Page 12 of Yellow Belly

It blinked its eyes, which were eerily like Stefano’s warm gray instead of the usual yellow. Then it gave a small croak and hopped off his hand. A moment later Henry heard a splash as the frog leapt into the pond.

* * *

“You should leave now,” said Louis.

Henry stood beside him, gazing over the surface of the pond. Stefano was presumably in there somewhere, either swimming around or sitting on a lily pad. Perhaps he was one of the several frogs currently singing from atop a partially submerged log at the water’s edge.

“Leave?” Henry hadn’t been thinking about what would happen next. The leg he had twisted was slightly sore, but the sun felt nice on his shoulders. He felt oddly detached from the world, detached even from himself.

“The king and Prince Philip will assume he’s been murdered or has fled,” said Louis. “Either way, they’ll blame you—for killing him, for letting someone else kill him, for allowing him to slip away.”

Henry considered his options. “What if I tell them you transformed Stefano into a frog?”

“I’ll deny it. But they’ll have your head even if they believe you.”

That was undoubtedly true. “But Stefano⁠—”

“Will live out his life where he truly wanted to be. Lounging about in the muck.” Louis gestured toward the pond. “I hope you realize I’m trying to spare you—just as I’m trying to spare him. You don’t deserve any of what my family has done to you. Take some small valuables from his chambers—I’m sure he must have jewelry or the like. Leave the kingdom.”

In fact, Stefano did own quite a bit of jewelry. Most of the items had been left to him by his mother, who died when he was a toddler. He rarely wore it in public, but on occasion Stefano and Henry would lounge around their chambers wearing nothing but the precious rings and necklaces. Henry knew that even a small part of Stefano’s collection would be plenty to establish a home for himself somewhere over the border.

But no. What if Stefano was injured or grew ill? What if a bird or a snake ate him? Henry frowned at those possibilities. His profound love for Stefano was gone—no, not gone. Faded and shriveled. Yet he still cared about his prince and still had a sense of responsibility toward him. “I won’t abandon him.”

Louis turned to give him a close look. “Three iron bands were not sufficient, it seems. Interesting. But you can’t remain at the palace if you want to live.”

“Then I’ll take him with me.” Surely Henry could find a home where they’d both be safe and content. He concentrated, trying to remember the details of geography lessons that hadn’t seemed important at the time. The sea was to the east, jagged mountains and dry plains to the north—none of that suitable for a frog. Fraysia was across the southern border and would likely soon be annexed in its entirety. All right, the west, then. He had a vague recollection of lakes in that direction. He wished he’d paid more attention to those lessons.

Lessons. An image flashed into Henry’s mind of the room where those lessons had been held: a compact space adjacent to the palace library, sparsely furnished with a few tables and uncomfortable chairs. The windows were placed too high to look out of, and the only decorations had been some dusty paintings of a few of Stefano’s ancestors. In this particular memory, Henry sat close beside Stefano at one desk—all the better to poke him if his attention wandered—while Louis sat at the other with an expression of sharp interest. All three of them were listening to their instructor for the day, the court physician.

“You must not act rashly,” she was saying. “Use careful observation to determine the cause. All injuries have the proper treatment, all illnesses have the proper cure, all poisons have the proper antidote, all curses have the proper countermeasure.”

The memory faded, but not the knowledge it had brought. Henry gave Louis a steady look. “What is the countermeasure?”

He didn’t think Louis would answer. For a minute or two, neither of them said anything, although the frogs continued their song.

“A kiss,” Louis finally said.

“All right, then. I’ll kiss every frog in the pond until I find⁠—”

“Not from you. From the Fraysian princess.” Louis looked slightly smug.

Instead of feeling newly enraged, Henry was merely annoyed, which was disappointing. Hot anger would have felt better, more genuine than his current numbness. Still, he was tempted to at least make a bitter retort.

But by this point Louis had spun on his heel and marched away. A few moments later he disappeared through one of the never-used doors in the garden wall.

Chapter Six

The water felt lovely against Stefano’s skin, a silky embrace that warmed him without overheating. It supported and sustained him, while his strong legs sped him almost effortlessly across the pond. He dawdled along the bottom here and there, nosing curiously among stones, sediment, and plants. Sometimes small fish swam with him like an honor guard. There were other frogs in the pond too, but they stayed out of his way. Perhaps because he was bigger than them.

He spent some time floating just beneath the water’s surface, his limbs spread to absorb the sun’s rays. He’d never felt so relaxed. Lights and shadows flickered around him, but except for a slight drifting with the water, he was completely still. Even his lungs were unmoving as he absorbed the oxygen through his skin.

Stefano felt utterly content.

Eventually he hauled himself onto a smooth stone near the edge of the water, intending to bask in the sun for a bit. When a fat fly buzzed around him, he grabbed and ate it, marveling at the speed of his tongue. The fly was meatier than he expected, with a crunch that was far more satisfying than the bland fare served at royal banquets. The food there was overcooked and underspiced, and⁠—

Royal banquets. The King.

A torrent of memories deluged him—or, more accurately, surfaced all at once from the depths of his transformed brain. Memories of walking on two feet, of wearing fine clothing, of talking and laughing with Henry.