“But the frog said the lake would change me,” said the princess.

“There are worse things that can happen,” said Flegmire. “Not changing isn’t so good, either.”

“But how will it change me?”

“What do I look like?” asked Flegmire. “A prophet? You want to get rid of your smell, you go in the lake. How you come out, that’s no concern of mine.”

“Well, can you at least tell me how to get there?” asked Violet.

Flegmire smiled. “Sure,” she said. “That’s easy.”

That night—night and day being pretty much the same in Nilbog—Violet rose from her bed in the little stone cottage behind the palace grounds that the goblin king had given her to live in. She put on her riding clothes, then slipped out the door, intending to saddle up the frog and ride to Fire Lake. But she hadn’t gone more than ten paces from her door when Bindlepod stepped from behind an enormous mushroom and said, “Going somewhere, my darling?”

Violet jumped and gasped. “What are you doing here?” she cried. Then, spotting the frog, who was crouched on the far side of the mushroom, she hissed, “Blabbermouth!”

The frog merely shrugged.

“He does have his loyalties,” said Bindlepod. “As do I. If you are going to do this thing, then so am I.”

“You can’t!” cried the princess.

“Piffle,” said Bindlepod. “There’s no point in only one of us taking the risk. If we’re going to change, we might as well change together.”

And nothing the princess could say would dissuade him.

So together they rode to Fire Lake, a journey that took them ever deeper into the earth.

At the end of the second day, they crossed a field of bubbling hot springs, and the frog narrowly escaped scalding his rear quarters when a geyser erupted behind him. “You’re going to owe me a lot of june bugs when this is over,” he said bitterly.

At the end of the third day, the horizon began to glow. Nervously, they climbed to the top of a slippery hill. Ahead lay Fire Lake, its flaming waves lapping idly against its scorched shore.

Violet tightened her hand on Bindlepod’s arm. “I’m frightened,” she whispered.

“You should be,” croaked the frog, who was standing next to them.

“Whatever happens, we’re in this together,” said Bindlepod.

They started forward again.

In a few hours they were standing at the edge of Fire Lake. The blazing waves hissed and crackled as they rolled against the shore.

Bindlepod took Violet in his arms. He held her close, burying his nose in her neck.

“You know,” he murmured, “I like the way you smell.”

“And I like the way you smell,” she replied.

“Then what are you going to do this for?” cried the frog, who had been growing more alarmed as they approached the lake. “Are you out of your minds? What do you care what the others think? It’s none of their damn business! You love each other the way you are. Who are you going to change for?”