“She doesn't have a problem with speaking,” Beatrice reminded him as she picked up Rose and began to cuddle the kitten in her arms. “What harm can it do to try it?”
“It might taste gross,” he said.
“It probably will,” Guinevere admitted. “I haven’t learned how to make them taste good in addition to doing what they need to do.”
“Of course I get the apprentice,” Alexander muttered. Beatrice shot him a glare, and he took a deep breath. “Fine, I will try it,” he said. “Just don't let it kill me.”
He took the potion and didn't dare to take a breath before pouring the contents down his throat. The first breath he inhaled after swallowing tasted as if he had just eaten the contents of a frog's stomach.
“What was in that?” he croaked. Guinevere began to list several herbs and other ingredients. He wasn't paying attention. He hadn't really wanted to know, and now his stomach was beginning to gurgle.
“Just wondering,” he asked, “what happens if it comes back up? Will it still work?”
“I don’t know,” Guinevere admitted.
Alexander clutched at his stomach as the potion began to bubble inside him.
“Is it supposed to feel like I'm boiling a pot of water in my stomach?” he asked, grimacing.
He tried to stand, but Guinevere appeared and pushed down on his shoulders.
“I wouldn't stand yet,” she said. “Just let it do its job.”
As Alexander grew lightheaded, he glared at the maid. “This is the last time I'm ever taking a potion,” he muttered before slumping over on his desk.
When his eyes opened again, everything was hazy. How long had he been out? He sat up, glaring at Beatrice and Guinevere. His wife was making her way around his desk with fear on her face, so he probably hadn’t been out long.
When he sat up, she let out a sigh of relief, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
“Are you well?” she asked quietly, almost as if she was afraid to say anything. Rose jumped from her arm to sit on his desk in front of him, licking her front paw as if to say she wasn’t at all concerned for him.
He opened his mouth to ask what they had done to him, but no words would come out. It was as if he had been completely silenced by the potion, not merely sentenced to not speak of his curse.
“What happened?” he roared, though no sound came out of his mouth. The girls stared at each other.
“It may have been too little,” Guinevere said with embarrassment. “I shall have to make another potion, my lord, to bring your voice back.”
Alexander glared, and Beatrice let out a giggle. He turned to glare at her.
“I'm sorry, Alexander,” she said, still giggling. “But you must admit, it is a little funny.”
He shook his head and pointed at Guinevere, then pointed at the door.
“Right away, my lord,” she said, bowing her head before scurrying out of the room. Beatrice continued to laugh at him as she attempted to talk to him about what she had found in the library that morning. Apparently, there had been a book on potions, which is where Guinevere had found the recipe for the particularly nasty concoction she'd forced down his throat.
“I need something else to eat,” he wrote, showing the paper to Beatrice. “So I can get the taste of frog out of my mouth.”
Beatrice grinned and rang the bell for Jenkins. She asked for tea and sandwiches to be brought, then returned to his side.
“What are you working on?” she asked, leaning over to look at the paper spread in front of him. She grimaced as she realized it was his will.
“You mustn't give up hope,” she said.
Alexander shook his head. He wasn't going to try to explain it to her. Beatrice would have to hope enough for both of them.
“Well, I won't give up hope,” Beatrice said, as if reading his thoughts. “Because we’re not going to let this defeat us. I plan on growing old with you here, and you'd better not let anything get in the way of that, especially not your own doubt.”
Alexander shook his head again. He wasn't letting his doubt win. He was simply being realistic. If he hadn't been able to figure out what to do by now, how were they going to manage it?
