I glance at the photo. It’s a guy about my age, handsome with bright red hair and some kind of big mole over his right eye. He wears a military uniform, and he’s smiling.
“Zat is Philippe, before ze spell.” Victoriana points to the mole. “Zis is ze famous Alorian birthmark. It is shared by many great kings.”
She hands me the photo, revealing the second, a frog with a red strip on its head. Like the prince, it has a large spot above its eye.
“Zis is him now,” she says, and I see the tears, glittering on her eyelashes.
It does look a lot like the prince would look, if he was a frog. I gaze into Victoriana’s moist eyes and abandon the ideas that she’s playing a joke on me. Someone’s playing with her is what’s happening. “Someone probably kidnapped the prince and has him captive somewhere. They must have painted the frog.”
“Zat is what we zought may be. So we consulted an Alorian witch, a powerful sorceress who has a magical earpiece. She can communicate with animals—at least, animals who were once human. I talk wiz my bruzzer.”
“You talked to a frog?”
“Oui. I ask him questions, questions only Philippe would know, about ze secrets we had as children. It is no doubt to me zis frog is him. And look at his eyes.”
I glance back at the photo. His eyes are, indeed, the same ocean color as Victoriana’s.
Stop! Of course the frog isn’t her brother. Her brother is dead, and she’s crazy with grief. Poor girl. Just shows even rich people have problems.
“It was Philippe himself who told me ze sad facts of zis spell,” Victoriana says. “She turned him into a frog, and he may only break ze spell by ze kiss of one wiz love in her heart.”
“Love?” It seems weird, if the spell was placed by an enemy, that the cure would be love. But then, what about this isn’t totally weird? Clearly, these people are taking advantage of Victoriana’s innocence or maybe—let’s face it—stupidity.
The princess shrugs. “All ze spells say zat, I suppose. We—my parents and I—zought ze problem would be solved easily. My bruzzer is handsome, heir to ze throne, and a playboy. Every girl loves him and would be happy to kiss him, even as a frog.”
“So why not do that?” That would have shown it was a joke and ended it.
She sighs. “Before we could, he disappeared, like I tell you. Poof!” She waves her hands. “My fazzer hunted down ze one who cast ze spell, Sieglinde. She told him my bruzzer was in ze hold of a cargo ship, bound for Miami. We would never find him, and he would never be king. But ze witch promised to reverse ze spell on one condition.”
She stares at her shoes.
“What condition?”
“Zat I would agree to marry ze heir of ze Zalkenbourgian throne.” From between the photographs, she removes a newspaper clipping. The article is in French, but there’s a picture of a blond man, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile, holding what looks like a bayonet over a cowering boy. “Prince Wolfgang is evil to ze core. He visited when I was a small girl, pulling fezzers from my canary and sticking pins in my cat. It is zeir aim for us to marry so zat our countries may unite under Zalkenbourgian rule, but zat is only if I am ze heir. Sieglinde said zey would return Philippe if I agree to marry Wolfgang and Philippe will give up ze throne forever.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it so hard it hurts. “You must find Philippe!”
I listen to the waves make their way to the shore, over and over. The seagulls have stopped crying, maybe chased away by beachgoers. Let me get this straight: There’s a frog loose somewhere in Miami, and I’m supposed to find it. A beautiful woman wants to pull me into her overflowing bowl of crazy. How do I get out of it? Forget the shoes. I just don’t want her to complain to Farnesworth about me.
“Um, you sure you want me? Me?”
“Oui.” She shows me another photograph, this time of a cargo ship. “Philippe was in zis ship, which arrived at ze port last week. Chevalier, my hound, found his scent in ze hold. My guards questioned ze crew. At first, zey had no memory of a frog. But when my guards pressed furzer, zey remembered zere had been one on a container bound for what you call ze Keys.”
I bet. They got scared of those behemoth guards and said whatever they wanted to get rid of them. The Florida Keys are a string of small islands south—far south—of the mainland, connected by the Overseas Highway. But since I wouldn’t be visiting them anytime soon, I played along. “Why not just let your guards look for him in the Keys then?”
Victoriana rises from her seat. I rise too, but she pushes past me and creeps into the hotel room. She opens the door a crack, checking for intruders. Satisfied, she closes it. Then, she returns to the balcony, shutting the French door behind her. She leans in toward me, whispering, “Ze guards, we believe zere is a spy among zem. We need to find someone no one will suspect is helping us, someone ordinary.”
“That’s where I come in.”
“Oui. If you agree, I will tell ze guards zat we have been engaged in a flirtation, a . . . making out. Zey will believe me for zey believe me to be—’ow you say—loose. My father will tell zem we have given up our search for Philippe. I will cry. Ze subjects, zey believe zat Philippe is on a top-secret military mission. And you . . .”
“You want me to look for a frog.”
“A frog prince.”
A thought hits me. Even if there’s no prince, hanging out in the Keys sounds a lot more exciting than repairing shoes all summer. But I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I have to work. My family needs the money. I can’t just leave.”
The princess laughs. “Oh, if zat is ze only trouble, it is solve. I will pay you—all your expenses and enough money to hire a replacement. And also . . .” She hesitates.
“Yes.” I can’t do this. I can’t. But I want to know what “also” is.
“If you find my bruzzer and bring him back to me, zere will be a reward.”
“Reward?” Money. Money to pay bills. Money for college. “What reward?”
The princess fixes me with a long stare from her ocean eyes. One eyelash is still tipped with a tiny tear, but on Victoriana, it looks more like a diamond.
“If you find Philippe and return him to me, I will marry you.”
Chapter 8
“Marry me? I’m only seventeen.”
Still, she’s beautiful, beautiful and—more important—rich. Marrying her would solve a lot of problems, even if she is nuts.
Victoriana makes a little shooing gesture with her hand, as if my objection is of no importance. “I am a princess. Aloria is a paradise which makes zis place look like ze garbage dump. My husband would never have to worry about ordinary man’s troubles. He would know pleasures zat most men only dream of.” She reaches into her dress, and I think she’s going to show me some of the “pleasures” she’s talking about. But, instead, she pulls out a large wad of bills. Hundreds. “For the quest. You can have more if you need.”
“I couldn’t . . .” I stare at the money, then look at her. The money. Her. I could. “Why would you want to marry me?”
“You seem nice. Besides, I maybe should marry someone. If I am married, Prince Wolfgang will leave me alone.”