Page 37 of The Frog Prince

Otto jerked back in shock. “H-how?”

Alwin nudged the spoon toward him across the table. “You have had much more practice with this.”

“You want me to feed you?” he asked, outraged.

Alwin nodded, relieved as it clouded the room, giving him something to hide behind.

“It is the most practical solution,” Alwin drawled.

“You can take the bowl and drink it!” Otto sputtered.

“That would be uncouth.”

“And living in moss-covered ruins in the middle of a swamp isn’t?”

The jabs were so precise Alwin had to wonder if Otto had been trained to deliver them so well.

“That is a need,” Alwin said. “This is a choice.”

“A fine distinction.”

“Indeed. Yet a distinction just the same.”

Otto set his jaw again, so beautifully stubborn, and Alwin was about to let him off the hook when he grasped the spoon and moved his chair closer.

Alwin had to fight not to widen his eyes and back up, caught completely off guard as Otto scooped up a spoonful of stew and held it up to Alwin’s wide mouth. He was refusing to look him in the eye, refusing to even acknowledge what he was about to do.

His hand was shaking wildly, spilling drops of broth everywhere.

Alwin reached up and wrapped his fingers around Otto’s wrist. Steady. Cool. Unnatural on warm human skin. The sticky pads clung with gentle suction, tugging with the slightest movement and making Alwin suppress a croak.

Otto’s eyes snapped up to his and his lips parted on a gasp. His hand froze in midair, firm in Alwin’s grasp.

Not breaking eye contact for a moment, Alwin leaned in and wrapped his lips around the spoon as best he could, using his grip on Otto’s wrist to pull it out clean of any food.

He turned his head fully to swallow, knowing how it looked, how disgusting it would seem. He released Otto’s wrist fromhis tingling grip, expecting him to spring away at the earliest opportunity.

He was surprised that Otto was still sitting there, eyes on his face and tiny pink marks on his exposed skin. Alwin fought back a croak.

“Why did you turn away?” Otto asked curiously.

“I have manners.”

Otto’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a lie.”

Alwin leaned in and felt Otto’s gasp on his face. “You would know.”

Otto’s curiosity was immediately replaced with a scowl, and Alwin cursed himself as Otto pulled away. He cleaned up, pouring what was left of their meal back into the pot so it didn’t go to waste.

Alwin watched his back with mournful eyes.

“I’m tired. I am heading to bed,” Otto said after the fire was banked.

“Very well,” Alwin murmured, exhausted by the exchange. “If you would be so kind as to show me where I will be sleeping?”

Otto met his eyes again, pausing again like there was something he wanted to say before dismissing it and leading him down a small hallway and up a creaky set of stairs. He pointed to the first bedroom.

“I’ll sleep in my sister’s room. You can take mine. I’ll just change the sheets…”