The Toad Prince

Chapter Sixteen

“I have done no such thing,” Aurelian said, his tone as flat as his face when he glanced at her over the top of the book he was reading. They found the butler in the library, where he often spent his time.

“I saw you.”

“You are mistaken witch. I did not climb on your balcony.”

“You did. I saw you scurrying away!”

Aurelian’s eyebrows lifted, and he glanced at Sorin. “Well, then I know it’s not me because I do not scurry.”

She glared at him, and he scoffed, standing and straightening his tie. “I resent this line of questioning. I did not climb your balcony. Why would I do that?”

“Well, you will endure this line of questioning until she is done,” Sorin said, and Aurelian arched a fluffy white eyebrow at him.

“You think I climbed up to her balcony, my Lord? Really?”

“No,” Sorin admitted, and Nadaria gasped, turning her glare on him. He scrambled to add, “But someone did.”

“Well, who would do such a thing? This girl must have been dreaming.”

Nadaria clenched her jaw. “Look here, buddy. I may wear pink and I may be younger than you, but I’m no girl. And I saw what I saw. Someone was on my balcony, and then some tall skinny drink of water was scurrying his way to the back garden.”

“Maybe I frequent the garden, but that doesn’t mean it was me on your balcony, does it?”

“You expect me to believe you hang out in the garden at three in the morning?”

“I’m a vampire, buddy,” he mocked, glaring down his nose at her. “Silly child. I can’t believe we are depending on you to save us. What a travesty.”

Nadaria’s face went blank, her eyes blinking several times. Sorin considered telling Aurelian that his balls were in danger, but let it play out.

“Well, you’ll be kissing my pink shoes when I save your grumpy butt,” she said. “That’s a promise.”

Aurelian scoffed again. “I can’t even take you seriously.”

He pushed by her, and she muttered, “You’ll regret it, too, vampire.”

His eyebrows lifted and his mouth fell part way open, but he only huffed and stormed out, glaring at Sorin on his way by.

“Well, that went well,” Sorin said, watching the heavy door close behind him.

If looks could kill, the one she served him would’ve been his end. “You aren’t allowed in any more interrogations.”

“What? What did I do?”

“You openly declared your disagreement with me in front of the perpetrator! You’re the worst partner ever.”

“I was just being honest.”

“Well, you picked a bad time to start with that.”

“That’s rude,” he muttered, crossing his arms while she paced the floor.

“I want everyone to come to dinner tonight,” she said, stopping to look at him.

“Why?”

“There’s a rotten apple in this bunch. I know it. I dreamt it.”

“You dreamt it?”

“Yes. Roux and I need to meet everyone. Although, since we’re living in a world of clichés, I bet the butler did it.”

“Did what?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He threw up his hands. “My gods, am I insane, or are you?”

But she was muttering to herself, or the snake, both of which would be odd for most people. It didn’t matter, because Sorin considered his question answered. He stared at her as she walked right by him out of the library without another word.

Later that evening, he’d gathered everyone for dinner. It was the first time in a long time they’d all been together. Even after all these years, things were awkward, and everyone secluded themselves to different parts of the manor. The house was spacious enough. It allowed them to go months without seeing him if they tried hard enough. He knew some of them blamed him, and he couldn’t fault them for that.

Four maids, including Nicoleta and Dumitra. Then there was Codi, Aurelian, and himself. The chef and his two assistants, one man, one woman. And last, the two gardeners, who had obviously given up a long time ago.

“Does anybody have a grudge against you?” Nadaria whispered.

He snorted a dry laugh. “Absolutely. Mihal, the chef, hates me with a passion.” Sorin indicated the middle-aged, black-haired man, who glared openly at him, and he arched his thick brow when he saw he was being discussed. “Darius, a gardener, isn’t as forward with his distaste, but he is not my biggest fan, and Ana, that maid, she hates me, too. They all blame me for what happened in the village.”

Nadaria studied the subjects. Darius was young, close to Dumitra’s age, she guessed. He had sandy brown hair and a thick, square jaw. Ana was older and boasted deep, tired bags under her eyes. She pulled her light brown hair into a stern bun at her nape, reminding Nadaria of her mother.

Mihal spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest. “What the f**k do you want, Sorin? Why am I here?”

Sorin looked at Nadaria. “I don’t know.”

She stood and cleared her throat. “Hello, everyone. I am Nadaria, a witch, and I am here to break the curse.”

Mihal laughed. “Oh really? This we’ve heard before.”

“Yes,” Darius agreed. “I spread their ashes in the garden.”

“I know things haven’t worked out before, but I promise it will be different this time.”

No one looked convinced except Nicoleta and Codi, who both egged her on with encouraging smiles.

“Oh, please. We’re all going to be toads because of this piece of s**t,” Mihal spat, glaring at Sorin, whose face remained placid while he toyed with the stem of his wineglass.

“I killed my husband and kids because of him,” Ana added, her acid stare finding the tattoo on his wrist. “And now he gets to love again. How nice for him.”

“Hopefully we all just die with the last lily,” the other young maid whispered, staring down at her lap so her auburn hair fell around her freckled face like a curtain.

There were several murmurs of agreement, including Aurelian’s.

Nadaria wished she had questioned Sorin more thoroughly. She hadn’t been expecting this much open animosity from so many.

One of these people meant her harm, but who? And why if she was here to help?

“I just wanted to meet you all,” Nadaria said. “I think it’s important I speak to each of you individually.”

“Why?” Mihal asked.

“Because I would like to.” She walked over to the record player, which she’d brought down. “I would just like to mingle, if you will all humor me.”

Darius barked out a harsh laugh. “A f*****g party? Are you for real, lady?”

“What if he leaves?” she said, hitching her thumb in Sorin’s direction.

He turned to her in surprise, and her suggestion gave the others pause.

“It might help me,” she said to them. “Please. I am your last hope, after all.”

“Okay. If that pig goes,” Ana hissed, and there were more mutters of agreement.

Sorin stood without a word and left the room. As soon as he was gone, the atmosphere relaxed, and they turned curious eyes on her.

“What do you guys like to listen to?”

“Not classical for the love of Gods,” Darius said. “Something newer.”

She grinned, pulling out a Glen Miller album. “Do you guys wanna learn how to swing dance?”

They all stared at her with wide, blank expressions. She had a feeling if they could have her committed to a psychiatric hospital, they probably wouldn't hesitate. These people needed a spark. They were sleep-walking through a nightmare, and had been for decades. Someone needed to shake them awake, and she was going to do it.

“Why?” Ana asked. “For what purpose?”

“For fun!” she yelled, putting her arms out and grinning. “Why not? Are you guys busy tonight, or what?”

“Well… no.”

“I want to learn!” Codi said, springing to his feet.

“Come on,” she said. “I’ll just show you all, okay?”

They all nodded, and she set the record. In The Mood played, and she caught some smiles, even from the grumpier attendees. Nadaria was convinced that Glen Miller’s music was a form of magic in itself.

“Okay!” she grabbed Codi, and started the footwork. “And… rock step, triple step, triple step.” Looking at the others, she sang, “You don’t even need a partner, you can start by yourselves!”

Aurelian watched the pink witch, and was stunned when Mihal stood up and extended his hand to the quiet, withdrawn maid, Sorina.

“Come on. We will show them, huh?”

She was speechless, and a deep red blush erupted from her chest and exploded all the way up to her hairline, but she took his hand and nodded.

Nicoleta’s plump hand wrapped around Aurelian’s wrist, and he glared at her. “No way.”

“Oh, come on, you old bat!” she said, yanking him to his feet. The robust woman was stronger than she looked, and she pulled him to the dance floor.

They watched Nadaria, copying her footwork, and her carefree, bubbling personality burst with contagious energy. Before long, they all attempted the strange new steps, and smiled like they hadn’t smiled in years.

From across the room Nadaria yelled, “Nicoleta, look at you, girl! You are a natural!”

“I did ballet,” the maid said, giggling, and moving on swift, sure feet that had Aurelian scrambling to keep up.

Others weren’t so quick to catch on, stumbling through the steps, but it was fun and the dining room filled with raucous laughter.

Sorin leaned against the other side of the door, his head laid back and eyes closed. A soft smile took refuge on his face as he witnessed the joy she brought, and wondered how a single person could be bright enough to light up the darkest place in the world. When he returned to his room, he heated water for his bath and tried to tamper the uncomfortable ache that blossomed in his chest.

Nadaria looked at the flushed faces around her. “Do you guys want to do this again tomorrow?”

Codi shouted, “Yes!” while the others nodded, and started filing out, chattering amongst themselves.

She gathered the portable record player, tucking it back into its box. Her eyes caught the tattoo on her wrist, and she decided to check on Sorin, feeling bad for ousting him earlier.

She didn’t have to ask anyone where his room was, because her intuition seemed to know, and always wanted to lead her back to him.

Her knock was soft, and fresh nerves chewed at her heart while she clutched the record player to her chest like a shield. The door cracked and then swung open. He was shirtless, in only his black pants, and she swallowed, trying to wet her dry mouth.

“You’re here,” he said, smiling. She thought he looked relieved, like he’d been waiting for her.

“I am. I’m sorry for kicking you out.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s just… they really hate you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, well, I hate me too, so I can’t blame them. It sounded fun, though. You really are magical.”

She looked down at the record player in her arms, and then up to him. Their eyes met, and the contact sparked a jolt of electricity, as if an invisible, crackling current of longing rippled between them. Feeling she was in the exact place she was fated to be, she whispered, “Well… do you want to learn to swing dance?”