Kingsley


    Alexander Kingsley was worrying.


    Not amon action for a frog, though neither was writing on signs or hiding under desks. Thetter of which he was currently doing in Evie Sage’s office. Normally, he quite enjoyed the space: it was airy and excellent for sunbathing. It had quickly be a favorite napping spot.


    It had been frustrating for Alexander to watch Trystan intercept every shipment of vani drop candies, getting up before dawn or at midnight to clip white roses from the courtyard.


    Writing a note that said, Love, Marv.


    If frogs could groan, Alexander would’ve, but unfortunately, all that came from his throat was a croaking sound that formed into its inevitable ribbit. When he was human, he had never been short of something clever to say or a witty retort that had his subjects fawning orughing jovially.


    He’d been good at being a prince, he thought with a sigh.


    Though, oddly, he seemed to also excel at being a frog. So much so that things were growing muddled, his memories bing more difficult to grasp. He wasn’t sure why.


    But he had a terrible theory.


    That theory had led him beneath the desk of a young woman he’d grown quite fond of. Listening intently—an act he excelled at—as the two foolish human beings argued back and forth on Kingsley’s behalf.


    When he was a prince, Alexander had never given much thought to love—or falling into it, for that matter. He’d always assumed he’d marry for political reasons, as his parents had, and allow a natural fondness to form between him and his wife, also as his parents had.


    And now the fate of a neighboring kingdom hinged on not only him bing a prince once more, but also him saving a fated love?


    He wondered if pie might count. He loved pie, and that prospect required far less pressure and far less responsibility.


    No. Worry was not amon emotion of frogs, nor was frustration, but he felt them both. In spades.


    “If any form of social diplomacy is required to speak to this lord, you’re going to need me. You’re being stubborn,” Evie said, and Kingsley flinched.


    Calling Trystan stubborn was like telling a bull it had horns—obvious and foolishly dangerous.


    “I’m not saying you’re not qualified,” Trystan thundered. “I’m saying there is no reason for you toe along. You’ll only slow me down.”


    Kingsley pped a webbed foot to his face. Telling Evie Sage she was a nuisance was like telling a wolf it had sharp teeth—leaving you wide open for it to bite.


    “I have every right to join you in this. You promoted me to apprentice; you gave me an office and a fancy title,” she hissed. Kingsley couldn’t see either of their faces from underneath her desk, but he’d watched them both long enough to know exactly what they looked like in that moment. “Or did you do all that just to tuck me away and shut me up so you could continue on without me?”


    Evie was no doubt ring. Her face would be red, her nose probably scrunched, and there was a high chance she was about to m one of her booted feet against the ground. Trystan would be watching her, looking impassive to the casual observer, but a trained eye could see how his friend came alive when he was sparring with his apprentice. How The Viin leaned into the act of being challenged, how utterly besotted he was with the woman who was brave enough to do it.


    “That’s not fair. You know my magic has not been working properly and I—”


    “It’s cursed! What in the fuck does that have to do with me?”


    And if Evie Sage was using foulnguage, it meant she was about to do something drastic.


    Trystan was pinching the bridge of his nose. Alexander didn’t see it, but he felt it. Just as he peeked out and saw Evie’s boots move closer to Trystan’s. “Are you trying to punish me for yourck of control?”


    Alexander hopped out—he couldn’t resistunching himself atop the desk and writing one word on his board.


    Damn


    “Kingsley!” Trystan seethed. “What have I told you about eavesdropping?”


    It was true, he’d told Alexander to stop. Alexander, on his part, had not agreed to this—in fact, he was sure he’d held up signs that said Ha and then No.


    “Why? You don’t want him to hear what an ass you’re being?”


    Trystan sputtered, “N-No! He’s heard that before!” He paused, the words catching up to him. “Wait—”


    It was toote, because Evie wasughing into her palm.


    And Trystan Maverine watched her, utterly, properly, and near hopelessly in love with her.


    “Oh, that’s amusing, is it?” he said usatorily, looking a little predatory as he backed Evie into the wall. “You take enjoyment in how I turn into an ill-spoken nipoop every time I talk to you?”


    Evie’s back hit the wall, and she grinned. “I love that word.”


    Trystan’s eyes smoldered, but his lip curled enough to show his dimple. “I know.”


    The moment had grown too intense, and as deeply as Kingsley enjoyed butting into other people’s conversations, he’d been waiting far too long for the two of them to finallye together the way they were meant to.


    Alexander made to hop away, he meant to leave, but…suddenly, everything started to confuse him. His surroundings looked unfamiliar, and his tiny heart pounded when he tried to recall what he’d been doing there in the first ce and his brain produced nothing.


    He was hungry. He knew that. Flies. He was thinking of flies. He was confused.


    And then there were tworge beings in front of him, and they were loud and scary, and he wanted to run, he wanted to hide.


    But therger one was picking him up and yelling something in his face. He couldn’t tell what it was, but there was a small part of him that knew it was a name.


    “Kingsley! Wake up!”