Calliode didn’t realize she was magic until it was too late. She wasn’t trying to do an enchantment, it just happened by accident.

Not every frog is a prince, and no toads are for certain, no matter what they tell you.
Toads don’t even require a kiss, just a scratch under the chin, and you’re saddled with a gnome. The gnome, who said his name Wobter, was a terrible conversationalist. He never listened, and gabled endlessly about pond ecology. Calliode didn’t find algae at all interesting, and wasn’t paying attention until she realized Wobter had been filling her pockets with small, perturbed amphibians while he . Afraid her fingers were full of spells, Calliode used her skirts as mittens and tipped the offended hostages back into the shallows of the pond, sternly telling Wobter that there were FAR too many gnomes in this forest already.

“Yebs, but obly for a fewb mobents…” Wobter replied as his eyes turned gold, and his skin grew grey and lumpy.
With a croak he slipped out of Calliode’s arms, leaving his gnome-skin behind, and disappeared into the dark water.
Calliode was relieved, but was now completely unsure if she was magic, or if toads were. There was only one way to find out…