Sequel to The Frog King and also set in the same world as Ashes, Dust, and Skin. This is also a sequel to Skin, and it's going to wrap a few fairytales together. As always, there are going to be lesbian themes, so remember the whole deal with the leaving of the tea.
The black dog shimmered along the ground, loping this way and that, sniffing at some stray rock occasionally as dogs are wont to do, but then it would lift its head and stare at Beau with eyes that had the barest hint of a purple star inside, and Beau would be reminded that it was no ordinary dog. It wasn't tall like the hounds she was used to, but meatier; black muscle over bone. It was a true black dog, often associated with a hell-god or two, but this one at least had nothing to do with them; only the darkness.
The galleytrot sniffed the air again, and then it was off like an arrow from a longbow, pelting down the trail as though a rabbit were running ahead of it. Before Beau's eyes, the trail under the trees where the dog was running seemed to stretch away, then rush at them, distorting her gaze almost painfully. The galleytrot rushed back towards her, tearing past the wagon only to stop a few feet behind it. Well-trained as they were, the horses didn't bolt, only turned their heads curiously as the dog raced past. Beau turned too, only to find the dog sitting patiently beside a plain wooden sign that marked a path, neither of which had been there a moment ago when they'd rode past the first time.
Slowly, Beau backed the carriage up, careful not to jar it too terribly. The cargo she carried was precious, and needed to be carefully watched after.
And then the sign became readable, as through a mist.
Eldrytch.
The characters on the sign looped and whirled around each other in an almost fey manner, and Beau decided that it must be magic. It looked fairly safe, and it was high off the ground. Surely the shimmer of the letters couldn't be mold. From the height of the ancient carriage, Beau reached out, and with one finger traced the single silver line that twisted itself into eight different letters. It hummed under her fingertip, and she could just barely feel, in the deepest crevices of the letters, something moving, like she was reaching into a hole to touch a snake.
Faded grey on aged wood, and though the sign was plain enough to be entirely insignificant and certainly not indicative that a powerful sorceress lived there, the dog (probably) wasn't leading them awry.
Beau smiled. Next to her, propped up on a mound of stolen pillows, sat her dearest friend and traveling-companion, Lissar. Beau leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her friend's brow. "Breathe easy," she whispered, and spurred the horses forward.
Not more than a few hours later the forest road opened up on a huge meadow lit by bright sunshine, and at the center of it stood a large, fortified manor-house.
In the distance, Beau thought she could see large white birds in the air above the house. This must be the place, she thought. Spurred by hope, she directed the horses onward and followed the galleytrot onto the wide expanse of the meadow, heading for the house.
Thick pieces of red oak made up the overlarge front door. Oak and iron. The iron banded, bound, and protected it using runes which Beau could clearly see had been magicked into the age-dark metal during the forging process. The striations in the giant slabs of wood seemed to twist before her eyes, curving and shaping the forms of fierce animals that moved within the oak. Overall it was rather imposing, but Beau knew she couldn't let it turn her away. She hopped down from the carriage, landing lightly on the loose dirt, and strode up to the door.
Beau didn't think her fist would make any noise when it knocked on the door, but even through the wood she heard the echoes of her pounding, and beyond that, the faint noise of feet.
The door opened noiselessly, and though it was on a clear level with the floor, it barely shushed over it, leaving the flagstones unscored.
And in front of Beau stood a woman. She dressed in the jeweled shades of an emerald, and Beau could practically taste the out-of-sync aura that was her energy. It was uncomfortably similar to what she'd been able to sense when she'd been a frog; that the energy and sense of self was never quite comfortable in her skin. But what else could this woman be, if she was now human? An intensely beautiful human.
Still, Beau decided. The woman's manners left much to be desired. She regarded Beau with the respect of a human for a bug, and Beau couldn't help but wonder what had died on the woman's face, since her nose was wrinkled like she was smelling something awful. She reached up to touch her blond, full hair and seemed to decide something. "May I help you?" the woman asked.
"Ye-e-e-s," Beau answered, drawing out the word. How could she ask for help from this ice queen? Surely this couldn't be the person who she was going to beg to help Lissar.
"Well?" The woman asked.
"M-my name is Princess Isabeau d'Chevalles," Beau said, regaining her composure. Calling on her title and kingdom might help with this woman, snotty as she was.
It didn't.
"Princess of Chevalles? The capital of the kingdom of Trantalis?" she demanded.
"Yes," Beau said. While she wasn't about to mention that she really had no connection left with her former country, the woman's reaction made her rethink that decision.
Beau was then faced with a rapidly approaching, angry woman whose name she didn't even know. "Trantalis is my country!" The situation rapidly devolved into a nonsensical assault when the woman backhanded Beau across the face.
Before Beau could say 'Tippingee,' the crazy woman was being pinned to the floor by the galleytrot, which had two massive paws on the woman's shoulders. She was screaming, but the galleytrot was doing nothing more than growling and using its (admittedly massive) weight to hold her down.
And then there was a loud crash, and two harried-looking people were standing at the top of a set of stone stairs that Beau was sure hadn't been there before.
One was clearly a woman, and the other, taller one was rather androgynous, though Beau was sure she'd caught the shape of breasts pressing through the shirt.
"What," said the woman, "do you want?"
"Succor," Beau said immediately. Please, please, please help us.
"You are perfectly healthy," said the androgynous woman.
"Not for me," said Beau. "My friend."
"Not the dog?" said the androgynous woman, coming down the stairs. The galleytrot immediately retreated from the screaming woman, going over to sniff the woman's hand. "I've never seen its like."
"No," Beau said impatiently. "Not the dog." She walked back outside, hoping that the woman would follow her.
She did. Lissar was still asleep in the carriage, though she'd fallen on her side without Beau there to support her. A swan was gently pulling at her brown hair, bright eyes too empathic for a regular swan. Beau decided not to shove it away, instead making a gentle shooing motion with her hand. She shook Lissar gently, and the other woman woke up slowly.
The woman behind her was busy petting the dog, but when Lissar opened her eyes, Beau heard a soft 'Oh.'
Lissar's normally brown eyes were red-rimmed, and the whites of her eyes were blood-red from broken capillaries.
Beau helped Lissar down from the carriage, and the woman immediately stepped forward to help as Lissar stumbled. Together they helped Lissar into the manor, and while now the other woman was examining the galleytrot, the crazy woman was nowhere to be seen. The androgynous woman directed them to a room with a comfortable-looking settee and a few wingback chairs. Lissar was deposited on the couch, where she immediately fell asleep again, and Beau and the woman sat near the large fireplace, where the other woman joined them, accompanied by the black dog.
"Now," said the androgynous woman. "My name is Jeanette. Tell me everything."