Chapter Nine

Violet entered the dining hall at a distracted stroll, her mind on her conversation with Basil. She'd set the wheels of her plan in motion. It wouldn't be easy to turn back now. Not that she intended to.

Many of the family had eaten and were getting ready to leave, but as Basil had said, the food was still laid out. It wasn't until Violet sank into a chair and felt something bulge in her pocket that she remembered the poor frog. She hesitated, then felt it squirm into a better position and let herself relax. It had been fine thus far, surely it wouldn't make much difference if she ate first. It wasn't as though it had been trying to fight free of her pocket.

Violet was barely aware of what food she put in her mouth, her thoughts too consumed with the idea of a future with Yannick. She couldn't deny that her heart was heavy. But that was understandable given her recent disappointment regarding Ari. She had no real reason to look on Yannick with anything less than respect. Surely they could build a stable life together, even if not a very exciting one.

Once she'd shoveled down some lunch, Violet made straight for the gardens on the non-ocean side of the castle. She knew there was a large pond there, and it seemed the best place to deposit the frog. She didn't spend much time in the garden, preferring the ocean views and the sand beneath her feet, but she knew it was a favorite haunt of Wren's. She'd have to ask her sister-in-law if she'd seen many frogs roaming the area.

When Violet reached the pond, however, she encountered a problem. Apparently, the frog had no interest in being dumped back into the water. It came out of her pocket without protest, but when she tried to release it, it clung to her desperately. Any time she managed to get her hand free, it only leaped back onto her skirts, attempting to clamber back into her pocket.

"No, you're free!" she told it, exasperated. "I'm releasing you back to your home. Silly creature, do you want to live in a pocket? This is where you belong!"

Unsurprisingly, the frog was deaf to her words. It continued its determined attempts to remain attached to her person. Violet tried to repel it, but there was only so much she could do while still being gentle enough not to hurt it.

"Come on, frog," she said pleadingly. "This is a very nice pond in a very nice garden. There are lots of bugs for you to eat, trees to shield you from the sun, nice water to paddle in…this garden even has a secret tunnel over there." She gestured vaguely. "It's fit for royalty, come on! How picky a frog are you?"

Still the frog made no move toward the water, just staring unblinkingly up at her.

She rocked back on her heels, frowning down at the amphibian which was now sitting calmly on her lap. Surely this wasn't normal behavior for a frog.

"Do you…do you want to stay with me?" she asked it, bemused.

The frog just blinked its bulbous eyes at her.

"Do I seem that lonely?" she asked it ruefully. "Is it that obvious that I'm desperate for a friend?" She sighed. "I have no reason to want for companionship," she informed the frog. "I have twelve siblings, for goodness' sake!" She looked down at it. It was watching her with an intensity of focus she found strangely comforting. She had its full attention, for whatever that was worth. "And yet, I clearly am wanting for companionship, since I'm pouring out my troubles to a frog."

She couldn't help laughing, both at herself and at the ridiculous amphibian. "Come on, then. I'll put you back in my pocket, just for a bit. Can you even keep frogs as pets? Is that something people do?"

The frog didn't reply, but nor did it resist when she picked it up and slipped it into her pocket.

"You're not as slimy as I expected," she commented, pulling the pocket open so she could peer in at it. "Smooth, but actually quite pleasant to the touch. My congratulations on your cleanliness."

The frog blinked at her, the strange movement of its eyelids equal parts unnerving and entertaining. Chuckling, Violet let the fabric fall closed and started back toward the castle.

The afternoon was mainly taken up with communicating about Yannick's upcoming visit, and assisting with preparations. She caught a few knowing looks from the servants and suspected that some were quicker than Basil had been to understand the reason for the merchant's son being so honored. She told herself not to let it trouble her. What did it matter if gossip went ahead of the event itself? Perhaps she should have been more open with Basil about the true nature of her bargain with Yannick, but she knew for certain he'd object. He'd want to protect her, and in so doing, would ruin the only solution they had for the merchant crisis.

All through her activities, the frog sat happily in her pocket. Occasionally it shifted around, but any time she offered it the chance of exiting her pocket, it showed no inclination to do so.

By the time she made her way to dinner, she was weary, and in no mood to be sociable. She also didn't feel like explaining her sudden acquisition of a pet frog, so she left it where it was. The meal had barely started, however, when her new companion sabotaged that plan.

Zinnia was once again present, with Genny on her lap. Obsidian, however, was still caught up with the Enchanters' Guild. It seemed whatever situation had required his assistance was more demanding than Violet had realized. Zinnia was her usual lively self. She launched into a humorous account of the cool disdain with which Obsidian had apparently set about deflating the ego of some of the more difficult student enchanters. Almost as soon as Zinnia began speaking, the inhabitant of Violet's pocket began to make frantic attempts to get free.

Her gown bulged and shuffled alarmingly, long amphibian legs kicking into her thigh as the frog went berserk trying to find the exit.

"Not now," Violet muttered under her breath. "I'll take you back to the pond, just wait until after dinner."

The frog paid no heed. As Zinnia continued with her tale, it pushed and wriggled with everything it had, eventually succeeding in finding the opening in the fabric. Violet's hand shot down as its squat little head poked out into the fresh air, but she wasn't quick enough. It slipped through her grasp, slithering onto her lap then leaping straight onto the table.

Violet lunged for it, but apparently it wasn't finished. With bizarre determination for a creature which had spent most of the day dormant in her pocket, it hopped its way along the table, heading straight for Zinnia who was still speaking.

It took only moments for the loose amphibian to catch the attention of Violet's family. Three-year-old Teddy was the first to see it.

"Look, Mama," he said, pointing. "Frog!"

Everyone turned to look, and a chorus of squeals went up. The various reactions directly correlated to the age of the observer. Violet's mother drew back from the table with a genteel little cry of horror, and a few of the older princesses let out gasps or squeaks as they pulled their hands instinctively back from their food and leaned backward in their chairs.

The children, however, were delighted. Their squeals were the loudest, but they showed no sign of withdrawing. Instead, they leaned forward with great excitement, Azure even going so far as to reach one chubby little hand toward the still-hopping frog.

Violet shoved her closest sister out of the way as she slid down the table, trying to catch hold of her little green friend. She'd begun to despair of catching it before someone squished it when it suddenly—and inexplicably—came to a stop. Everyone else paused too, staring warily at the imposter. The frog was sitting still, its front feet splayed and its long back legs bent up under it as it stared from Zinnia to the seats on either side of her. As Violet came to a stop behind her sister's chair, the frog let out a doleful ribbit. The eldest princess had of course stopped speaking in the kerfuffle, and she stared blankly back at the frog.

"Can I help you?" she asked after a prolonged moment of silence, humor tickling her words.

If possible, the frog's eyes bulged even more than usual.

Zinnia was openly grinning now, even as she restrained her daughter from getting too close to the creature. "It seems to like me, doesn't it? Should I keep it as a pet?"

"Too late," said Violet waspishly, taking advantage of the frog's distraction to scoop it back up. It didn't even protest, deflating in her hand into a defeated posture. "I've already adopted it."

A general outcry greeted these words, ranging from demands for information to laughter at what was clearly interpreted as a joke.

"Violet, I trust you're not serious," her mother said when she could make herself heard. "You can't have a frog as a pet."

"Why not?" Violet demanded belligerently.

"Because it's…not seemly," her mother said in a helpless way. She looked at her son. "Basil, surely you agree with me."

"I don't see the harm, Mother," said Basil mildly.

"Yes, Mama, Violet needs a new friend," piped up the youngest of Violet's sisters. "Because her sweetheart ran away from her, remember?"

"Thank you, Wisteria," said Violet dryly. "So thoughtful of you."

Wisteria shrugged. "I'm just saying the truth. You can't get me in trouble for that."

"Can't I?" Violet glared threateningly at the eight-year-old, who resumed eating her dinner with complete unconcern.

"Oh, leave her alone, Wisteria," said Basil. Again, his words were light and casual, but Wisteria instantly subsided.

Violet winced. If Basil was coming to her defense, however diplomatically, he clearly thought her in need of shielding. No doubt they all considered her to be languishing under a broken heart.

What nonsense. Mostly.

Cheeks burning, Violet returned the frog to her pocket, bizarrely grateful that she'd been allowed to keep her pet. It was a good thing that Basil had never been in the habit of saying no to his sisters. Since assuming the throne at eighteen, he'd been a much more popular guardian than their father before him, rest the late king's soul.

Violet spent the rest of the meal responding to fascinated questions about how she'd come to adopt a frog, leading her to make her escape as quickly as possible. She couldn't really explain the affection she felt for the creature. On private reflection, the detail that sprang most to mind was the moment by the pond, when the frog had sat on her lap and given her such absolute, unhurried attention. But she didn't say this to her family. It would be too embarrassing to admit that she liked the frog because it had time for her. How pathetic had she become?

When she reached her suite, Violet told the maid who was waiting for her that she would ready herself for bed, not wanting to deal with the girl's reaction when she produced the amphibian from her pocket. As soon as she was alone, she withdrew it, however, placing it on her pillow.

"Where would be comfortable for you to sleep? she asked it thoughtfully. "And you must be hungry." She glanced at the windowsill. "I see a few dead flies there, if that helps." She started to pull her arms free of her dress, and was startled by the frog's sudden motion as it hopped off her bed and across the floor. Before she could stop it, it hopped right into her receiving room, the door of which was standing open.

Violet followed it in, trying to coax it to return. But it had settled itself on the windowsill and refused to budge.

Satisfied that it wasn't trying to escape through the window—there was only a narrow strip of land between the building and a perilous cliff—she returned to her sleeping chamber. Once she was ready for bed, she went back into the receiving room to try again to convince the frog to sleep in her chamber, which had the benefit of a warm fire. She found it munching on a large blowfly that had obviously met its end on the frog's chosen windowsill, not looking as though it was greatly enjoying its meal. She picked it up, but it instantly squirmed free, returning to its position.

After several more attempts, Violet gave up. Perhaps it didn't wish to be her pet. If it preferred to be free, she didn't blame it. She felt guilty for not returning it to the pond, but it was too late now. It was dark, and she was in her nightgown.

Resolving to let the poor animal go emotionally as well as physically, she climbed into her bed, drifting at once into a dreamless slumber.