The Salamander Spell Read online

  A Prequel to

  the Tales of the Frog Princess

  E. D. BAKER

  This book is dedicated to Ellie for being my first reader; to Kimmy, Nate, Emiko, Sophie, and Andy for their love and support; to Victoria for her insight; and to all my wonderful fans for being so encouraging.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Books by E. D. Baker

  One

  Like everyone else, Grassina knew exactly how important the Green Witch was to Greater Greensward. Not only did the Green Witch have to defend the kingdom from invaders, whether magical or mundane, she also had to ensure that everything was in good working order, like the roads, the moat, and the castle itself. It was a full-time job, made doubly hard when she had royal duties as well.

  Grassina’s mother, Queen Olivene, had been the Green Witch since before her daughters were born. Although the queen wasn’t very old, everyone knew that someday, someone would have to replace her. Since the title usually passed from mother to daughter, the whole kingdom had been watching Grassina’s older sister, Chartreuse, for some sign that she had inherited her mother’s talent for magic. Unfortunately, that sign had yet to show itself, and everyone was getting tired of waiting, especially thirteen-year-old Grassina.

  Grassina set her hand on one of the thistles that grew at the edge of the moat and jerked it back, scowling. It wasn’t fair. Chartreuse always got whatever she wanted— a horde of suitors, lessons in magic, a new kitten . . . Grassina, on the other hand, had to make do with her leftovers, just because she was the younger sister. Even her instructor in deportment, Lady Sophronia, had taught Chartreuse first, something the old woman mentioned daily. Whereas Chartreuse had been a prize pupil, Grassina was sadly lacking. Her curtsies were either too deep or not deep enough. Chartreuse’s had been exactly right. Grassina’s small talk wasn’t witty. Chartreuse knew how to captivate everyone in the room. Grassina had yet to master the air of command that Lady Sophronia insisted all princesses must have. Everyone from scullery maids to the greatest noblemen paid attention to Chartreuse. Grassina’s ineptness with her lessons didn’t bother her at all; although she loved to learn, she didn’t think anything Sophronia had to say was important enough to worry about. Chartreuse, of course, had considered her own deportment lessons vital.

  Grassina was sure that even if Chartreuse hadn’t mastered the art of courtly behavior, she would have been the court favorite. While Grassina hated her carrot red hair and too many freckles, Chartreuse was always tossing her honey gold curls and admiring her creamy complexion in the mirror. No matter what Chartreuse did, she was always pretty. She even looked good when she cried, because it made her blue eyes dewy so that she seemed sweet and vulnerable. All crying did to Grassina was turn her face red and splotchy.

  Wiping a drop of blood from her pricked finger, she sat back on her heels, waiting impatiently for her sister to finish her lesson. Grassina had been kneeling beside the moat for so long that her legs were getting numb. That morning she’d overheard her mother telling Chartreuse where they would meet for their daily magic lesson, giving Grassina just enough time to look for a hiding place. The pile of stone blocks left over from repairing the tower was only a few yards from the edge of the moat, close enough to listen in on the conversation. It hid her if she stayed put, but wasn’t big enough to conceal her if she moved more than a foot in either direction. Grassina shifted her weight ever so carefully, trying not to make a sound. Leaving before the lesson ended was out of the question since she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place and her mother was bound to see her if she stood up.

  A medium-sized fish chased a school of minnows just below the smooth surface of the moat. Queen Olivene sighed and shook her head, turning to her older daughter. “You need to sound more confident when you recite a spell, Chartreuse. Listen closely. I’ll do it again so you can hear what I mean. It’s very simple, really. Just trace the letters in the water with your finger and say,

  Bubbles small and bubbles large,

  Put yourselves within my charge.

  On the water, write my name.

  ’Round it set a lovely frame.

  Bubbles formed, gathering on the surface of the water until the name Olivene became legible and a circle of bubbles surrounded the word. The queen’s name floated in place until a curious gray green fish rose to the surface and tried to bite one of the larger bubbles. The bubble burst with a loud pop, scaring the fish away. Grassina giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Chartreuse turned around and glanced in her direction, wearing a haughty look of disdain, which might have been more intimidating if Grassina hadn’t caught her practicing that very same expression in a mirror that morning.

  Knowing that there was no use hiding any longer, Grassina sighed and stood up. Queen Olivene frowned at her younger daughter. “Did you skip your lesson in deportment again? I’m sure Lady Sophronia is looking everywhere for you.”

  “I finished my lesson,” said Grassina, her legs prickling as she shifted from one foot to the other.

  “You’re always poking your nose into things that don’t concern you,” said Chartreuse. “It isn’t as if you’re going to get any magic. For two hundred years the firstborn daughter in our family has been the Green Witch. As the eldest . . .”

  “I can’t help it if I’m curious,” said Grassina. “I love watching you do magic, Mother.”

  “It’s your sister’s turn now,” said Olivene, and she turned back to Chartreuse. “I want you to try it again, but this time you have to show me that you believe in what you’re doing.”

  “That’s just it,” said Chartreuse. “How can I believe it will work when it never has before?”

  “It will in due time,” said Olivene. “My grandmother didn’t come into her magic until she was seventeen.”

  “So you’ve told me,” muttered Chartreuse, her lips pursing into a pout. Dipping her finger in the water, Chartreuse wrote her name while repeating the spell in a more commanding tone. When nothing happened, she sighed and turned to her mother. “Tell me again what Father said about your magic when you first met.”

  A slow smile lit Olivene’s face. “He told me that even without my magic, I was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met, but with my magic I was irresistible. I don’t know how many times he said that he was honored that my parents had chosen him.”

  Chartreuse sighed. “That’s so sweet. When I get married, it will be to a man who feels that way about me. He’s going to love me to distraction and put me above everything else. He’ll bring me gifts and take me to tournaments and write poems about my beauty just like Father did for you.”

  “That was a long time ago and we were both young,” said Olivene. “Most husbands aren’t so attentive.”

  “Mine will be,” said Chartreuse. “I’m going to marry for love. Maybe Torrance or Limelyn. They’re both very handsome.”

  For the last few months, one prince after another had come to visit from various kingdoms, hoping to win Chartreuse’s hand in marriage. She had enjoyed all the attention and had been delighted when some of her more serious suitors decided to remain at the castle until she made up her mind.

  “A handsome face isn’t all you
should be looking for,” said Olivene.

  “I know that. They have other good qualities, too. Torrance writes songs about me. He has the most wonderful singing voice, and his eyes . . . Have you noticed what a lovely shade of blue they are? Some of my friends fancy themselves in love with him. I think I might be, too. He says he’ll have another song for me tonight.”

  “Prince Torrance comes from a good kingdom,” said Queen Olivene. “But he wouldn’t be your best choice. He’s a second son, and his elder brother is reputed to be exceedingly healthy.”

  “There’s also Limelyn,” said Chartreuse. “He’s terribly brave and has the nicest smile. I feel tingly when he kisses my hand.”

  Grassina stood up and stretched. “Have you noticed that she doesn’t care if either of them has a brain or is honest or true? The man I marry must have a good heart and love me for myself. He must be smart and caring and—”

  “No one asked for your opinion, pipsqueak,” said Chartreuse.

  Queen Olivene didn’t look happy. “Limelyn is also a second son. His kingdom is small and poor. He wouldn’t bring enough to the marriage to make it worth your while.”

  Chartreuse extended her hand over the water. “I’m going to try that spell again. Maybe if I concentrate harder . . .”

  “Careful,” said Grassina. “You’ll give yourself a headache.”

  Chartreuse smiled sweetly at her sister. “Be nice, Grassina, and maybe I’ll let you marry one of the other princes. Not Stephen or Clarence; they’re both too serious, and I’ve never seen either one smile. Miguel, perhaps. You like animals and such, so you won’t mind that he doesn’t talk about anything except horses and dogs. I think he’s a tremendous bore. I’m sure you’d find him fascinating.”

  “You’re too kind,” Grassina said.

  “Or perhaps you’d prefer Rinaldo. He acts more like a merchant than a prince, but some people might think that’s endearing. Princesses should never lie, Grassina, so be honest. Don’t you think one of them would be ideal for you?”

  Olivene looked annoyed. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss them, Chartreuse. Miguel and Rinaldo may not share your interests, but they are both the sole heirs to sizeable kingdoms. Either one would be a good choice.”

  “Not for me, Mother,” said Chartreuse. “All either one cares about is his own kingdom. I want a husband who will care about Greater Greensward. Now be quiet, Grassina, so I can try this spell again.”

  Grassina held her breath as her sister recited the simple poem. Chartreuse had tried one spell after another over the last few years, but so far not one of them had worked. Part of Grassina wanted her sister to succeed. After all, the kingdom needed a Green Witch in every generation, taking over when her predecessor was no longer strong enough to protect the people of Greater Greensward. Another part of her, however, was so jealous that she got a sour taste in her mouth every time she thought about Chartreuse being able to work magic. It would mean that one of her greatest fears was about to be realized: she, Grassina, would be the untalented nobody in a family of special people.

  After reciting the spell, Chartreuse waited expectantly as a few errant bubbles drifted across the water. She’d worn her hair loose that morning, so when she leaned close for a better look, a curl fell forward to trail across the water’s surface. Chartreuse wasn’t aware of it until a large fish, mistaking her hair for a floating insect, snapped at the curl and yanked. “Ow!” she squeaked as she lost her balance. She fell in the water far enough to drench her face and hair, and might have tumbled in all the way if her mother hadn’t grabbed the back of her tunic. When she sat up spluttering, Chartreuse had bits of water weed plastered to her face.

  Grassina laughed. “Now, that took talent! I’m sure your suitors will be impressed when they hear what you can do!”

  “Don’t you dare tell them!” cried Chartreuse, lunging at her sister.

  Their mother stepped between the girls. “That’s quite enough,” Olivene said. “Chartreuse, princesses do not strike their sisters, so stop trying.”

  “But she’s so aggravating, Mother!” complained Chartreuse.

  “And as for you, Grassina,” Olivene continued. “I expect that you will show discretion and refrain from telling anyone about your sister’s lessons.”

  Grassina started backing away. “I won’t say a word as long as no one asks me how Chartreuse’s magic is going. But you know that princesses must always tell the truth.” Hiking up her skirts, Grassina turned and ran.

  “You’d better watch out!” shouted Chartreuse. “When I’m the Green Witch, I’ll teach you not to be such a brat!”

  “You’ll have to get your magic first!” puffed Grassina as she disappeared around the side of the castle. “And I’m not holding my breath until you do!”

  Two

  King Aldrid and his men were tilting, taking turns riding at the quintain—the figure of a knight that spun around each time they hit it with a lance. Grassina knew that the quintain had been rebuilt that spring, but it already looked battered and ancient. Since the king was an avid jouster, he and his knights practiced nearly every day.

  Grassina was passing by when her father rode to the front of the line. Staying well out of the way, she found a good vantage point and stopped to watch. King Aldrid’s horse snorted, jerked its head, and danced a few feet to the side. Grassina held her breath as her father shifted his weight in the saddle and leaned forward. Then, moving as if they were one, horse and rider thundered across the hoof-chewed dirt, sending clods flying and stirring up enough dust to create a cloud behind them. The king’s lance slammed into the quintain, spinning it as he galloped past while avoiding the flying weight attached to the other side. Bouncing on her toes, Grassina clapped until the palms of her hands stung, although her father was too far away to hear her over the thud of his horse’s hooves and the shouted congratulations of his knights.

  While the knights debated who would go next, Grassina slipped past the quintain, heading for her tree house. In a copse of trees out of sight of the practice field, it had been her favorite place to play when she was young. Her mother had made it for her to share with Chartreuse, and it was special in ways only an accomplished witch could manage. Although the miniature cottage was nestled in the branches of an oak well above the ground, it was roomier inside than its outside dimensions suggested and had a working fireplace that kept the cottage warm and cozy. Made with magic, the tree house still looked as new as the day it had been built with its sharply pitched roof and arched windows.

  Even before Grassina set foot on the ladder, she could smell the wildflower and honey scent that always lingered around the tree house. Her copper finches began to chirp as she started up the rungs, growing louder as she climbed and bursting into song when she reached the platform. Grassina had purchased the birds on a trip to the magic marketplace with her mother. She had wanted to keep them in her chamber, but they had kept her awake the first night with their chattering. The next morning she had moved them to the tree house.

  “Good morning, pretty ones,” she said. When the birds chirped back, she copied their song, smiling when they fluttered their wings and chirped louder. Because part of her mother’s magic ensured that nothing could enter or leave the tree house without the girls letting it, the birds were uncaged and allowed to fly free.

  There were other birds in the room as well. Shortly after Grassina had purchased her two copper birds, Chartreuse had insisted on going to the marketplace. Visiting a different vendor, she’d bought a dozen birds of pale blue glass. She’d also bought a glass branch that she set on the tree-house floor, providing a perch for her precious birds. That had been years ago, and now only five birds remained intact, the rest broken when they flew into the walls or each other.

  While the birds fluttered above her, Grassina knelt beside the wooden chest at the foot of one of the tree house’s two benches. “You may come out,” she said, lifting the lid, “but only for a few minutes. I won’t be staying long today.”r />
  A small wooden horse whinnied and tossed its head when Grassina reached for it. A rag doll yawned and sat up, wiping its black-dot eyes. Both toys had come from the magic marketplace, gifts from her mother years before. There had also been a tiny chicken made of straw, but it had gotten too close to the fireplace one winter’s day and burned itself to ashes. Since that day Grassina had kept the toys shut in the chest when she wasn’t there, hoping to keep them out of trouble.

  When Grassina had set both toys on the floor, the doll struggled to climb up her leg while the horse trotted around the room, cantering when it reached the long, open space between the two benches, slowing to a walk as it rounded the leg of the table. It was trotting again when its hoof became wedged between two of the floorboards. The horse grew frantic when it stumbled and couldn’t get loose. Thrashing and screaming, it might have damaged itself if Grassina hadn’t intervened. At first the horse was too frightened for her to touch it, but she calmed it with her voice and gentle hands until it stood still, trembling, and she could pull the hoof free.

  “Poor Hector,” said the doll, running to throw her arms around the horse’s neck. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “He’s fine, Marniekins,” said Grassina. “Just a little chipped paint.”

  Hector whuffled his lips, then left to investigate the floor under the bench. Grassina was watching him when she heard someone on the ladder. The copper finches twittered as a head appeared over the top rung. It was Chartreuse, visiting the tree house for the first time in years.

  “Princess Chartreuse, is that really you?” squeaked Marniekins. The little doll ran to the princess as fast as her wobbly cloth legs could carry her, falling in a heap when they bent the wrong way. Hector nickered hello and galloped to where Chartreuse stood by the door. On her feet again, Marniekins clambered across the floor to grab hold of the edge of Chartreuse’s gown. “Pick me up!” said the doll.