Twenty-Three

 

From his perch atop a camel's back, safely wedged into the neck of a water bag, Philemon watched the three of them set up camp, like he had every night since he'd joined their small caravan. Haidar refilled their water supply and Asad built a fire and began to cook. Anahita sent her bird off hunting while she pitched the tent and carried their bedrolls into it, so that they might sleep comfortably. If they hadn't stopped at an oasis, Haidar would help her with the tent.

Anahita's eyes often followed the falcon's flight, while she wore a wistful expression, as if she wished she could fly with the diabolical bird.

For the first time, he wondered what her story was. He wished he'd spent less time talking and taken the time to ask her about herself. He knew she was an experienced desert traveller, and the way she and her brothers divided up the tasks in camp so easily, she must travel with them often. She might not know it, but she was freer than any desert woman he'd ever met – including those who lived in Tasnim, for the women of his city had mostly stayed within the underground city. For all their freedom, Tasnim citizens did not spend much time staring at the sky, or even standing beneath it.

Every morning she lifted him from his bucket and into the water bag, never once flinching at his slimy skin. It wasn't that she didn't notice, either – her brothers had made comments on how they would not carry frogs as she did. She'd smiled, shrugged, and thrown a teasing comment right back at the brother in question, but she hadn't let him go.

He'd found himself racking his brain to tell her tales he hadn't shared yet – half-remembered events from his childhood, or tales of the history of Tasnim, which she'd never heard. He'd even found himself telling her about his journey through the dark to the oasis, and discovering he'd been turned into a frog. So what if he'd made it sound like a glorious adventure, instead of the nightmarish reality? Her eyes had still grown wide before she'd laughed in all the right places.

More than anything, he wanted to take her home to Tasnim, and show her all the wonders his words simply couldn't describe.

But first he would have to find a way to break the curse, and return the waters to his city. Otherwise there would be nothing but empty caverns to show her, before her bird tried to eat him again.

If only her brothers had brought her sooner, and tried to trade her for Tasnim's hospitality. Then he might have persuaded her to become one of his concubines...

Though he suspected she would refuse the honour. If her brothers had been willing to part with her, which seemed equally unlikely.

It was a foolish thought, he told himself. Better to focus on breaking this curse, and claiming his princess bride from the Sultan. Whatever beauty the Sultan bestowed on him would surely be enough to turn his thoughts away from a barbarian girl, chance met in the desert. A girl as unattainable as the rising moon.

"Will you join us for dinner, Philemon?"

Philemon roused himself from his gloomy thoughts to find Anahita standing before him, her cupped hands ready to carry him.

He could not smell the stew already steaming over the fire behind her, but he didn't need to smell it to know it would taste far better than any meal he'd eaten since that enchantress pushed him down the well. But the fire had probably drawn an inordinate number of bugs by its light, and Anahita wished him to take care of them.

"I'm not sure you'll like that," he said, stepping into her hands. "Watching a frog crunch through a bug while it's still alive is enough to put the strongest man off his food."

"I guess my stomach is stronger than that of most men. But then, I've watched my birds rip their prey apart for as long as I can remember."

Philemon shuddered. "Where is the creature?"

"Merlin is hunting. She says there are a large number of fat frogs in this oasis, and she intends to catch them all." Anahita ducked her head. "I thought you might prefer to stay with us, where she does not mistake you for food."

Ah, so she didn't want her dinner interrupted by having to rescue him from the bird again. If Philemon could but carry a blade at his hip, he would soon see the bird off, but neither Anahita or her brothers had a knife small enough to serve him as a sword.

"You are fortunate that I am a prince and not truly a frog, or I would take offence at the bird's slaughter of my family," Philemon said. "For honour's sake, I would be forced to kill the bird, and all who harbour it."

Anahita shook her head. "And that's why I know you're not truly a frog. Animals do not say such things, or care about honour. I still imagine it would be distressing to see the slaughter of your fellow creatures, especially with your human sensibilities."

She set him on a rug beside the fire. He had barely a moment to notice that it was the rug she usually draped atop her bedroll before his body seemed to sneeze again.

"He's too skinny to be a prince. Pampered princes are plumper than that," a male voice said.

It took Philemon a moment to collect his scattered wits before he realised the man meant to insult him. He leaped to his feet. "Plump or skinny, a prince defends his honour. Give me a blade and I will make you regret every word."

Someone threw a bundle of cloth at him. "Put some clothes on, so you don't put Ana off her dinner."

Philemon caught it, and he was stunned to find his own hands holding the bundle, instead of his four-fingered frog ones. "By what miracle..." he began.

"Ana's idea. Last time you turned into a man, it was in her bed. She figured it was worth a try. I bet it would work. Asad said it wouldn't. I'll share the wineskin I won off him with you if you can tell me why. Ana insists there's nothing magical about her bed, but she doesn't usually share it with animals."

Philemon shook his head. "I know not. I have never been cursed before. And if I can break this one...I hope never to be cursed again." Realisation dawned. "You can hear me. Understand me."

Haidar nodded. "Well enough to see Ana isn't telling tales about you being a man under some spell." He lowered his voice. "Put the robe on, and she'll come closer. Naked men frighten her."

Philemon's gaze followed Haidar's pointing finger to where Anahita stood, at the very edge of the firelight. The reflected flames glittered in her eyes and off her teeth as she bit her lip. Contrary to her brother's words, there was no fear in her expression.

She stalked forward, as graceful as any desert hunting cat. By the time she stepped between Philemon and the fire, he had eyes for nothing but her.

The firelight turned her thin tunic transparent, highlighting the curves it otherwise might have hidden. Beautiful. Like an angel come to earth. He wanted to say the words aloud, but his mouth was too dry for any sound to come out.

He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, but found them downcast. Not to the ground, but to his groin. Because a prince's cock refused to bow down to a beautiful woman. Instead, it rose to greet her. Ready.

For something her wary eyes said she would never agree to.

Philemon sighed and slipped the robe over his head, hiding his arousal as he tried to think of anything but the beautiful girl before him. Beautiful. Untouchable. Unless he was a frog, when she took him in her hands and...

"Will the spell object if I sit beside you? Or will you turn back into a frog?"

Philemon's eyes sprang open to find Anahita sinking to her knees before him. No, beside him on the bedroll, close enough to touch if he took his place beside her. A place she patted, a playful expression on her face.

"I rarely bite, Philemon. Except when it's my dinner." She accepted a bowl from Asad.

"Sit down, and hide that tent in your tunic," Asad muttered, shoving a second bowl at Philemon.

Philemon did as he was told, telling himself that if he'd had a sister as irresistible as Anahita, he would be just as protective.

But she sat close enough for him to feel the heat of her through his thin robe, while her brothers sat on the other side of the fire, their eyes fixed on Philemon. Torture. Temptation. Both terrible and yet...

"You should have left the stew to cook for longer. The meat is tougher than I like," Anahita said.

Asad shrugged. "Use your dagger to cut it into smaller pieces. Or don't eat it. It is all the same to me."

Anahita's arm bumped his side. "What do you think, Philemon? Do you agree that Asad did not cook the lamb enough?"

Philemon turned his attention to his food. He spooned up some of the stew and brought it to his lips. The sauce was well spiced and salted, but so was the meat. Spiced lamb as good as anything he'd tasted in Tasnim. He owned it was a little chewy, but no more so than any slice of roast lamb he'd eaten in the past. Right now, it might as well have been manna from heaven, it tasted so good. Before he'd realised it, he'd finished the bowl. "Is there more?" he asked.

Too late did he realise that Anahita and her brothers might not have enough food to satisfy him, especially after so long eating like a frog.

Asad scraped a spoon through the pot, eyeing Philemon across the fire. "Maybe," Asad said slowly. "What price would you pay me for it?"

Anahita hushed him. "Philemon is our guest. It breaks the laws of hospitality to expect a guest to pay for a meal we invited him to."

"To hear you tell it, he claims to be the Prince of Tasnim. Do you know how much it costs for the privilege of a bowl of lamb stew in Tasnim?" Asad asked.

A man who drove a hard bargain. Philemon could respect that. "I will trade one for the other. A meal at my table in Tasnim, for a meal here at yours." He glanced around. "A meal for all of you, with as much of my best wine as you wish."

Asad wiped his hands. "Take note, Ana. No man of Tasnim would pay such a price for a simple meal, let alone a prince. I don't know who your frog man is, but he is not who he claims to be. A meal in Tasnim costs a prince's ransom. If he'd tossed me a gold coin for stew that would cost him two coppers in the capital, I'd have believed him." He bowed mockingly in Philemon's direction. "Perhaps you will have more luck fooling the next caravan who offer to help you. I am going to go water the dunes, and I will be a while." He marched off into the darkness, muttering under his breath.

Haidar rose from his seat and peered into the pot. "There is plenty left, if you want it. No matter what he says, Asad is as hospitable as the rest of us. It's yours." He held out the spoon.

Philemon rose and stepped forward to accept it.

On his second step, the world constricted to crush him.