The Frog Prince Read online

  PRAISE FOR JENNI JAMES

  Beauty and the Beast (Faerie Tale Collection)

  “Jenni James takes this well loved faerie tale and gives it a paranormal twist. Very well written and hard to put down, even on my cruise vacation where I had plenty to do. Looking forward to others in Jenni’s Faerie Tale series. A great escape!”

  —Amazon reviewer, 5-star review

  Pride & Popularity (The Jane Austen Diaries)

  “This book was unputdownable. I highly recommend it to any fan of Jane Austen, young or old. Impatiently awaiting the rest of the series.”

  —Jenny Ellis, Librarian and Jane Austen Society of North America

  “Having read several other young adult retellings of Pride and Prejudice, I must admit that Pride and Popularity by Jenni James is my top choice and receives my highest recommendation! In my opinion, it is the most plausible, accessible, and well-crafted YA version of Pride and Prejudice I have read! I can hardly wait to read the [next] installment in this series!”

  —Meredith, Austenesque Reviews

  “I started reading Pride and Popularity and couldn’t put it down! I stayed up until 1:30 in the morning to finish. I’ve never been happier to lose sleep. I was still happy this morning. You can’t help but be happy when reading this feel-good book. Thank you, Jenni, for the fun night!”

  —Clean Teen Fiction

  Northanger Alibi (The Jane Austen Diaries)

  “Twilight-obsessed teens (and their moms) will relate to Claire’s longing for the fantastical, but will be surprised when they find the hero is even better than a vampire or werewolf. Hilarious, fun, and romantic!”

  —TwilightMOMS.com

  “Stephenie Meyer meets Jane Austen in this humorous, romantic tale of a girl on a mission to find her very own Edward Cullen. I didn’t want it to end!”

  —Mandy Hubbard, author of Prada & Prejudice

  “We often speak of Jane Austen’s satiric wit, her social commentary, her invention of the domestic novel. But Jenni James, in this delicious retelling of Northanger Abbey, casts new light on Austen’s genius in portraying relationships and the foibles of human nature—in this case, the projection of our literary fantasies onto our daily experience.”

  —M.M. Bennetts, author of May 1812

  Prince Tennyson

  “After reading Prince Tennyson, your heart will be warmed, tears will be shed, and loved ones will be more appreciated. Jenni James has written a story that will make you believe in miracles and tender mercies from above.”

  —Sheila Staley, Book Reviewer & Writer

  “Divinely inspired, beautifully written—a must read!”

  —Gerald D. Benally, author of Premonition (2013)

  “Prince Tennyson is a sweet story that will put tears in your eyes and hope in your heart at the same time.”

  —Author Shanti Krishnamurty

  ALSO BY JENNI JAMES

  Faerie Tale Collection:

  Beauty and the Beast

  Sleeping Beauty

  Cinderella

  Rumplestiltskin

  Hansel and Gretel

  Jack and the Beanstalk

  Snow White

  The Twelve Dancing Princesses

  The Jane Austen Diaries:

  Pride & Popularity

  Persuaded

  Northanger Alibi

  Emmalee

  Mansfield Ranch

  Prince Tennyson

  This book is dedicated to Tanner,

  my green boy. I love you.

  CHAPTER ONE

  HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE Nolan turned to his mother, Queen Bethany of Hollene Court, and announced, “I have decided to do it!” He threw the missive from his intended, Princess Blythe McKenna, upon the small end table near the settee in the formal drawing room where his mother preferred to take her tea.

  “You decided to do what, dear?” his mother asked as she sipped at her cup.

  “I have decided to visit Blythe in disguise.” He sighed and sat down across from her in a green-and-white-striped overstuffed chair. “I must meet her in person. I cannot ascertain from her letters what she is truly like. It is a great muddle, and it is time I decided once and for all if I will indeed offer my hand or not.”

  “But you are already promised to each other!” She set her cup upon the saucer and placed them both on the end table. “What is this nonsense?”

  “Mother, it is not nonsense. Betrothing me as an infant is not something I can accept, especially when I am quite unsure whether my bride-to-be is a spoiled child or a blessed saint.”

  She gasped. “Nolan! Watch your tongue.” She never did enjoy his mention of saints as general cant.

  Nolan sighed. “Forgive me. But there is something so self-possessed about her letters that quite causes me to scowl. I have got to sort this out for myself before any royal announcements are made. It is time I approached this differently, visited her as an uninvited guest, and saw how she would treat me.”

  “My goodness!” The queen’s hand flew to her prominent bosom, the plum ruffles of her gown doing much to make her appear rounder and plumper than she actually was. “What do you plan to do, Nolan? Disguise yourself as a pauper or some such?” She looked truly scandalized.

  He chuckled to himself. Perhaps it was the mischief-maker in him, or perhaps he enjoyed unsettling her feathers, but whatever the reason, he took pleasure in watching his mother’s reactions. At times they were simply invaluable. “No, not a pauper. I have decided to take it a step further than that.”

  “How shall you disguise yourself, then?”

  “Perhaps … as an animal?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Her arms swung out, one violently upsetting the tea things upon the end table so they came crashing down upon the floor and shattering. One fragment skittered across the marble flooring to nudge his shiny boot. Normally his mother would be aghast at the mess and insist it be cleaned immediately. However, this time it was as if she did not know it had happened. “Why in all the great heavens would you decide to take on the form of some animal? You, Prince Nolan! One of the handsomest men who has ever walked the halls of this great court—you now wish to present yourself to your betrothed as an … an …” Her voice trickled off as she began to sway.

  “Mother, do not swoon. It does not become you,” he said languidly as he slowly leaned forward, ready to assist if need be.

  Bethany sat up. “I do not swoon! I have never swooned.”

  “Just so.”

  “But why must you appear as an animal? What will they think of us? Nolan, this cannot be right. You must consider a less ludicrous scheme.”

  He laughed. “No. It is perfect—how else will I be able to learn what this girl is really like? If I come to her dashing and princely, she will no doubt be quite smitten, as they all are. But if I come to her as, say, a dog or something, she is bound to show her true character.”

  “A dog! My son, a dog. I cannot bear it. I cannot even think such a thing. It is not the right animal at all!”

  “Perhaps you are correct.” He thought about it for a few moments. “A dog might be a little too easy. Far too many people love dogs.”

  “Well, it is good to know you are finally speaking some sense!”

  “No, I must plan on something much more hideous.”

  “More hideous? Nolan!”

  He folded his arms. “Yes, something all girls detest and run screaming from.”

  “You would not dare! This is all some hoax, is it not? You are merely jesting your mother, like you and Sariah did when you were children, constantly pulling those maddening pranks upon me. Tell me this is one of your larks. Tell me.”

  “I am afraid not, Mother.” He stood and walked toward her.

  “Then why? I do not u
nderstand,” she said. “What are your plans? Will you simply put on a costume, or—”

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “No. I will not wear a costume. I plan to ask the village herb woman to put a charm over me.”

  “Nolan!”

  “Not for long, perhaps thirty days or so. But I need to know for myself if Blythe is indeed the woman of my dreams, or if my instincts are correct and she will prove to be more of a handful than I am willing to take on.”

  “But you cannot back out of your betrothal now!” the queen exclaimed.

  “I cannot back out of anything that I was not asked to be a part of. The design was yours and Queen Mary Elizabeth’s, not mine.” When she gasped once more, he quickly added, “I promise not to break anything off hastily. I will wait the full thirty days before doing so.”

  “Nolan, you are out of your wits!”

  “No, Mother, I feel for the first time in my life that I am finally doing something especially intelligent. If Princess Blythe can prove me wrong and is indeed the woman I desire, she will want for nothing in all the land. I intend to treat my wife with the utmost of courtesy and devote all my life to creating a magical existence with her. However, she must pass this small test first, because as spoiled as she seems to be, it is better to know that I would indeed be marrying a princess and not a harpy!”

  “Nolan, I will never, ever understand you as long as I live.”

  “Good.” He grinned. “Then my work here is done.”

  His mother paused before saying, “Do you mean to tell me that you shall turn yourself into an animal for thirty days?”

  “Yes, precisely.”

  “And you will look just like this animal.”

  “Yes.”

  “And poor Blythe McKenna has thirty days to treat you kindly, and then once she does, you will turn back into a prince and offer your hand to her?”

  “Hmm … I do see some flaws there.” He sat back down upon the striped chair. “Perhaps if she does something sooner that would prove her kind heart—perhaps I would have the charm bring me back to my princely form earlier.”

  Bethany shook her head as if he were completely foolish. “What would you have her do?”

  All at once Nolan smiled. “I have it! Princess Blythe must kiss me!”

  “Kiss an animal?” She fluttered her hand. “You are mad!”

  “Oh, I hope so. This will only be entertaining if I do have some touch of madness in me.” He winked.

  “My word.” She sighed. “What animal have you decided to become?”

  “The most revolting, un-kiss-worthy creature I can think of.”

  “And that is?”

  “A frog.” He chuckled at her appalled face. “Yes, I shall be a frog prince.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  PRINCESS BLYTHE RUSHED BAREFOOT along the crooked stream, dodging daffodils and tulip shoots as her feet sank into the lush grass, until she came to a beautiful pond near the castle. She spread the skirts of her blue gown and settled upon her favorite boulder. This was by far her most preferred spot on the palace grounds. Here she could lean back and stare up at the lazy clouds as they floated past, or roll over on her stomach and swirl her fingers in the clear water.

  She would sit out here in the sunshine for hours, dreaming and escaping castle life. This was where all her plans for the future were made. This was where she truly had time to herself and no one would irritate her.

  On most days, she would bring with her the large faceted crystal ball that had been the center drop piece of their family’s chandelier in the main throne room. When the great light fixture crashed to the ground a few years back and most of the crystal was broken, her mother had decided to toss the whole thing.

  Thank goodness Blythe had been walking by when she heard the fall or she would have never seen the pretty ball rolling on the floor. Nor would she have been able to snatch it up and bring it out here to the pond to play with.

  She held the ball up and allowed the sunshine to filter through its many facets, painting rainbows all over her gown and the boulder where she sat. It was so stunning. When she was excessively bored, she would place the ball up to her eye and look out into the world, seeing hundreds of little reflections blinking back at her. This time, however, she tossed the pretty crystal up into the sky and caught it.

  There was something so very calming about doing just that—throwing the ball up and then catching it. She leaned back and tossed it again and again and again. As she tossed, she thought, allowing the rhythm of the soaring ball to soothe her whirling mind.

  Why did she have to get married to a prince she did not even know, let alone like? Well, to be honest, she had never met him before, so therefore could not judge him too harshly, but goodness! With such a face as his portraits showed him to have, how could he not be the most inane buffoon who ever lived?

  True, he was handsome—remarkably so. She sighed. That was probably the worst thing about Prince Nolan—his features. Why, if he were plain, or had more common looks, perhaps she would not be so critical of him. But how could she ever take a man with such striking looks seriously? He must be a complete braggart.

  She stopped tossing the ball and pulled his latest missive from her pocket. After staring at it a moment, she crumbled the thing up. She had never read such idiocy in her life! The topics of his conversation were clearly meant to be delivered to a completely dim-witted female, someone who would properly “ooh” and “ah” over such manly exploits like his latest hunting kills and marksmanship with the longbow.

  She rolled her eyes. As if she cared one whit about the number of times he had bested this ogre or that ogre. Where was the wooing? Where were the sheets of music he had written for her, songs she could pick out on her pianoforte and think of him? Where were the bouquets delivered to her door? Where were the poems and attributes to her person?

  Bah!

  She crumpled the letter around a small rock and tossed it into the pond. With satisfaction, she watched it slowly sink beneath her view.

  “A man as self-centered as that can stay beneath the waters of the pond where he belongs. I will not marry such a man. I cannot marry such a man—it is beneath my principles. I have waited my whole life for this man to truly see me and love me, and yet, it will never happen.” She sighed and muttered to herself, “Nay, he will only ever think of himself. I must have more than that. I must.”

  She glanced toward the castle, where the happy shouts of her two elder brothers met her ears as they returned from their ride. Looking up at the fourth-story windows, she knew her two younger sisters were dutifully working away with their governess, doing their schooling and excitedly chattering about whatever it is ten- and eleven-year-old girls chatter about.

  Blythe sighed again. How she abhorred her age!

  With her brothers nineteen and twenty, it made her mere seventeen quite unbearable.

  How she longed for a friend, or a sibling her own age. How she longed not to always be forgotten and alone.

  She looked at the spot where she had thrown Prince Nolan’s letter and pressed her lips together. It would seem that another person destined to be in her life would not see her. He did not even care to know her. Not once did he ask her questions—only arrogantly going off about his own accomplishments. Did he not wish to know who she was at all?

  Tucking her arm beneath her head, she blinked up at the clouds and sighed once more. Good heavens, she was in a melancholy mood. If she were not careful, she might find herself in tears and that would never do. She blinked again.

  But what if, what if she truly was that—oh, goodness! There were some days when she had to wonder if she was even worth getting to know. Mayhap her thoughts and ideals and dreams and all those things she longed for and loved—all of it—perhaps they were too simple for handsome princes to care about. Maybe if she did open up and share her wishes and secrets, he would lose all interest in her. Clearly there was a reason why she was the forgotten one of the family.

&n
bsp; Perhaps it had nothing to do with age at all and was simply because she was that worthless.

  Urgh.

  Blythe sat up quickly and dashed at her tears. Enough. This was silliness to the extreme, and such thoughts were unacceptable on beautiful, sunshiny days. Wallowing in self-pity was only warranted on rainy, dismal days—today was too perfect.

  She tossed her crystal up in the air. There. Just seeing it go up already calmed her. Grinning, she watched as it soared higher, its facets glinting with multi-colored rainbows as it winked in the sunlight before traveling back down to her waiting hands. This time, however, it would seem she had thrown it much harder than usual, for it bounced right out of her palm and splashed some six feet away from her into the pond.

  “Oh, no!” She scrambled to her knees and peered over the edge of the boulder into the water. She could not even make a thing out! It was just her luck—the ball would have fallen right into the deepest part of the pond. Even if she did risk her mother’s wrath by going into the water and ruining her gown, she would never be able to see the bottom anyway, and therefore never be able to fetch the ball through the soft silt and rocks. The crystal would be gone forever! No, no, no.

  Urgh. Her frustration doubled, and she felt like weeping out of her stupidity alone. It would seem she was not worth much beyond the typical dim-witted female who would love a smug prince. That letter was clearly addressed to her, for who else would be so mindless as to toss their favorite ball into the pond?

  Closing her eyes, she brushed angrily at the tears that were much too close to the surface today.

  “Would you like some help?” asked a male voice Blythe had never heard before.

  Her eyes snapped open. She looked around the empty pond and out toward the shrubs and trees surrounding it. “Hello?” she asked. Was she hearing things? That voice sounded so real.

  “I am down here,” he answered.

  She glanced down and shrieked. There, just a few inches from her hand, sat a very large and slimy frog.