Painted Roses

Rooms of Dust

Even though her main purpose was to find The Frog, Rosalia always did enjoy looking around the castle. It was so beautiful and dramatic. Roses wound their way up pillars and across ceilings, vines coiling along the floor, following little steams that trailed in and out of rooms, never hindering a step and yet always there.

She ended up in on of the corridors in the back of the castle, on the forth floor where she didn't usually go, in the West Wing. The rooms of this floor looked out over the beautiful rose gardens. Frankly she hadn't expected to find any sign of The Frog on that floor, since it wasn't an area in common use, so it was to her surprise when she noticed a partially open door at the other end of the hall.

Pushing it open, the door led into a set of apartments. To her right, she could see past partly drawn curtains into a bedroom, bathroom and dressing rooms beyond. She was in the main room. Huge windows stood opposite her, empty bookshelves between them, desk and chair before them. In one corner was a fireplace, surrounded by chairs. To the left were the open doors to a balcony.

This was not a used room.

She knew this because everything was covered with dustsheets. But, while other rooms in the palace were covered with dustsheets that had recently been put in place after the rooms last use, this room hadn't been used in a very long time.

There was dust and cobwebs everywhere. It was horrible. It reminded her of when they had first arrived at the cottage all those years ago – how Beldon had got it worthy of living in within a few short days, she would never know but this room could certainly do with that kind of magic touch.

Hiking up her skirts, she picked her away across the room and out onto the balcony.

The Frog sat out there, looking through the stone railings towards the forests beyond.

"There are far cleaner places to enjoy a view of the forests," she said, straightening her skirts out as The Frog looked up at her.

"Good morning, Miss Rosalia," he said and Rosalia laughed.

"My dear Frog, it's already passed midday. Have you been here all this time?"

"Is it really? How time flies," The Frog said, surprised.

"What could have possibly enticed you to spend the morning in this room?" she asked, looking back into the room.

"I was looking around the castle and happened to see this room was open. I suppose I just got lost in my thoughts and missed the morning."

"And what thoughts interested you to such a degree?" Rosalia asked, leaning down and holding out a hand. The Frog hopped onto her palm and she lifted him onto the balcony, setting him down and folding her arms on the stone, looking out towards the forests ahead and the gardens below.

The Frog was quiet for a while, also looking ahead. "You say you know a thing or two about curses?" he asked.

Rosalia settled her cheek in her palm and looked at him. "Knowing is a strong word," she replied, "I know two people who suffered curses, I know very little about them myself." She smiled slightly. "So does that explain you and that voice of yours?"

The Frog nodded. "Yes, I suppose it does."

"And which way round would it be? A frog given a human voice or a human given a frog's body?"

"... A human given a frog's body," The Frog said, his voice quiet, looking away.

Rosalia slowly raised an eyebrow, then, to give him the privacy he clearly desired, she returned her gaze to the forest. "And how long have you been a frog?"