Page 18 of Yellow Belly

Henry was expressionless. “Yes?”

“This isn’t so bad, is it? A frog by day and man at night? We can find a place to live… in the forest somewhere. By the water. No kings or princes or princesses. We’d still have one another, and at night we could⁠—”

“Where would we get money? You might be able to catch flies to fill your belly, but I can’t. I don’t know how to hunt or garden.”

Disappointed, Stefano frowned. “You could learn. I know it sounds more ideal for me than for you, but⁠—”

“Look at yourself.”

The sharp order briefly confused Stefano. When he parsed the meaning and glanced down, he saw that although he was in the shape of a man, the skin on his belly was the color of lemon peel and the rest of his skin was grass-green and covered in small bumps.

“I’m not…. It’s only a dream,” he said with more than a hint of desperation. “Maybe if we wait a little longer I’ll return to normal.”

In a gesture that Stefano didn’t understand, Henry cupped one hand over the left side of his own chest. “But I won’t.”

Stefano glanced over one shoulder, where the water called to him almost as strongly as Henry’s body did. “Did Louis say that the curse would become permanent eventually?”

“He didn’t specify.”

He wouldn’t, the bastard. Among his many faults was his unwillingness to give straight answers about anything. Philip was by far the nastier of the two, but at least there was never any question what he was thinking.

“So we might not have much time,” said Stefano.

Henry, downcast, simply shrugged.

Chapter Nine

Each day, the journey grew more miserable. The roads grew poorer and the traveling companions more tedious. The accommodations were smaller, dirtier, and more spare; the food blander. Henry grew tired of his own company, while Stefano wasn’t much company at all. He’d stopped speaking in his frog form—Henry was unsure whether this was because he couldn’t, or wouldn’t—and when released from his cage at night, he huddled silently in his damp silk. Although they dreamed together each night, it took longer and longer for Stefano to emerge from the pond and turn into his true self—and even then, he retained increasingly more frog qualities.

On their last night before crossing the border, dream-Stefano crawled reluctantly out of a pond that was now more like a sea. He sat there on the bank for a long time, unblinking. Twice he shot out his tongue to capture and eat a fly.

“You won’t change?” Henry would have been devastated if it weren’t for the iron bands. Even with them, his throat felt tight and his eyes burned.

After a long pause, Stefano shimmered, expanded, and skewed, until he was again a two-legged man. His skin was green, however, his head bald, and he had long webbed fingers and toes. His lipless mouth was far too wide, his eyes too big and bulging. It was unnerving to look at this monster who was also the man Henry loved.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked, then winced at the stupidity of his question. “I mean, are you in pain? Is there anything you need?”

Stefano opened and closed his mouth. “Losing… myself….” His words were hoarse and hard to understand.

Henry did the only thing he could and folded him into an embrace, as if his arms alone could keep Stefano safe. “I love you, Stef. Remember that. Let my love anchor you.”

Then Henry woke up and it was morning. Gray light crawled in through the single curtainless window, and because the opening was unglazed, it let in the reek of cow shit and onions. Stefano had perched on the windowsill, facing out, the only source of bright color in the room. Henry froze, positive that Stefano was about to leap off the ledge.

“Stef,” he whispered. “Stefano, please don’t go.”

Stefano shifted around and stared solemnly at him. He gave a single croak that sounded almost like a human child’s cry. Then he jumped toward the bed, landing on Henry’s chest. He weighed almost nothing.

“We’ll be there soon,” Henry assured him. “We’ll get everything straightened out.” He wasn’t at all sure that he was being honest, but sometimes a lie is required.

Few people traveled this route, so the coach line ended here. Henry didn’t know how to ride a horse, and if there were any farmers or merchants with carts heading in the same direction, Henry hadn’t been able to find them in the little village. So he did what he had to: he purchased and packed up some food and then attached Stefano’s cage to the top of his bag. After slinging the bag onto his back, he ventured along a dusty roadway into the woods.

A couple of miles outside the village, he encountered a small building next to the road. It was empty of everything except a few pieces of broken furniture. This must have been the border with Innisbar, before Cyrus had annexed the region. A few bored royal guards must have been posted here prior to the annexation, monitoring everyone entering Thanytsia—and, no doubt, soliciting bribes before letting travelers in.

Walking deeper into the forest, Henry wondered where those guards had been reassigned, and whether they were grateful for it. Maybe they’d preferred the peace and quiet here. It was pretty too, with a dense tree canopy overhead and some colorful flowers near the ground. Birds and insects flew about like court acrobats, and the air smelled fresh and a bit fragrant.

Maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad. If Henry could summon the slightest idea of how to support them. If Stefano could remain fully human. If the king never bothered to scour the countryside in search of his youngest son. If Henry didn’t have those damned bands around his heart.

Over the next few hours, he passed a few tiny villages, each hardly more than a scattering of houses with lush vegetable gardens in front and chickens pecking everywhere. The residents stared at him silently, not exactly hostile but certainly not welcoming. Most likely they recognized him as Thanytsian and were less than pleased to have quite suddenly been made Thanytsian as well. Maybe they suspected that their new king intended to destroy their homeland.