princes, their doting parents, the various aos sidhe servants. I stopped and gulped.
“You’ll be fine,” whispered Grenie from his place on my shoulder, hidden in my curls.
I nodded and marched over to join my parents who broke off from the nobles they were chatting with to meet me. My mother walked awfully briskly for someone eight months pregnant. Annoyance gave her speed.
“Tuala,” hissed my mother in a low voice. “Where have you been?” She picked a green strand of pond grass out of my black curls. “And what have you been doing?”
“Well...” I started.
“And where is the croquembouche?” asked my father in his Parisian accent. “You were almost finished when I stopped in to see you earlier.”
“A story for another time,” I said brightly. “Shouldn’t we start the competition?”
My mother sighed and Papa gave me a look that said we’d talk about this later.
We walked together to the dais, shaded under a silk canopy. I scanned the crowd as we went, looking through the sea of unfamiliar faces for my old friend, Naven. Last time I’d seen him, I’d been sixteen. My family had spent the summer at the Seelie Court, as they did every few years. They preferred the quiet of our home at the Lily Court, but the King liked to keep a close eye on his nobles. Naven had danced with me at the Beltane Ball. One dance, but I had been thinking about it for two years.
My heart sank when I didn’t see his blond head anywhere. It wasn’t that I thought he was my true love. I wasn’t sure I could love someone who liked to tease that he had changed my diapers—an unlikely story, as he was only three years older than me—but still, a friend in all this would be nice.
I poked the little frog on my shoulder.
“It’s time,” I whispered to him. “Keep a lookout for me.”
Grenie nodded, and I turned to face the crowd. Everyone hushed expectantly. I glanced up at Papa, and he gave me a reassuring smile.
“Welcome to the Lily Court,” I said, projecting my voice over the crowd as I had been taught by my tutors. “Thank you for answering our call to this rather...unusual event.”
I took a breath. “I am Princess Tuala, heir to the Lily Court. This competition is to choose a suitable husband and future co-ruler of our princedom. There will be three trials. After each trial is judged, one prince will be chosen as a winner, and half of the contestants will be eliminated. Those who are not chosen may return home or stay on to observe the rest of the competition and enjoy our hospitality. The choice is yours. The champion of each trial will win a date with me, so we can get to know each other better, and a...” I hesitated and my mother patted my arm. She had insisted on this last part. Mother said there was only one way to know for sure, and it wasn’t a list of pros and cons. “A kiss,” I finished, feeling my cheeks heat up.
“And after all three trials?” asked a curly-haired prince from the crowd. “Is the winner of the final trial the winner over all?”
“Say yes,” whispered my mother.
“We shall see,” I said, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. My mother sighed. I ignored her. “The goal is not just to win at any cost. The competition is a way for us to get to know each other better.” There was no way I’d leave my fate solely in the hands of a game. I needed to observe the princes and collect as much data as possible to make an informed decision. “The winner will be announced at the ball next week. Are there any other questions?”
The crowd started murmuring, then a gorgeously dressed woman—doubtless a royal mother—asked, “When does the first challenge begin?”
“Immediately,” I began.
The murmuring increased, and my mother clapped her hands together once, loudly. The crowd hushed and she gave me an encouraging nod.
“Immediately, after introductions,” I finished. Ugh, introductions. I didn’t love meeting new people under normal circumstances. And these were far from normal.
As the princes and their parents lined up, I adjusted my hair. Grenie croaked in protest, and I pulled a curl off his face.
“Any help you could offer would be greatly appreciated, frog,” I whispered.
The little green frog leaned forward to observe the first prince in line.
“Prince Declan, of the Hawthorn Court,” he whispered. “His mother is a bit...intense...but he’s a good sort. He’s in Crown Prince Tiernan’s fiann.”
“He’s in a warband?” I looked at the tall, shaggy-haired prince dubiously as his mother marched him up to meet me.
“He is. Although it’s possible he joined just to escape his mother.”
“What are you muttering about?” hissed my mother. “This is not the time!”
I ignored her, swallowing the nervous lump in my throat as Prince Declan was shoved toward the dais.
“Prince Declan.” I curtsied smoothly.
“Princess Tuala.” He bowed.
“I hear you’re a warrior in Prince Tiernan’s fiann?”
“I am.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Please don’t send me home in the first round. I’ll never hear the end of it from Tiernan and the others. Saoirse’s been teasing me for the past two months about coming in the first place.”
I smothered a laugh behind my hand. “I hope you’re a good cook then.”
Declan looked confused as his mother shuffled him off, another prince taking his place.
Grenie knew most of the Seelie princes, and it was much easier to make small talk with his whispered comments about their courts and families as they approached. We hadn’t invited any Unseelie princes—can you imagine?—but six of the twenty princes came from beyond Tír na nÓg, their clothing and appearance proved that they were from realms I had only ever visited in books. I was a bit unnerved to think that anyone would travel so far for the chance to win my hand, even if they had all arrived through the Lily Gate.
The last prince was Seelie, and Grenie whispered, “Aodhan, Willow Court.” But offered no additional information. The Willow Court was located down near the Seelie capital, and I was surprised Grenie had nothing else to tell me. He had known juicy gossip about all the other Seelie princes. Prince Aodhan came alone, although doubtless he had servants around somewhere.
“Princess Tuala, I’m so happy to meet you.” Aodhan reached for my hand and kissed it with a bow. The prince was tall, even for one of the Tuatha Dé Danann. His golden-brown hair swept past his shoulders, and his skin was tanned from the summer sun.
“Um, thank you?” I was flustered by the courtly kiss, and Aodhan gave me a knowing smirk as he rose. He held my hand for a beat longer, before I recovered myself and pulled it back. “Good luck in the competition.” I had said that to all the princes, but I found I actually meant it this time.
“Thank you, princess.” He turned to leave, then looked over his shoulder. “And Tuala?”
“Mmm hmm?” I pinched my arm. This was ridiculous.
“I do intend to win.” Aodhan winked, then walked away.
I sighed and Grenie croaked in annoyance.
“You don’t like him?” My pulse was racing. That one was getting bonus points for…I wasn’t sure what. Did I have a category for winking?
“I’m apparently much less prone to swooning than you,” grumbled the frog.
“I wonder where Naven is.” I stood up on my tiptoes to scan the crowd. My parents had left me to mingle with the other nobles again. “He responded to the invitation. He should be here.”
“Croak,” said the frog.
“It was rhetorical,” I whispered. “I know you don’t know where he is.”
“Your highness,” came a gravelly voice from beside me. I looked down to see a brownie. The knee-high man was dressed in the pressed linen and wool of a castle servant. I recognized him from my time at the Juniper Court. The brownie held out a silver tray in his mottled brown hands. A folded piece of paper with a wax seal rested on the tray. “From Prince Naven.”
“Why isn’t he here himself, Forlagh?” I demanded.
Forlagh looked uncomfortable as he avoided meeting my eyes. “I’m sure I can’t say, your highness. Please just read the letter.”
I sighed and picked up the letter, breaking the wax seal of the Juniper Court. My suspicion grew. The flowery hand it was written in was not what I remembered from Naven’s occasional letters. But he hadn’t written to me in two years. People could change, I supposed.
Dear Tuala,
I was honoured to be invited to your competition, even if I have to admit that it’s a bit of a strange way to choose a husband (I know, I know, you’ve told me all about the christening prophecy. But still.)
That sounded more like the Naven I remembered.
I was looking forward to seeing you again, but due to events I...cannot explain, I am unable to present myself to you today.
My heart sunk. He really hadn’t come.
However, I assure you I am here at the Lily Court, and will be competing for your hand. I hope to be able to explain myself soon.
Your friend,
Naven.
PS. Feel free to ask Forlagh any question you might have. Forlagh loves questions.
I folded the paper back up. “He ‘hopes to explain himself soon’? What is that supposed to mean?” I brandished the letter at the brownie. “Forlagh! What does this even mean? A note? Why is he not here himself?”
“Well...your highness...”
“Invisibility spell?”
“Umm...” Forlagh shifted uncomfortably.
“Did he grow a donkey’s head?”
“Not exactly...”
“Infectious disease?”
“Not as such...”
“You may go.” I sighed.
“Thank you, your highness.” The brownie scampered off before I could accost him with any more guesses.
“Forlagh does not love questions,” I murmured to myself.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Grenie said. “He seemed pretty knowledgeable. You should think of some more theories for him.”
I narrowed my eyes in annoyance. “No more theories, my friend. It’s time.”
“Time?”
I climbed back up to the dais and clapped my hands in an imitation of my mother. The crowd quieted.
“It is time for the first challenge to begin!”
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